#Smaug writes

[thedragonsmaug]

Ok I’m writing this up here cause @nlghtw1ng said I should so without further ado:

Smaug’s Batlantern/Batfam Headcanons

(These are all for the happy, loving but still irrevocably fucked up Batfam that lives in my head)

- All the kids get Bruce silly ties for Father’s Day and he very seriously wears them to work at WE

- They get Hal silly socks and those are the only socks Hal will wear

- Hal learned that Bruce has only ever given people flowers and never received them so he makes it a personal mission to buy Bruce flowers whenever he can

- All the kids crawl in bed with Bruce and Hal when they have nightmares, regardless of how old they are or if they live in the manor

- Bruce sleeps with Hal’s pillow when he’s in space cause it smells like him

- Bruce made Hal’s engagement ring by hand

- They’re either so good at compartmentalizing their relationship on the battlefield it scares them both OR they are the absolute worst but really really good at faking it

- No one in the house uses the same toothpaste, they all are devoted to a single brand and/or flavor and will accept nothing else

- Jason and Hal pretend to hate each other but are secretly besties

- Alfred frequently finds Hal cleaning things and they are locked in a never-ending war over it

- Bruce is the messiest person ever in his private spaces. I’m talking papers, books, clothes, towels, pens, batarangs, etc thrown all over the floor if anyone will let him. Even with Hal and Alfred yelling at him there’s precarious piles of things everywhere (only he knows where everything is)

- Bruce and Jason sometimes quietly smoke cigarettes together but no one else knows and they have secret little spots they go to

- Tim is secretly really cuddly but will never ask for snuggles because he’s still struggling with learning that people love him and he’s not a burden

- Damian is shameless with his cuddles

- Whenever the whole family is in the manor (not that common now that everyone is growing up and moving out) they inevitably all end up in Bruce and Hal’s bed while Bruce reads to them. Everyone has a self-assigned spot and because this is sacred family time no one ever steals someone else’s spot (couch spots can and will be fought over)

[thedragonsmaug]

Ooh this looks fun!!

In no particular order my WIP doc titles are…

-When We Were Kids

-Truth or Dare

-Pirate Origins

-Live at 11

-Graves

-Never Grow Up

-Part Two

-Overstim

-“Oh Guy Gardner?”

-Torturing Clark

-A Treat

-Quite A Sight

-Intruder Alert

wip ask game!

Rules: In a new post - post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

I always find myself in a state of awe and dread when this game pops up lol, but it's also always very fun for me, so thank you, @elvain, @niennawept and @thebitchkingofangmar, @mirkwood for the tags! Yes, these are tags from months ago, but...I am doing it! I know I've talked about a lot of these already, so here's to hoping I can bring something new to the table about them.

Actively Writing/Editing...

As The Tide Turns

Bookbinder//Songwriter

Golden Hearts Bleed Faster

Kurdu 'abadaz

Led Only By The Stars

Where The Shadows Lie

With Good Intentions

Outlining/Planning Stage (for more variety!)

Heartstones

Twice In A Lifetime

FTH Bagginshield Fic

Unnamed Oz/Alice fic

Unnamed Burglar/Royal, Cinderella elements fic

The Silm Fic Idea

Sweeter Than Honey (title tbd)

Non-obligatory tags for @sunnyrosewritesstuff @conkers-thecosy @itsthemxze @its-atlass @chaoticangel666 and anyone else who wants to play!

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Smaug Headcanons (platonic)

Smaug would be extremely possessive of his darling and just as protective. They are the most valuable possession amongst his hoard after all, his most precious treasure. Their worth is more than all the gold and jewels in the world to him. So much so that he could never part with them. That’s why he insists, or rather demands you stay amongst his hoard, where he knows it’s safe. Besides, you’re surrounded by so many beautiful, shiney things and they’re all yours.

