#hobbits sleep in piles

[shurikthereject]

I've heard this headcannon once or twice saying that Hobbit's sleep in piles. So i had to interpret that but with Thorin, Bilbo and Frodo, in the end i had the fluffiest family feels doodle ever.

I think Frodo would definitely be a kicker when he sleeps. And when he's sleeping with Bilbo and Thorin and gets out of control with his kicking (Thorin being his main victim), he has to get carried back into his own bed.

Thorin would snore, especially when hes comfortable and is feeling safe. When he snores, he's probably also having the best sleep ever. Bilbo got used to dwarrow snoring while travelling with thirteen of them and Frodo's a heavy sleeper (he could sleep upside down if he wanted) so it never became a problem.

If you have more ideas you'd like to share feel free to comment! I truly appreciate it <333

[mad-jesters]

the hobbits going on a pile every time the fellowship has a break..... and aragorn, despite himself, longs to join the hobbit in their little piles because imagine little estel as a kid going on piles with arwen and his other siblings ........ and he loves piles. .......

[meteors-lotr]

Imagine the fellowship showing each other pictures and paintings of themselves as children

Everyone cooes over Gimli with the tiniest little beard and mini axe, the Hobbits all sleeping in a little pile of curls and tails, Aragorn in formal elven clothing but his hair is still as messy cause they couldn’t style it even if they tried, Boromir holding a baby Faramir cause he refused to part with him after he was born

And then Legolas shows the ugliest fucking thing any of them had ever seen, looking like a fleshy newborn bird with enormous eyes and ears, and he’s proudly boasting over how he’s seen as one of them most beautiful elven infants in millennium, and the rest of them are afraid to say anything because What The Fuck

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Another celebration ficlet. The ask for this one somehow got deleted from the inbox, but I know it was sent by @weirdandabsurd42 - hope you enjoy! 🥰

On being seen

Rated: T

Words: 990

Tags: Post-Vecna; Injury; Hospitals; Hair loss; Referenced parental death; Hurt/comfort; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart; Pre-Steddie

“Brought you these,” Dustin says, stacking some books on the bedside table. Eddie spots The Hobbit at the top of the pile. “They’re mine, but you can keep them until …” 

“Until what?” Eddie asks. His voice is a thin rasp, grating on shredded vocal cords. “Until they unearth my home from that interdimensional sinkhole? Fat fucking chance, huh?” 

Dustin swallows, hiding his face under his cap. Guilt churns in Eddie’s gut like acid. His left hand - the one that’s not hooked to the beeping machines - flies up to fiddle with his hair, only to come up blank. 

Oh, right. They cut it off during the surgery. It’s gone, just like half his face and jaw. 

“You should go,” he says. “s getting dark and your mom will want you home.” 

Dustin looks up, eyes bright. “But-” 

Eddie shakes his head as well as the bandages will let him. “C’mon, I need my beauty sleep. I promise I won’t go anywhere.” 

Dustin hesitates and Eddie’s afraid he’ll start to argue, or worse, plead. But then, the kid sighs, rising from his chair. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” 

Eddie raises his hand for a wave, pausing when he catches sight of his bare fingers. 

“Henderson?” 

Dustin turns in the door, face gaunt in the sterile light of the hospital corridor. 

“You haven't heard about…?” 

Eddie wiggles his hand. Dustin’s expression morphs into one of regret.

“Sorry,” he says. “I asked the nurses, but there were so many emergencies. Maybe they got thrown in the trash or something.” 

Eddie nods. Tries to tug at his hair again. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Dustin shuffles uncomfortably. “Listen, I could-” 

“I said it's okay, Henderson. Good night.” 

Dustin sighs. “Night, Eddie.” 

The beeping of the machines follows Eddie into his dreams, where it turns into the shrieks of the swarm.

*

When he startles awake, it's dark outside his window. 

There's a figure in the chair beside his bed, backlit by the heart monitor.

“Fuck, Henderson,” Eddie groans. “I told you to go home.” 

The figure jerks upright with a snort. 

“Shit,” it mumbles. “Sorry, ‘m awake.” 

