The Hufflepuff Bibliophile

I mean, imagine you're like, an office manager for a small firm. You're not getting a hell of a lot of respect and reward for your job, because nobody is in this system, and also because "the woman who answers the phone," is virtually invisible in this society. Your roommate firmly believes the kitchen sink is Dish Storage and yet also gets salty if you go ahead and stack her dirties in the dishwasher and clean them with your own, like make up your mind. You don't really have advancement prospects. You went and got a classics degree because people pumped you up all through your childhood with Follow Your Dreams, but what the fuck are you going to actually do with it? Museum? Archivist? Gonna need different degrees for that, and you've got student loan debt, and besides, you'd probably have to move to a higher cost of living area and try to make it on an entry level salary—do you really want to do that?

But there's fiction, and there's influencers (also fiction), and there's recipe bloggers, and there's almost a general miasma of reactionary sentiment that says: Opt Out.

Frankly, sounds lovely, you think. Opt Out How?

Well, all you need is to find a loving and powerful man. (This does not immediately trigger alarm bells, every Disney movie has told you that true love is The Solution, so it's got a certain resonance.) And then you split the work, you let him take care of the headache stuff (it's okay, he's into it) and you concentrate on Creating A Perfect Environment. Fuck dirty dish roommate anyway, this place will be Yours, and it can be Perfect, and beautiful, the pace of your life will change from frantic to leisurely, and you can spend the time to do the little artistic things that you've always wanted to try. I mean, all those influencers and recipe bloggers are somehow finding the time to shave fresh nutmeg onto their artisanal hot chocolate with a glowing smile, so doesn't it follow that you could take the time to actually look into textiles a bit? Maybe even, if you're lucky, get a loom? As it is, you've pretty much abandoned the idea of doing any serious fibercrafts as a hobby, but if you could opt out of work, you can do it, can't you? And I mean, yes, you'd end up having kids, but you were always open to kids someday, and the propaganda says that these kids would be well behaved and not sticky and grow up having fun with a big yard and a dog (and maybe you wanted a dog when you were little and dreamed of that sort of life for yourself, it sure would be lovely to give such an idyllic childhood to another human being). Doesn't it sound nice?

Of course the propaganda is built around several significant lies, starting with the idea that doing housework is somehow a less work-like sort of work than what you're doing now (but that's a lie you've pretty much grown up with, if housework was real work men would do it and people would get paid for it). Also the idea that your Good Man will always be good to you so long as you hold up your end of the relationship (but that's also a lie you've grown up with, True Love is always idealized and nobody talks about why marriages end—except by sometimes speculating that "she let herself go" and he cheated as a consequence of that failure).

In 2023 the US was 55'th in life expectancy (UN via wikipedia)

In 2025 The us is 57'th on the free press index (RSF.org via wikipedia)

There is no one scale or ranking for education quality worldwide, and various rankings are so different they are impossible to average out

In 2025 the us was 24th on the world happiness report (Oxford University, UN, via wikipedia)

In 2025, the us was shared 17th on the human freedom index by Fraser institute, but this is a us-based institute and in the "freedom in the world" index 2024, the us was 53rd with a 84/100 (freedomhouse)

In 2024, the us is #1 in military spending both in $ and in % of gdp (SIPRI via wikipedia)

In 2025, the US is #1 in number of billionaires, 11th per capita (Forbes, Hurun, via wikipedia)

In 2024, The us was #1 in number of incarcerated people, 5th if taken per 100,000 inhabitants (World Prison Brief via Wikipedia

The us had 517,308 bankruptcies in 2024, but i cannot find a comparison per country from a trustworthy source.

I haven't been able to find a comparison of medical debt per country, either nominal or per capita, but the us is #1 in the amount of bankruptcies caused by medical debt, with 66,5% of personal bankruptcies caused by medical debts.