Of course you would be kept in the safety of his sanctum after he’s taken the Lonely Mountain for himself. Harbored amongst all the gold, gems and jewels you couldn’t possibly think of, right where Smaug wants you most. He couldn’t possibly fathom any harm coming to his precious one, not when you have him to protect you.

Smaug is extremely strict about allowing his precious one to go anywhere, even if it is to venture off to another part of his sanctum. He doesn’t like not having them within his sight. He hates the thought of them getting hurt or lost, but he especially despises the idea of them ever stepping foot outside his lair. If that were to ever happen his panic and anger couldn’t possibly be repressed.

If his darling were to stray too far or is gone just a little too long for his liking/comfort, Smaug will follow their scent and drag them back to where he feels most comfortable keeping having them. There are very few places he allows them to venture to and he knows them all by heart, being more than capable to go after them if need be and easily retrieve his darling, bringing them back to the only real space he’s comfortable with them staying kept in. It keeps them closest to him and he can keep his eye on them in every sense of the word, even when he’s sleeping he’ll know if they make even the slightest of changes in their usual movements. Smaug is very well aware of his environment and the space he’s resigned himself to, he’ll know if they take even just one step out of the perimeter he’s allowed them to move freely about.

As much as he spoils his darling, Smaug really only rewards good and obedient behavior. Anything less than or just blatant disobedience won’t be take lightly. Smaug demands respect, especially from his little darling. It’s because of him that you are safe and so well taken care of, the least you can do is show some gratitude and appreciation towards him.

As gruff and grumpy as Smaug can be there are times he can be quite playful with his little darling, especially if it’s what they want and they’ve been pretty well behaved. It didn’t take him long to realize that often then not when his darling would venture off and stray away from where he demanded they stay kept was to solely get him to chase after them in a playful game of tag or hide and seek. He can usually tell the difference in whether his darling is trying to make a run for it or is simply trying to get him to play with them. It’s the gigging that really gives it away.

Not only can Smaug be playful but he’s also an excellent storyteller. When he really wants some peace and quiet or to just get his darling to go to sleep in general, Smaug will use his tail to bring them close to him, curling it around them to keep them in place then he goes on telling them stories of his adventures. Sometimes when his darling is really restless he’ll ask them what story they want to hear but more times then not his stories usually involve him boasting and bragging about himself. He especially takes care to make it clear to his darling that he is in fact the biggest dragon to ever exist. Of course it’s a complete lie but his darling doesn’t know that, and even if they were to question him about it he wouldn’t let up. As far as Smaug’s concerned he is the biggest dragon around now.

As much as Smaug typically comes off as aloof or even flat out terrifying he does hold some genuine care for his darling, even if it is just a little. His obsession is primarily possessive with that possessiveness only becoming all the worse the more his obsession festers and grows. Eventually his darling will become something more than just an object for him to own, they’ll become a treasure he certainly doesn’t want anyone or anything else getting ahold of. And with that said he will do anything to keep them with him, and only with him. He will reign hellfire down on anyone or anything that dares to steal his darling treasure away from him.

[theelvenhaven]

Married to Thranduil

Flirting with you while intoxicated

A/N: Thank you @nerdysimpy for the Thranduil idea. Love those bestie privileges. It's my first Thranduil post and I am still getting a feel for his character so forgive me for not making this very long or if it's not wholly ic.

Warnings: NSFWish

****

❁ Thranduil has a really high tolerance for alcohol and rarely indulges himself beyond a glass or two of Dorwinion red.

❁ But there are times where has a bit too much to drink- whether that is in your shared chambers or at a festival.

❁ With the Dorwinion wine being so good and the talk that seems to keep going on and on it's no wonder one glass turns to two, three, four, five and more.

❁ When Thranduil flirts usually it is a bit sophisticated and formal even though you two are married, he likes to try to be poetic and above his station even to his spouse.

❁ He never fails though to make you blush in his complex flirty compliments about how you're his starlight, and how beautiful you are in several different poetic ways.