It’s not Dustin.

Eddie freezes, terror sinking into his every limb like lead. The noise of the machines drowns under the roar of his own blood in his ears. 

“Hey,” says the figure, voice low and soothing, and he realizes a bit belatedly that he made a sound - a raw, terrified thing, like a trapped animal. “Hey, it’s okay. Eddie, it’s me. It’s Steve.” 

A hand reaches for his. It’s warm and strong and so much bigger than his own. He jerks away so violently he almost pulls the iv-cord from his arm. 

“No,” he rasps. “Don’t touch me. Get away from me.” 

Steve flinches, hand falling limply into his own lap. Eddie can’t see his expression in the dark. Doesn’t want to see. Doesn’t want Steve to see him, not like this. Hurt and bare and small with nothing left to hide behind.  

Neither of them speaks or moves for a while, the slowly calming heart monitor the only sound in the room. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says at length. “I just … I’ll go. Just wanted to give these back.” 

He rummages for something in his pocket, then holds out his open palm - carefully, like an offering. Eddie’s breath catches in his ruined throat. 

“Where’d you find these?” 

“Um,” Steve shuffles in his seat. “Saw them lying on the nurse’s desk the other day. Sorry I didn’t return them sooner, things have been sorta crazy out there.” 

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just snatches the rings. He attempts to slip them on, but he can’t use his right hand, and his fingers haven't stopped trembling since he first woke up. Nerve damage, the doctors said. He fumbles and drops the rings, but Steve is there to scoop them up before they can fall to the ground. 

“Here, let me.” 

Eddie watches, frozen in place, heart in his throat, as Steve slips the rings onto the fingers of his left hand. Cross on the index finger, boar in the middle, skull on his ring finger. His breath tickles the skin of Eddie’s wrist. 

“This one's special, right?” 

Eddie blinks out of his stupor. Steve has taken a hold of his right hand, infinitely careful to not disturb the needles and cords, and slipped the last ring back on. The delicate one with the dark, oval stone.

Eddie nods. His voice won't obey him, but this time, it has nothing to do with his injuries. 

“My mom's.” 

Steve hums in understanding, and Eddie knows he doesn’t need to say more. 

“Tell me about her?” 

Not a request. An offer. Eddie squints at Steve’s shadowy face as he settles back in his chair. 

“Why?” 

Steve shrugs. “You’re one of us. I’d like to know more about you.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he needs to laugh. It burns in his throat and sends tears to his eyes. He tries to tug a strand of hair in front of his face to hide them and grasps only at thin air. 

“Not sure what to tell you, big boy. Not a whole lot left of me, is there?” 

“You’re brave and kind and tough,” Steve says, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry. “You’re great with the kids, and an amazing musician, and you were willing to die for a town that hates your guts. I think that’s a whole lot. The outside stuff will come back.” 

Some of it already has, Eddie thinks, fingertips rubbing against the familiar shape of his rings. 

“Her name was Elizabeth,” he says. “She died when I was seven.” 

Steve listens for a long while, not interrupting once. He doesn’t switch on the light. He doesn’t need to, Eddie thinks. He feels more seen than he has in a long while, sitting here in the dark, allowing Steve to get to know him. 

Somehow, it isn’t as scary as he thought it would be.

More celebration ficlets

[mismaeve]

A Bond in Silence

↳ A Bond in Silence, Boromir x G!N Reader ↳ Requested by @wormsmith Word Count: 1.8k TW: slight angst, hurt/comfort, nothing too crazy A/N: My dear friend, thank you for your patience! I know it took a while but it's finally here! I am really hoping that you will enjoy it! As I hope that others will as well! 𓋼𓍊

The sight of him made your heart ache. Weariness appeared to have etched its lines into his face permanently, a furrowed brow now set in stone. The previously hopeful glimmer in his eyes had now turned almost crazed with desperation. You understood his burden only all too well, having lived through it yourself. In another life, in another place that no longer was called home.