In 2021, the us was 2nd globally in gun deaths (homicide, suicide, accidents combined), but first in suicides

"This is an LGBT safe space. Of COURSE I fully support individuals who identify as transgender and their right to self-determination! I just think that transitioning is a very serious choice and should be heavily regulated. And there could be a lot of harm in exposing cis children to such topics, so we should be really careful about when it is appropriate to mention trans issues or have too much trans visibility."

apparently he (who through my drunken memory I remember only as Earl) liked some woman, and she told him that he wasn't cultured enough and needed to attend his first drag show (she also flaked on him)

Now I'm reasonably androgynous and was wearing makeup, a short leather skirt, and black heeled boots, but still when this guy came up to me when I was standing off alone and asked "So. Do you come here often?" with a very earnest expression, I thought. Surely not. This guy doesn't think I'm a straight woman does he????

Anyway I start talking with this guy and he has no idea what the fuck is going on but he is just a very kind and earnest dude and asked a lot of questions (while asking if it was alright if he asked those questions). I track down my husband and friends and I'm like y'all. We need to make sure that Earl has a Good Fucking Time tonight.

Man was completely out of his depth. At one point they put on a puppy auction to raise money for Pride, that started with a 6 ft drag queen in all her glory leading a leather pup out on a leash to the tune of that damned RSPCA "in the arms of the angels" song

We look at Earl. Nervous. He squints, laughs, and then goes "I was wondering why people were dressed like that!" He turned to me and asked "So they're like dogs?" And I said yeah pretty much. And he just chuckled and went "Yeah I thought so with the tails! Never seen this before!"

When the first drag king came out, Earl looked at me wide eyed and went "There's a dude version too?!" And I said yeah they're called drag kings. And he said, low, "Drag kings."

During one of the queens performances, he frowned, shook his head and told me, "Your legs are better than hers." in a tone that implied he thought there was some travesty taking place and I should also be getting paid

When he found out I was there with my husband (and that I am not a woman) he profusely apologized and said "I'm so sorry, it's dark in here and I thought you were a hot chick! I wouldn't have said nothing if I knew you had a husband, I'm so sorry about that."

When beemovie invited me to the dance floor with him later and I still had a drink in my hand, Earl said "Oh don't worry about that I can hold your drink, you get on out there and shake your ass with your husband!" Then before we left, Earl bought me drinks for "Putting up with me all night and answering everything. Y'all helped me have a great time tonight."

like. You gotta recognize there's going to people who have never had interacted outside of their of their own community. This includes you. And just because your community is familiar with all the right vocabulary and how to correctly say something, it doesn't mean they're actually going to support you. If someone like Earl shows up, confused and out of their depth but kind and curious and earnest, you gotta have patience and truck through the small things, so when he goes back to his friends and his coworkers and they snicker asking how the drag show was, he can genuinely talk about how included we tried to make him feel and that he had a great time

After a time in the Undying Lands, Bilbo dies peacefully and finds himself in Yavannah' green fields with every other hobbit that has ever lived. His parents, family, friends, everyone. It's beautiful and plentiful and happy.. and it's also full of hobbits wanting to make social calls.

Anyway, one day, while tending to his garden that always makes perfect tomatoes (how boring!), he thinks how nice it would be if his afterlife and the dwarven afterlife were connected.

And dwarves love to live underground. So...

He digs.

And digs. And digs more.

Since time, hunger and exhaustion are not a thing anymore, there's nothing that keeps him going back up, so he digs until he hits rocks, and then he gets a pick axe and keeps digging.

Until one day, he hits through nothing. He find himself in the ceiling of a huge cavern, cut into stone in very dwarven architecture.

Thousands of dwarves raise their eyes, completely stunned.

'Huh, hello? Are these the halls of Mahal? I'm looking for dwarves. Thirteen of them-- not anyone, thirteen very specific dwarves.'

The Hobbit and the Beast A story about the greedy king under the mountain who one day refused hospitality to a traveling wizard and was transformed into a beast for punishment. All the citizens under the mountain were transformed into precious jewels, since the king valued his treasure more than people. Only twelve of them could come alive once a day, for an hour, to take care of their lonely king.