❁ But when Thranduil has filled his cups and has had a little too much to drink, he becomes a little more blunt and a little less poetic.

❁ At first they still will be suave and a little more on the chaste side of things;

❁ "My starlight, you look ever so ravishing tonight, you're glowing brighter than even the candle light."

❁ "That outfit suits you well, and shows you off perfectly, starlight. Your taste is impeccable."

❁ He will chastely, but no less seductively, offer little touches here or there.

❁ Like brushing your hair out of your face, tracing your jaw as he does so, holding your hand, a hand coming to rest on your knee chastely.

❁ But as he gets more intoxicated the touches become a little more intense and less chaste.

❁ The notes of seduction are definitely known as his hand wanders up higher on your leg, his face flushing a light pink and his lips twitching into a smirk as he eyes you.

❁ Though he is intoxicated, and would want the whole world to know you are his, he doesn't want anyone to overhear any of the flirting he does with you.

❁ So while he holds your thigh, with his thumb gently drawing circles, he leans over to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

❁ Whispering to you all the things he wants to do to you, even if you are in public.

❁ "My starlight it would be positively divine to ravish you right here, I'm aching to feel you."

❁ "You look divine in your outfit, but by Iluvatar I know you look better out of it and laying on our bed bare for me to see."

❁ He'll spend his time teasing you physically, his hidden hand brushing against your most private places but never fully touching you.

❁ Thranduil likes to watch you squirm and see the different expressions, the sounds of your shaky breaths knowing it's all him having that affect on you.

❁ He is also stealing kisses to your lips, not afraid of who it is that might see his loving display of affection for you, emboldened to let propriety fall to the way side.

❁ Nor is he afraid to be steeling kisses on your neck as he brushes your hair away, or nipping at your ear when he leans in close to whisper into it.

❁ Now when the tipsy flirting starts it is a perfect to give into his whims and steal him away for the evening and back to your bed chamber to make love all night long.

❁ But if you continue to let him drink, Thranduil is mostly all bark with no bite as he gets too woozy to be able to do any of lascivious things he's been whispering to you.

❁ On those walks back to your chambers with his arm around your shoulder, holding him up as you two walk back to your bed chambers.

❁ Thranduil will need to be laid down, and e won't bother to undress for the evening but he will coax you into laying down with him at the very least.

❁ He will press soft but sloppy kisses to your face, and pull you in close with him, snuggling close to you.

❁ He loves and adores you and feels so safe and comfortable with you before finally the alcohol wins out and brings him to fall asleep with you tangled in his hold.

****

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

[dreamofbecoming]

i’m thinking about that one post that talks about how the ring doesn’t make the wearer invisible, but actually enhances whatever the wearer’s natural strengths already are- it multiplied sauron’s powers of control and raw destruction, hobbits are naturally sneaky, etc. basically how the reason the story tells us it’s an invisibility ring is because bilbo is the one telling the story, and he just assumed his experience was universal. isildur didn’t go into the river invisible and uninjured, only to get shot when the ring abandoned him and he became a target again, he already had multiple arrows in him when he went into the water, but only succumbed to his injuries when the ring stopped magnifying his numenorean longevity and damage resistance.

so i’m thinking about hobbits, right? like yeah, they’re small and quiet on their feet and invisibility totally tracks for them, but what if that’s not their most impressive skill set?

i’m thinking about how all five of the hobbits whose stories we hear in full traveled enormous distances on foot with minimal difficulty. they all managed extreme altitudes, rough terrain, heavy snowfall, almost lava???, swamps, trees, jagged rocks and gravel, and just about every other possible terrain, not to mention hundreds of miles, without seeming to flag heavily or (genuinely) complain overmuch. despite being used to at least seven meals a day, they were able to keep up their pace on minimal rations, on foot, without losing stamina until the very end, which arguably had more to do with the ring than the trip itself.

my point being that hobbits are almost unnaturally good at traveling massive distances on (bare!)foot, and what if the ring picked up on that instead?

what if instead of going invisible, bilbo could teleport?