Your eyes followed Boromir’s frantic pacing from where you sat perched upon a log next to the small campfire, the crackling flames warming your tired bones after a long day’s journey. The camp was veiled in heavy silence, the tragic passing of Gandalf still lingering in the hearts of the Fellowship, doubts of what would now become of their quest weighing heavily on their minds. Even the hobbits – ordinarily a chattering and merry gang – had become increasingly withdrawn as your journey progressed.

The Fellowship was quiet, barely a dozen words exchanged since you had made camp not too far from the riverbank. The trees provided you with enough cover, and the short distance to the river ensured a quick getaway should the need arise. By the company’s reckoning, you were safe for the night to come.

It was your turn to stand guard and keep a watchful eye for the enemy while the rest slept. You didn’t complain, your sleep had long turned restless and plagued with nightmares too dreadful to ever be spoken about out loud. Vivid dreams that showed a time long gone but never forgotten or forgiven, a family that no longer was among the living. A marble city, once splendid and vast, filled with finery and riches, songs and music – now brought down to a pile of rubble, forever silent where not even ghosts would care to dwell. Was that to be the fate of the White City of Gondor too?

Before your thoughts could drift any deeper into the black pit of heart-wrenching memories, the sound of quiet footsteps caught your trained ear, pulling you out from the horrors of the past and back to the bleakness of your present. You cursed yourself for your reckless behavior – allowing your mind to drift when it had to remain sharp and focused - and counted yourself lucky that the soft and measured steps belonged to your beloved and not an orc with far more questionable intentions.

An endearing smile, beckoned by the love you bore for him, blossomed onto your features as Boromir took a seat next to you, the log groaning and creaking softly in protest of the added weight of pure muscle and unwavering strength. You opened your rather large riding cloak – which happened to double as a sleeping blanket – in an unspoken invitation to share your warmth. Boromir shifted closer, snaking his arm around your waist as you draped your cloak around his broad shoulders before moving your legs to hang over his in an attempt of much desired closeness and belonging.

Huddled underneath your woolen cloak with your head resting comfortably against the crook of his neck, you hummed contentedly as you breathed him in – the familiar scent of Earth intertwined with leather and smoke filling your lungs and warming your heart.

“It’s a true pity indeed, this sense of serenity being nothing more than a false illusion,” Boromir murmured quietly, his velvety voice laced with the weight of his burdens. “I would rather see it for what it truly was – a quiet before a violent storm,” he breathed out.

“Do not despair for not all hope is lost,” you said softly.

“Is it not? My city cannot withstand the evil that would see it burn for much longer. Without aid, even the bravest and most valiant of men will falter and fall.”

You winced at the sound of his words, filled to the brim with his fear for his people, his undying loyalty to his duty as Captain of Gondor. Boromir’s sense of honor would also be his curse and undoing - you thought to yourself but dared not utter the words for you knew that they would fall on deaf ears. He would not hear it, not while unyielding fealty ran as thick as the blood in his veins.

You adjusted your position slightly so that you could face the man who carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Unbending and firm in the midst of a raging storm - steadfast and faithful he was - battling the doubt that threatened to take his heart and leave him hopeless and lost.

“Do not be quick to give up on them. Or yourself,” you whispered as your hand went to cup his face, the scruffy stubble prickling and tickling the softness of your palm. “You are strong, as is your city and your people. Do not settle for doubt when your own heart aches for faith.”

Boromir’s grey eyes softened at your words, the depth of his weariness dwindling while he regarded you in loving silence. A ghost of a smile formed on his lips before his own hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and allowing him to plant a tender kiss on your forehead. With closed eyes you hummed in satisfaction as his lips lingered there, seeking solace and companionship, an understanding soul that knew of his burden and offered to share a little bit of it. If only for a heartbeat and a shared breath.

You could hear the river running its course -unbothered and untouched by your cares and burdens- and the sound of crickets, forever the minstrels of the night. The two of you sat silently, sharing this rare moment of peace when you could close your eyes and listen to the world around you and feel content. How painfully few and rare such occasions were, and thus that much more precious beyond any measure.

“Tell me of your home,” Boromir’s voice stirred the pleasant silence between you. An innocent question, a sincere attempt at forming a deeper bond on his part, yet to your heart it was another wound ripped open and bleeding.