Until one day, a traveling hobbit, seeking adventure, entered the mountain to escape from a storm…

10K, slow burn, bilbo baggins/thorin oakenshield, no one is dead, depression

First, my theory that Dwarves fall in love in heroic exploits and competence, and Hobbits fall in love in domesticity. So, at the end of the book, Thorin is 90% in love with Bilbo and Bilbo is mostly in admiration/adoration/friendship with Thorin, so he leaves for the Shire anyway.

Thorin rules and rebuilds Erebor, but he has bad PTSD from the dragon and mostly all his life. While he was surviving, his mind could compartmentalise, but now it’s calmer, he has time to think and overthink. And his broken heart - from seeing Bilbo leave- is the one thing that tips him over the edge.

He gets worse over a year or two. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t eat, and depression sets in. At one point Fili has to take over because Thorin gets sick and stops caring about things. He can’t get up from bed. Everyone worries. You don’t have antidepressants in middle-earth.

And Thorin starts to feel trapped in the mountain, like he feels trapped in his obligations, and slowly he just can’t stand being inside anymore. All he sees is the nightmare of the gold, the ghosts of his loved ones, and all corridors remind him of the dragon. 

It comes to a head during a night where he just needs to LEAVE. He gets to the treasury and leaves through the secret door, so no one can see him, and he starts walking. Further and further away from the mountain. He doesn’t realise it’s raining and icy cold. 

He reaches Dale, where he is halted by guards, who recognise him, and escort him to Bard’s halls. Bard understands the look in Thorin’s eyes (Bard dreams of the dragon fire too often not to) and gives him a room. Thorin stays and sleep. And sleep. 

When he wakes, his closest friends are there, but he doesn’t care. He sleeps more. Weeks pass, where he doesn’t find the strength to return to the mountain. He doesn’t find the strength to get up. At some point, Balin sits next to him and tells him about a possibility. He could travel West, go to the Shire, rest for as long as he needed. They would care for the mountain. Bilbo had written, he was, of course, worried and would do anything to help.

Thorin didn’t feel much, lately. But he would like to be further from the mountain. And closer to Bilbo. 

They prepare the trip, and load Thorin into a cart, where he can sleep on a pile of sheep skin. He’s too tired to feel humiliated. He stares at the sky for hours, sleeps the rest. They cross Middle-Earth and don’t stop until they reach a green round door. 

Bilbo sees Thorin, his skeletal frame and empty eyes, and almost breaks down in tears. But this is something he can do. He prepared a room, the cosiest, and his pantry is bursting with delicious homemade food.

And this is how you slowly cure depression. With good food, and time, and sunshine. Thorin spends days laying on the soft grass, staring at the sky. He eats. He sleeps. He slowly gets better. He helps around the house. He goes to the market. He reads. 

But a year passes and still, he has nightmares. But not about the dragon, or the gold. About the throne.

‘I will tell you one thing, Thorin Oakenshield’, whispers Bilbo one night, holding his hand after a tiring bout of night terrors. ‘I need you to know this one, simple, thing: You don’t have to go back. You can stay here forever, and I will be delighted to have you.’

And finally, something in Thorin’s soul can rest. The simple possibility of not having to go back to Erebor is enough to help him sleep. After that, his recovery is smoother. 

Of course, it takes time. And Thorin fights with himself for months, and years, for wanting to be selfish and just needing a calm life. But Fili is a good King, Balin and Kili excellent advisors, Erebor thrives. And Thorin wakes up, one day, and realises he can breathe again.

So he gets up, and helps with breakfast, and with the garden, and at some point, he sings under his breath.

(Bilbo cries.)

So go the slow days, with good food, and good company, where a Dwarven King can put his weary head to rest and finally, finally, breathe.

Bilbo stays in Erebor, and eventually learns Khuzdul, even though it's not allowed because he's not a dwarf.

It's Bifur's fault. If you want to blame someone. But not really his fault.

Bifur can't speak common because he has an axe in the head. But he speaks Khuzdul and, more importantly, Iglishmek, which is the dwarven sign language.