[thedragonsmaug]

Thank you for the tag @lordoftherazzles !!!

My 3 were (in order):

1. Batten the Hatches (expected, makes sense)

2. The Call of The Sea (unexpected, sorta makes sense)

3. Drunken Priests and Palm Altars (unexpected, does not make sense)

No pressure tags:

@dzasta15 @frownyalfred @lord-angelfish and any others that would like to join!

Here's a fun game for you guys on AO3...google "your username ao3" with your actually username (if that wasn't clear) and write down your first 3 fics that pop up. It's not at all what you would expect!

For me it was:

I Didn't Know I Loved You

Living the Hobbit Way

Thoughts of You

Kickstarting this game with some no pressure tags! @lordoftherazzles @lucigoo @fantasyinallforms @conkers-thecosy @tickles-ivory

[thoroq]

Bilbo + Thorin and personal songs I listen to when I’m in the brain rot 😊

idea taken from @smolestboop

[amonrawya]

1st of October: Mountain / A' chiad latha dhen Dàmhair: A' bheinn

English Translation:

Since the day the dragon came, it seemed to Thorin he saw the mountain clearer with every step he took away from it, with each mile he and his family led the people of Erebor west, their backs to the mountain, its form in his mind grew firmer.

They toiled in strange lands, selling their skills like simple trades-folk instead of the masters they were. How low we are fallen, the young prince would seethe, still proud despite their loss.

Thorin's people had not been long in connecting Thror's hoard to the dragon's attack; the first to do so turned their backs on him, choosing to join their kin in the Iron Hills than suffer the Wilds under a leader they did not trust. Those who kept faith and remained, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Thorin vowed to protect.

Even before the disappearance of Thrain, a shift came in Durin's Folk. They began to seek guidance from their prince, following his lead and rallying behind the dream he described for them: a new home in the west, far from hardship and strife where they may rebuild all that was lost.

But always in his mind lay the same thought, the mountain, the mountain, the mountain. In his dreams he looked on it from afar. Watching. Waiting. He would bring his people home, redeem his family for their grandfather's sickness that brought them all to ruin.

The birth of his sister's sons came in a time of peace. The older they grew, an ever-increasing choir that sung with the drums from the deep followed him....the mountain, the mountain, the mountain, they cried.

Oh the lonely mountain...

Scottish Gaelic translation:

Bhon dearbh là a thàinig an nathair-sgiathach, chunnaic Thorin a’ bheinn nas soilleire le gach ceum a thog e air falbh, leis a h-uile mìle a stiùiridh e is a theaghlach an t-sluagh Erebor gu Iar, an dromannan ris a’ bheinn, dh’fhàs a cumadh cruaidh anns na inntinn.

Dh’obraich iad ann an dùthchannan neònaiche, a’ reic na sgilean aca mar gun robhar luchd-malairt farasta seach na maighstirean a bhathar. Cho ìosal a tha sinn air tuiteam, smaoinich am prionnsa òg le fuath geur, fhathast moiteil a dh’aindeoin an calltachd.

Cha tug e fada gus an cur an t-sluaigh a h-uile rud ri chèile: sabaid an nathair-sgiathach agus tasgaidh Thror. Tionndaidh na ciad feadhainn an aghaidh an Rìgh agus thagh iad a bhith a’ dol gu na luchd-dàimh aca anns na Cnuic Iarainn, an àite a bhith a’ fulang san dùthaich fhiadhaich fo cheannard nach robh earb annta ann. Ghealladh Thòrin gun dìon e na feadhainn nach deach, a bha a dh’fhantainn agus a chumail creideas leotha.