“There isn’t much to tell,” you breathed out whilst biting your lip in hesitation. The last thing you wanted for him was the bitter knowledge of faith sometimes not being enough.

“One thing, if it please you. The dawn is hours away yet and I would be glad to learn more about you while we stand guard.”

You sighed quietly in defeat.

“The tale of my home will hardly cheer you. On the contrary, it will only add to our grief. But if that is truly your wish, then I will tell you all of it,” you answered after a while.

Boromir listened as you spoke of the dark smoke and fire that had come to pillage your city. He sat quietly and patiently while you told him of the Mordor-orcs and the Easterlings, and the blind and raging hate they smeared the marble walls with, the reckless and needless death that was dealt that fateful day, when hope was long forgotten, and faith a distant memory of the past. You told him all of it, even as it broke your heart anew, and kindled your guilt and fed your everlasting shame - you told it all and true, to the last bloody and mangled body your eyes saw as you had fled from the doom that had descended upon your home and unleashed its wrath.

“All this time, you’ve carried your past in secret. Why?” Boromir asked once your shameful past had been revealed to him.

“I have been, and still am, ridden with guilt. Nothing I do will ever replace it or lessen it. It is a heavy burden to bear, but it is mine and thus I choose to carry it in silence,” you answered truthfully.

“You are wrong,” he countered at once. “This weight of guilt you carry is unfounded and false. You grieve the loss of your home, and in your grief, you’ve misplaced the blame.”

“Am I not at blame for abandoning my city in its hour of need? Am I not guilty of leaving the people – good and honorable people - to a fate worse than death?” you asked in bitter anger that had taken you without a warning. Anger born and bred by years of merciless resentment towards yourself.

“It would have been a folly to stay. To retreat was your only choice, you must understand that,” Boromir insisted fiercely. “What good would it have done to stay and be slain? There is no honor in death for honor dwells in the hearts of the living, willing to fight, knowing when to retreat and regroup and come down upon one’s enemies with a vengeance in retribution.”

Boromir’s palms went to clasp your face, his grey eyes burning with fierce certainty as he beheld your tearful eyes and quivering lips.

“You had to live that day. You were meant to escape. The dead can’t avenge themselves, but you now can,” his voice was thick with his conviction, his spoken words taking on a ring of prophecy. You could only whimper in response, overwhelmed by the unexpected weightlessness of your heart, no longer chained and smothered by your unjust penitence.

“Do not settle for doubt when your heart aches for faith,” Boromir spoke your own words of wisdom to you, earning him a choked hiccup in response as you felt your spirits slowly lifting through the silver curtain of your tears.

The Captain of Gondor took you in his arms and gently stroked your back while with each new tear that trickled down your cheek you unburdened yourself at last. Shedding years’ worth of anguish and self-loathing, you felt lighter with each loving stroke that dribbled down your back, slow and measured and offered in knowing compassion. A new bond – deeper and stronger – had formed between you, tying your hearts together as one for all the days to come. Long had you understood Boromir’s burden and shared its weight without him knowing or even suspecting. Now he knew and regarded you as a kindred soul, gifted – or plagued – by the same unwavering sense of duty as himself.

“Thank you,” you whispered gratefully and felt his hand pause on your back.

“For what?” Boromir asked in return.

You disentangled yourself from his arms and looked upon his face. His brow was furrowed, marks chiseled by his worries and fears creating a map of all that he had lived through. But there was kindness there too, and wisdom beyond his years shone bright in his eyes. An honorable man bearing an honest face which you had come to love so dearly.

“For giving me hope,” you smiled. For saving me, you thought to yourself. “For allowing me to forgive myself,” you added before leaning in and kissing him softly.