Now, in my fanfic logic, Iglishmek is NOT a sacred language given by Mahal to his children that must be spoken only between dwarves. In fact, it would be discriminatory against deaf and hard of hearing dwarves to stop them from communicating with other people.

So Bilbo stays in Erebor, as second advisor to the king, does a lot of paperwork and dealings with elves, and learns Iglishmek to talk with his friend Bifur.

Except there are two problems with this.

One, Bifur speaks the words aloud in Khuzdul when he signs.

Two, Bilbo Baggins is a little bitch who does whatever he likes and what he likes is learning foreign languages for fun, Mister I taught myself Sindarin. Nerd.

So Bilbo learns a word, and two, and three. He learns expressions of pain, of battle, swearing and insults. He figures out sentence structure, words with the same roots, pronouns, verb tenses.

And then he starts reading small things, like the name of that tavern, a signature at the end of a contract, a small text under a statue. And he figures out the alphabet, the sounds, the punctuation.

And when they ask him for help in the library ("With the texts in common!" says Ori in self-defense), it's already too late. Fuck, he found an illustrated dictionary for children, he's unstoppable.

At some point, they find him in the company common room, lying on a two-person couch, deep in a book about the life of Durin.

"Bilbo, please stop reading Khuzdul," sighs Thorin.

"Hush, I'm at the good part."

Balin is dying of stress. Yes, Thorin, he's a Dwarf-Friend, but that still doesn't make him a dwarf!

...But there are legal loopholes. If he's taken into a dwarven family, he gets the status, and with that, he can legally learn Khuzdul.

There's adoption?

"No," says Bilbo without raising his eyes from the book when Dori raises his hand to volunteer.

Then what? Marriage??

They look at Bilbo. There's a small pile of books next to the couch, all about secret and sacred dwarven history.

Nothing short of marrying him to the king would help.

_______________

(about the Hobbit)

okok. So the Shire is really repressed regarding gay stuff. It's not even shamed, it's... nonexistent. As in people hide it, or leave, or ignore it all their lives.

In Bilbo's case, he never heard about something like this being possible, and after a life of subconscious repression, he convinces himself he's just an eternal bachelor.

Until 13, hairy, burly, manly dwarves invade his home and kinda abduct him.

It takes three days for the first mention of anything queer in conversation- and Bilbo just stares, not understanding. After two or three times they ask wtf his problem is. And he's like : "Wait. This is a thing that exists?"

huh, yeah? say the dwarves.

"Haha, must be a dwarf thing, it doesn't happen to hobbits, haha". And then Bilbo can't sleep for three days.

Anyway long story short it takes him the whole adventure to come to terms that maybe he wouldn't mind try a bit of dwarven culture.

So Erebor gets rebuilt, Bilbo stays at least for the winter, and gets many propositions. The first one he accepts is from a tipsy Bofur, who nods so fast his hat falls off.

The first time is weird, and fun, and perfect in a way that Bilbo never suspected sex could be.

Nori made his pass at breakfast the next morning. And Bilbo was like, yeah, ok.

And Bilbo Baggins catches back on several decades of gay repression by sowing his wild oates with any handsome dwarf who winks his way.

Thorin tries. Very hard. To be a supportive friend.

At some point Balin needs to intervene. "Bilbo, please stop sleeping with half the mountain. The King is having a mental breakdown."

Bilbo blinks. Oh, so it's like that.

He barges in Thorin's study, furious. That stupid dwarf looked exhausted.

'Thorin Oakenshield! Why didn't you tell me you also wanted a piece of this? I would have put your name at the top of the list!'

'Well, master burglar, I'd rather be the last of the list.'

A silence.

'What-'

'If you ever find what you're looking for, and are done looking... please come see me.'

Bilbo was not aware that this was also a thing a hobbit could want. But he wanted.

'I'm done running around. Apparently, what I was looking for literally came knocking at my door.'

The Brittish goverment was unwilling to do anything for two reasons. First was the laissez-faire capitalistic ideology, that put the rights of property owners to make profits above human lives. Rent freeze was unthinkable and they even were unwilling to do proper relief efforts as free food would lower the cost of food. The second reason was distain for the Irish, and the thought that they were “breeding too much” and the famine was a natural way to trim down the population, aka genocidal reasoning.