Eadhon ron thuras Thràin nach tàinig e air ais bho fhathast, thàinig atharrachadh air na muinntir Durin. Thoiseach iad a’ sireadh stiùireadh bhon phrionnsa, a bhith ga leantainn agus a’ tighinn ri chèile air cùlaibh an aislinge a bha e ag iarraidh dhaibh: dachaigh ùr san Iar, fada air falbh bho dhorradas agus strì far am faodar a h-uile rud a bha air caill a thogail a-rithist.

Ach an-còmhnaidh anns na inntinn bha an aon smaoin, a’ bheinn, a’ bheinn, a’ bheinn. Anns na aislingean, choimhead e air fad às. A’ coimhead. A’ feitheamh. Thoireadh e an t-sluaigh aige dachaigh agus cuir ceart gach rud a rinn a sheanair a thoirt iad uile gu lom-sgrios.

Thàinig breith mhic a phiuthar ann an àm ciùin ach mar a dh’fhàs iad suas, dh’fhàs guth còisir anns na inntinn a bha a’ seinn leis na drumaichean às na h-uamhan. A’ bheinn, a’ bheinn, a’ bheinn, dh’èigh iad.

Ò a’ bheinn ònaranach...

Amon Rawya

(Tha mi fhathast ag ionnsachadh na Gàidhlig - bithibh snog XD)

[caedmonofwhitby]

“His rage passes description - the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted.”

- J R R Tolkien, The Hobbit

[itssloraine]

Well... what do you think?

I have thought it convenient to reveal this before the process of fanfiction illustrations in addition to animation because it's important to know your OC well when it comes to drawing and writing it.

They're just a few quick sketches, but you get an idea of what Anne's hairstyles are going to be like in this case. I think that being a Peredhil (daughter of an elf and a human), these hairstyles will suit her very well.

Furthermore, I have always defended that the type of hairstyle you choose for your OC is closely linked to their personality. And I think these seven hairstyles are very in line with her personality.

You already know the first one from my previous sketches, and the last one is her natural hair.

[thedragonsmaug]

I don’t even know what to say about this…

[thedragonsmaug]

Thank you for the tag @lordoftherazzles , these are so fun!!

I know what the rules say but I tend to write run on sentences and have a terrible memory so I’m tagging far less people than words in this sentence:

“The Smallville native strips himself of his own jeans and flannel shirt, hesitating next to the enormous bed until Bruce beckons him forward with a crooked finger.”

(May or may not be writing a Hal/Bruce/Clark fic)

No pressure tags

@dzasta15 @frownyalfred @lord-angelfish @fcthots and any other writer who sees this

WIP Tag Game

I've collected several tags for this one, so let's GO!!!! (Thank you so much @elvain @blueberryrock @fishing4stars @lucigoo - and if anyone else tagged me in this, and I missed it, I am so sorry!!)

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

This is from one of my many worked on chapters for my upcoming Bodyguard AU "Golden Hearts Bleed Faster" - COMING SOON!! I'm so excited!!!

It was his turn to want to be surrounded by nobody.

Non-obligatory tags for @myeaglesong @thedragonsmaug @njordr @ahufflepuffhobbit @i-did-not-mean-to @cilil @middleearthmama @lathalea @thatfancygirlinwhite @its-atlass @ovenstavern and anyone else who wants to play!! 💚

[myfanfictiongarden]

Spring and Autumn- The Hobbit movies

A.N. Having re-watched The Hobbit movies for the first time since they came out (it's been 10 years! I'm getting old), I was really struck by the relationship between Legolas and his father, and the deep wounds they both carry, as well as how Tauriel helps them both "heal" in a way

------------------------

Great are the trees that shield his eyes from the bright sun and the open skies. For centuries, no, ages they had time to grow, time to breath, time to build a realm like no other, fair and dark at the same time. Loved and feared. Eryn Galen, the Greenwood, was the name under which it was first known. Long had the Wood-elves, as well as some Wildmen, dwelled here, yet as a kingdom it only came to prosper once their distant kin, long ago forced to flee from Doriath, came to settle here in this green jewel. Different from his father, Legolas knows no other home.  Born at the turning point of the ages, he knows no war, knows no hunger, knows no exile. True, even his beloved home, protected as it is, is not without dangers, not free of fell creatures hiding in the dark, but fiery demons, valiant warriors or dark sorcerers are tales of times long gone. The Great Darkness is nothing but a story Elf-children might be told in the light of a warm blazing hearth.