𓋼𓍊 Forever Tag → @heilith @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @kanafinwe-makalaure If anyone wishes to be either removed or added to my taglist, let me know ♡

Gif by → @boromirswife

↳ Requests ↳ Masterlist

[lunaroserites]

Christmas Morning

Paring: Established Bucky X Fem!Reader (Sugar)

Summery: Just a snippet Sugar and Bucky. Part of the Sugar AU. Christmas morning with Bucky and Sugar before they head off to celebrate with her family. (They're dragging Steve along)

Warnings: Christmas/Holiday time, implied smut, fluff, no use of Y/N, Not beta'd all mistakes are my own

Word Count: ~900

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Catch up with Bucky and Sugar: Read Too Sweet here and Does Heaven Even Know You’re Missing here

Part One of the Christmas Saga here

Tags: @hisredheadedgoddess28

Divider created by @tsunami-of-tears

(How Christmas Morning started btw)

One thing you’ve learned in the time you’ve been with Bucky, ex winter soldier, current avenger was how practical he was, it bordered minimalistic sometimes. He’s told you many times that you're the thing that adds colour and sweetness in his life. You brought your eclectic style and bright aesthetic  into his day to day life and he finds himself enjoying it more and more. 

One of the other things you learned after you fully moved in and brought all your things over to the apartment, was his love for fantasy and sci-fi, in any type of media, whether it be books, movies, or video games because you owned a lot of fantasy and sci-fi media. But his favourite of all time was The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. You’ve watched the movies dozens of times and he would lovingly tell you about the inaccuracies, the Hobbit getting more gripe than Lord of the Rings. 

So with that knowledge tucked away deep in your brain closet you had one goal this year for Christmas, finding a first edition of those series and giving them to Bucky. That is why you found yourself at an old antique shop in Manhattan while Bucky was being distracted by Steve and Sam. The owner was a sweet older British man that you found on Facebook. 

Walking inside to this little shop was like being transported back in time to the 1940’s, after Christmas you would have to Bucky here, there were so many things he would tell you about. “Well hello there,” the man behind the counter said, smiling at you. “You’re the girl from Facebook, looking for the Hobbit,” you nodded and his smile got brighter as he patted the stack of books next to him. You walked toward the counter and looked at the books, they were in immaculate condition, like they weren’t something just dumped off here by someone clearing out their grandparents home like you had made yourself believe. 

“They were mine,” the gentleman said to you, you looked at him and opened your mouth to protest. “I have no children, and I’m up in age, no one in my life will want these, you enjoy them,” he murmured. You closed your mouth and smiled sadly at the stack of books before nodding. He rang you up and you paid as he packed the book into a bag that would keep them safe. 

“Thank you sir, my boyfriend, he’s..” you stopped and couldn’t help but smile, “old at heart and loves these series,” you chuckled as you walked away and made your way back to yours and Bucky’s apartment. 

There were a few beautifully wrapped presents under the artificial tree you and Bucky decorated, and a very cute Alpine sleeping next to them. Bucky insisted you get him nothing, that you were all he needed and wanted. You waved him off when you had placed the gifts to him under the tree the night before, before he pulled you into his arms and dragged you to bed for your first of many Christmas gifts. 

You brought over a mug of black coffee to him and handed it to him, he laid it down on the floor next to the small pile of gifts. Alpine's tail dipped into the cup and licked it off her tail, you giggled as you sat down on the floor next to him, he tsked and pulled you into his lap, he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck and hummed softly. “Alright Sugar, let’s see what we have here,” he murmured softly into your ear.

You handed him one of the few things you got him, one being a new watch because his old one was getting ratty, and a bottle of cologne since his was getting low and a key chain with the picture of you two on it. Practical things he would use regularly. 

He got you a new charm for your pandora bracelet, a bottle of the perfume you wore regularly and a new pair of thigh high socks you liked to wear. You kissed his cheek, thanking him for the thoughtful gifts and he returned the kiss by planting one on your lips. “There's one more,” you said softly, standing up and going to your closet and pulling it out, opting to leave them in the bag the older man packed them in. You returned and sat down in Bucky’s lap again, his arms wound around your waist and looked over your shoulder, peering curiously at the bag. 

“Sugar,” he started. 

“Just open it,” you cut him off, leaning back against him. He opened it slowly, pulling the first book out, and you felt his breath catch as he looked at it, he flicked the book open, his breath out right stopping as he read the information page. 