This is why it’s important to stress it was not a potato famine. The potato blinght was all over Europe but only in Ireland there was a famine. The reasons behind it had nothing to do with potatos and everything to do with the Brittish.

Apparently what made Choctaw want to offer relief to Irish was the news about the Doolough Tragedy. Hundreds of starving people were gathered for inspection to verify they were entitled to recieve relief. The officials would for *some reason* not do that and instead left to a hunting lodge 19 kilometers away to spend the night and said to the starvqing people they would have to walk there by morning to be inspected. The weather conditions were terrible and many of them died completely needlessly during the walk thoroung day and night.

This apparently reminded the Choctaw of their own very recent (and much more explicit and bigger scale) experiences of ethnic clensing, where they were forcibly relocated. It was basically a death march and thousands of Choctaw died from the terrible conditions also completely needlessly.

In 2015 a memorial named Kindred Spirits was installed in Southern Ireland to commemorate the Chactow donation.

Then in 2020:

In a hole in the ground, there lived a lonely hobbit. It all started when Bilbo grew tired of his empty kitchen.

He hadn’t been fond of eating alone since the dwarves destroyed his pantry, but he hadn’t after Frodo joined him in Bag End. He’d eaten with the elves in Rivendell, which had been full of lovely music and pleasant conversation, and then he’d eaten with the elves, Frodo, and Gandalf when they’d traveled to the Undying Lands.

Now he was here, in Yavanna’s Garden, living in what was basically Bag End. (the actual Bag End was right next door for his parents) He had his beautiful garden back, which only mattered really because he’d been brought back to his youthful self with working hands. The house was always clean (and he’d never really liked cleaning, so that didn’t matter much to him) so he had all the time in the world to work on his maps and his stories. He got the occasional social call from neighbors or family. He ate dinner with his parents on Thursdays and went over to their home on Sundays for family nights with many cousins and aunts and uncles, but he spent the rest of his time alone. He got the same whispers he had in the Shire, but he was satisfied with his cooking and working in the garden. Except… on the days there were no social calls, no family dinners, Bilbo Baggins sat in a very quiet house and talked to nothing.

“You know-” Bilbo said to no one in particular as he weeded a particularly stubborn patch of grass out from underneath his rose bush. There was a basket of tomatoes ready to be made into a sauce, or maybe used the fish tonight, but he’d seen the weeds and wanted to deal with it before it spread. “-I would have expected the garden to take care of itself when I died. Not to be doing the same tasks as before. But here we are, fighting with weeds, aren’t we Tho-” Bilbo stopped, shook his head, and pushed that thought aside. 

He made dinner for fourteen but only ate for one. The rest got put away for the multitudes of meals of the next day, but almost five years after he’d died he found himself looking at the empty table with a frown.

The next morning he perused his bookshelf until he found a collection of stories. From there, he found tales of the dwarves. He sat in his armchair until a collection of cousins knocked on the door and pulled him away, but he found what he was looking for when he was waiting for a peach pie to bake.

Dwarves belief that they return to the halls of Mahal upon their deaths. From there, they await the Final Battle. Upon the arrival of that day, they will be sent back to rebuild Arda, but until then the dwarves rest in their creator’s halls. 

Bilbo hemmed over that. He wandered down to where most of the Tooks lived, asking if they had any maps or had heard of the Halls before. It was a bit of a long shot, and he wasn’t surprised when they all said no. He returned to his smial and examined his garden. 

“Well-” he said to the same problematic patch of clover that refused to leave. “-I know that dwarves do like their underground tunnels and their mines. And if the Green Lady is married to the Smith, then it stands to reason that they might go underground nearby. I don’t think there’s any harm in looking, I’ll just get a bit dirty and ruin my garden, and I do that on the regular. Or I’ll fall into a great underground river and run back into Gollum.” Bilbo sighed, then went to see if he could borrow Hamfast’s good shovel.