It is true, truly great are the trees and the woods that shield this realm from conflict or danger, and yet at times Legolas finds them cold and empty. He had felt so since he was a little child, too small to even climb past one of the great roots of a mighty tree, but as no one but himself ever expressed any sentiment of similar sort, he soon decided that he was alone and wrong for feeling that way. After all, his father was Thranduil, son of Oropher of Doriath, king of the Wood Realm, who fought against the Enemy and faced fire-breathing worms. There is peace and prosperity in his Realm, so this must mean that things are exactly as they should be. 

During his early childhood he rarely sees his father, a nurse is at first the only substitute for a parent, later tutors take over. Friends he has few, but one very true. Her father was one of the patrol guards that are send out to protect the borders, he had spend many years in loyal service, before loosing one rainy night his life to the fight with a warg. Since they are children she knows she wants to follow her fathers footsteps and become a member of the guard. Tauriel is her name, and Legolas cannot imagine the forests without her presence. Her hair is auburn red like to most of her kin and mirrors the flame she has in her. A many mischief they got themselves in when still very young, the halls were filled with laughter in her presence, the days with sunlight. It is warmer then the cold in his fathers eyes.

He wants to make his father proud, earn his approval. Dutifully he studies his letters and verses, stars and lore, combat and archery. It takes years before he feel at least perceived, his presence acknowledged. And still, Legolas tells himself it has to be like this. How else could it be?

Often he finds his friend perched up on the last branch of the tallest trees, head peaking out between the fresh green or passing yellow. Even on cold winter days one could find her here.

“What do you seek to find up here, melon?” He asks once after taking place on a neighbouring branch, the fresh young leaves matching their guard uniforms.

“Seek? I do not know if I seek anything. And yet…” Tauriel says while her eyes wander over the crown of endless green, birds and moths dancing above their heads.

“Sometimes you seem like a bird, always reaching upwards to the skies. But there is nothing to find there. They are empty, except for some occasional cloud here and there.”

“Empty, you say? Be glad that the master of lore isn’t nearby, or he might tell you many a fair word! Why, right there you can see Arien doing her duty, and Tilion will follow in a few hours time. Who do you think lighted the stars, or who protects the very birds?” She laughs while stretching her head further up towards the warmth of the light.

“So you strive a place among the Great Powers.” He can’t help but say, his smile just as wide as hers.

“Don't be silly, of course not. But there is a whole world out there. Might it not be filled with great beauty?”

“Or with grave dangers. But fear not, I would never laugh at you, even though my sight might not always see what your eyes perceive.” He says, and they sit for a while in silence. Her look had become distant again, so he doesn’t push the conversation further.

Sometimes, he too wonders what might be out there, and yet there are enough tales and accounts to form a rather clear picture. Men and Skin-changers on the western and southern borders, Men and Dwarves on the eastern ones. Orcs and wargs. A sleeping dragon. In the north there is nothing. It was in the north that he lost his mother. Not a whisper, not a word is ever spoken of her, no token of her exists, and very soon not even memory may remain of her. At times only he thinks he might perceive her in his dreams, silver dress flying in the wind, bow and arrow in her hands, the golden sun upon her hair. Eyes fierce and warm. 

For many years his life seems sure, seems set. What use is it to ask questions to whom you know no answers will ever come? It is unwise to seek trouble or peril beyond the borders when so much foul things already try to enter from without. One is to protect what one knows. Yet the winds may ever change, and if we are not to break under them we must follow their guidance. A storm arrived, bringing an unexpected company. Clouds gathered, fire rained down from the heavens. His heart had been broken, but it had also been opened. The time had come to leave the shelter of dark trees, and find the sun once more.