“Sugar, you never cease to amaze me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple and looking through the other books. Once he finished he put the bag under the tree and lifted you easily so you were facing him in his lap. His eyes were a little glassy as he looked into yours, he cupped your face and leaned forward to kiss you deeply. He then maneuvered you forward and your back hit the floor, comforted by the plush rug under you, and he crawled over your body showing you just how much he appreciated your gift.

Please let me know if you want more, have questions or thoughts about Sugar and Bucky. Let me know If you want to hear about the trip to visit family, and dragging Steve along.

[phie04]

Inconvenience | g. clarke

Chapter 1 - Moving out

Word Count: 1.2K

summary: time for Noa to get out of her apartment, with the assistance of Mr Christopher Dixon

Warnings: extremely mild angst / sad undertones

noamurphy

liked by chrismd10, arthurtv and 10,373 others

noamurphy no bc why is packing the worst

comments open

chrismd10 you haven’t finished packing?

⮑ noamurphy perhaps not

arthurtv you’re moving in an hour you do realise?

⮑ noamurphy yes very aware thank you. and it’s more like in five minutes and not 1 hour

⮑ arthurtv so stop replying and get packing

fan1 omg is she moving in with the boys??

⮑ noamurphy never they’re too messy x

⮑ arthurtv I refute this comment

⮑ noamurphy okay lawyer

⮑ glambyflo god i can't wait for you to be here xx

⮑ noamurphy can't wait to see you!!

fan2 praying this means more Noa content with the boys

⮑ fan3 please!!! just having her occasionally appear in Chris’ videos isn’t enough

gkbarry_ everyone shut up my girl is moving to London

⮑ noamurphy all for you babe x

maxbalegde I need to meet you immediately as soon as you’ve moved in

⮑ noamurphy consider it done x

Noa felt on the verge of crying. On the one hand, she knew this was exactly what she wanted, moving out of her cramped apartment and away from her tormenting job, to a significantly better apartment and a small position at her dream architecture firm. Still, it was all very terrifying.

The move from Jersey to Edinburgh for university was hard enough, followed by a slightly rushed decision to do a masters in Cambridge meant that Noa never really felt settled wherever she went. So, when an apartment in the same building in which her childhood friends Arthur and Chris lived became available, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t that her apartment was bad, it just didn’t feel like home - as hard as she tried, her room felt more like a dorm and office rolled into one, with plans and building ideas scattered around.

She rubbed her face, trying to stave of the feelings of exhaustion as more books were piled into one of the many half filled moving boxes. Regretting the four hours of sleep the night before, Noa reached to the side to grab her can of Monster, cursing when she found it empty.

"Knock knock! It's you're favourite person!" a voice called in the hallway, followed by the small pitter-patter of hobbit feet.

Noa rolled her eyes and stood up, grimacing at how her joints cracked as she stretched. "Either Arthur has dramatically shrunk, or something isn't right here."

Chris chuckled as he pulled Noa in for a hug, his eyebrows raising as he took in her state. "I see you've had an ample amount of sleep."

She chuckled, turning away from him to start closing the lids on the packing boxes. "You know I thrive off practically no sleep. That's how I did A Levels. And most of university." Noa shrugged.

"I'm aware. So how much packing have you got left to do? Because I'd preferably want to be on the road before it gets too busy." Chris asked, nervously glancing at his watch.

"Calm your tits Dixie we’ll be fine.” Noa grinned, walking into her cardboard box of a bedroom to grab her last couple of things. “But thank you though, I appreciate the help.”

Chris smiled, as he began stacking boxes in the hallway. “You’re welcome Noa, plus now that we’re living in the same building, I can just borrow all your stuff. And your food.”

“I thought the four of you were good at cooking? At least, when you have the right utensils and ingredients.”

“You weren’t the one who had to try those pizzas.” Chris shivered, trying to suppress the memories. “So it’s just these boxes yeah?”

“Sure is!” Noa called, emerging from the bedroom with a backpack and duffel bag. “One of the pros of renting a furnished place, don’t have to move all the furniture when you leave.”