-

Great are the trees that protect his eyes from the bright sun and the open skies. For centuries, yes, ages they had time to grow, time to breath, time to build a realm like no other, fair and dark at the same time. Loved and feared. Eryn Galen, the Greenwood, desolate and wild it had been before they arrived, and under their guidance prospered, building a home for themselves as well as for their distant kin that had long lived scattered in these parts. Yet, different from his son, Thranduil knows another home. Born with the coming of the sun, he knows darkness, knows war, knows hunger, knows exile. The lands of his childhood no longer exist, taken by fire and flame, buried under the seas. Homeless his people were for a long time. A proud peoples, wandering the wastes, hopping to find someplace that the Great Darkness hadn’t marred. Tales of horror and despair are all that was left of their previous lives.

It is true, young and green those woods seemed when first the Sindar set foot in them. A future full of promises. A future that yet again became marred by flame. A new enemy of old had awakened, and gathering all his foul servants, threatened their lives once more. His father had set out with a force great in might, ready to challenge the Enemy while great armies were closing in on him. A great host, of which only one third returned to the green home. Their king lost.

Thranduil is among the survivors, but greatly injured. A great worm of fire had send its foul breath of flame in his direction, burning the left side of his face, leaving destruction, leaving pain. And when he is carried home, to the place to heal all hurts, what awaits him there is a horror that makes even the glad victory and heavy loses pale in comparisment. Eliril had been taken, Eliril had been taken and lost. Eliril, a great huntress, had taken their little son and her maids for a ride in the forests while the battle was raging far away in the south. A group of Orcs ambushed them, of which she slew many with her arrows before finally being overpowered and taken hostage. The Lord of Angmar had demanded to learn the location of the hidden Woodland Realm, but she had not faltered and so paid for it with her life. The only thing that was ever returned of her was one of her arrows upon which hung a strung of her hair.

For nearly five full moons Thranduil stays in his chambers, admitting no one, seeing no one. A deep winter comes over the lands. After that he orders all of her things to be burned, not a scroll, not a hairpin nor tapestry she may have touched is to remain. Her day-room is emptied and turned into an open terrace, her harp broken, quill thrown into the mantelpiece. Any reminder of the wound is to disappear like the burns on his face, leaving an image untouched. And yet, one reminder was always there and hurt most to look upon. Their son, Legolas. In looks there was much of his father in him, and yet, even as a child, the temper of his mother came through, fierce, and strong, and unyielding. Thranduil hopes that time and distance will erase that too. Tutors and maids are tasked with the education and care for the young prince, not more then a bebe when the warmth had been lost. 

And time passes and Legolas grows, grows into a Elf of noble bearing, sharp mind, and loyal heart. But the temper remains, untameable, and soon the King realises the heart of his son is set on one from the guards. Of Silvan background is she, talented and loyal, a flame in her that demands caution. It would not be proper if she were bound to a prince. The world is best left to the order it has established, no thing to be tempered with uncalled for, no step made of the right road.

For many years the road seems sure, seems set. If one were to stray from the path, what good would it do? So much pain, so much loss await those who wander onward to the unknown. To keep and preserve what is left, that is the best coarse of action. What could the world beyond offer him anyway? But dark clouds begin to gather around Dol Guldur, around Erebor, around his own realm. There are those who are no longer willing to accept the boundaries set by him, and he is forced to follow on their path. It is all there again, the darkness, the flames, the blood spilled. But what cuts deepest are the words spoken by the one he looked down on, and of the son that stays true to her. And among the ruins of old, while snow and cold winds are raging, tears wash away the dark, wash away the wounds, until all that is left are scars. And among the ruins he speaks to the son he is proud has come to his own, and bestowing his blessings sends him away on the ever winding road. And among the ruins he bows to the warrior who lost all that was dear to her, and yet taught him to value what is most precious.

[teecupangel]

Desmond in middle earth? Idk, the idea just came to me, but like he is transported there and meets Bilbo (before the quest or after?)

For “Desmond getting booted to Middle Earth”, we have “Desmond takes his ancestors turned kids sightseeing and eavesdrop on the Fellowship” idea and “Desmond becomes the mentor of the Shire Brotherhood” idea in the comments of this post.

Now, you specified Desmond getting booted to Middle Earth and meeting Bildo (before or after the quest), so in this setup, let’s say Desmond gets booted after activating the device and he has no idea where or when he was then he meets an actual wizard. Desmond starts with the whole ‘probably POE related’ then, after Gandalf shows him enough magic to make him go “oh shit, that’s real magic, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck”, he’d be sorta lost, unsure of what to do because he’s not just been transported into some other time, he’s been kicked out of his own world.

So he just tags along to wherever Gandalf goes, acts as his sorta errand boy. But mostly, Gandalf teaches him about the world he was in, never asking why he did not know about any of these or why he seemed to be alright with a stranger following him around.

So when Gandalf met Thorin and they agreed in taking Smaug down, Desmond pretty much joined them in ‘inviting’ Bilbo.

Unorganized Notes:

Desmond would definitely feel a kindred spirit in Bilbo’s desire to not be part of any adventure and, while the world he was in had a lot of magical (weird) stuff, Desmond did feel that this was sorta more like a retirement for him. No Assassins or Templars to think about. No Isus to think about.

Bilbo is actually the reason why Desmond joined them on their journey. “Someone has to look for the little guy.”

He does get along with everyone and he understands their reason for wanting to kill Smaug. He does worry about Thorin though, especially when Desmond sees how Thorin tends to forgo reason and go with his ‘feelings’.

Desmond being there does mean Dori doesn’t have to carry Bilbo. Instead, Dori is in charge of keeping an eye on Desmond and Bilbo (to make sure they don’t wander or get into trouble). Balin still gets to be the cool old mentor to Bilbo and Desmond though (mostly Bilbo).

Desmond saw the shinies on Smaug’s pile and it took him all his willpower not to pocket something because, goddamn it, he wants some.

Desmond would probably be the one to notice something is wrong with the ring Bilbo got. It feels… wrong to him. Like it’s a POE but different. POEs to Desmond had never been malicious. If anything, they were always eager to be used by Desmond but the Ring… That specific Ring. It’s like it’s deliberately trying to keep Desmond away.

Desmond doesn’t necessarily know anything about Sauron as Gandalf only gave him a brief ‘background’ and he made it sound like Sauron is some kind of bad dude, not one of the most powerful Maiar still hellbent on conquering everything.

Desmond doesn’t know it but the reason why Gandalf is okay with all his strangeness is because Desmond feels familiar to Gandalf. Not the exact same feeling but close enough that Gandalf believes he is related to Varda.

Instead of Varda (associating Desmond with light and the stars), we can make Desmond feel similar to Mandos to associate him with his death back in his world and the fates that govern his entire life.

[tarnishedxknight]

{out of dalmasca} Completely random, but do you know what the absolute worst thing about writing novels/series in your own original fictional worlds is? Suddenly thinking about those worlds, stories, people, creatures, locations, etc. years later and missing them all so much and it's not like you can scream about them with friends because no one's read them, and it's not like you can Google them because there's nothing out there to find, so you're just left with this sudden rush of the mental equivalent of grabby hands and nothing... to grab.

Like at least if I miss something about FFXII I can go look it up or scream at friends about it, heh. I need that but for my own stuff, send help and chocolate.

[four-raccoons-in-a-trenchcoat]

trying to learn colour theory :] (SMAUG PLEASSEEEE WE NEED YOU TO HAVE MORE THAN JUST LOTR REFERENCES)