“Are you gonna miss it?”

“Jesus no the mattress was horrible.”

“Not the furniture you idiot, the place in general.”

Noa shrugged as she did one last sweep of the kitchen, checking that she hadn’t left anything behind. “It was nice, but it just felt like the right time to move on.”

Chris nodded, picking up one of the lighter looking boxes, helping Noa ferry them into the hall.

As he grabbed the last box from the living room, curiosity got the better of him and he had a quick peek inside (Noa had written a note on the box telling him to specifically not look). His heart tightened at the sight of the blue football boots inside, mud streaks and grass stains still evident across soles and laces. The leather was deeply creased and the colour was worn around the eyelets of the laces, they used to be used frequently, but the small layer of dust that had collected on them proved that they’d been hidden away for a while.

Rifling around in the box more, he found the matching shin pads, as well as a collection of dog eared photos. Chris smiled fondly, holding the Polaroid up to the light so he could clearing see the people in the image.

It was himself, Noa and Arthur as kids - all grinning at each other. Noa’s hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which was once probably neat, but in the moment it was a mess, flyaways everywhere and her baby hairs sticking to her forehead. Arthur and Chris looked significantly younger, baby faces prominent, with a definitive lack of facial hair. Chris felt his eyes water with emotion, remembering the ecstasy of the moment. Even as an adult, the unbridled joy of seeing someone you cared for win their football league was contagious.

Though he couldn’t help but sigh sadly, knowing how much everything had changed.

“Christopher! I specifically wrote a note on that box for you not to rummage through that!” Noa sighed, taking it from his hands and repacking it quickly.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d get all like…this.” She replied, gesturing her arms up and down at him.

“You just gestured to all of me.” Chris said indignantly, screwing his face up in confusion.

“I’m aware.” Noa answered, pulling the front door open with a grunt, pushing some boxes with her left foot to hold it open. “Now let’s get this show on the road yeah?”

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge it?”

“Acknowledge what Chris?”

“Don’t do this Noa, c’mon.” He sighed, moving to block her view of the boxes that she was busying herself with. “You’ve still got those boots.”

“Sure do.” She replied shortly, piling a small valuables box on top of one marked ‘kitchen - don’t drop’. “Got all my football stuff in there.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Noa huffed. “What’s left to talk about? We’ve talked about it many times, I think we’ve covered everything. And it was five years ago Chris.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, not convinced. “Okay, okay, but if you want to talk, me and Arthur are here.”

“Very aware of that, thanks.”

author speaks: welcome to the first proper chapter! Hope you enjoyed it :)

[elkian]

Something I noted in the Hobbit that's started to rear its head in Fellowship is this:

Tolkien, again and again, stresses the importance of resting.

You have to rest. You have to sleep. Danger is on the way, yes, but it isn't here yet and you'd be better off being rested for when it comes.

You have to recover. You're wounded/starved/traumatized, you need to rest. Both Bilbo and Frodo's early journeys include months-long stays in Elrond's house.

And you have to eat. Things look grim, and having a full belly won't stop that, but it will make you better-prepared to handle it. Bilbo's journey and company nearly die from starvation in the Mirkwood, to the point that being taken prisoner by an unknown nation was a better prospect.

And yeah we can point at Tolkien's personal experiences (though idk if it's quite the same for when the Hobbit was written), but he's not wrong. You have to rest. Staying up for days on end to face endless danger is a great line in an epic poem from ages past, but in the here and now, you are mortal and you need. to. REST.

I don't have the language for it at the moment (I'm overdue for dinner myself), but I love that an integral part of being capable of heroism is being fed and rested. That you have to take care of yourself if you want to get anything done, and when the characters take care of themselves, it's never to the exclusion of others. Elrond and Beorn and so many others break bread with the companies, Farmer Maggot finds trespassers and once pleasantries are out of the way, he feeds them and gives them a ride and gives them a snack for the road (which is also part of a big in-joke, because the work contains multitudes).

I keep thinking of the bit near the end of the Hobbit, where Bilbo's part in the company becomes perhaps the most crucial it's been because he wants to go home. He wants to sleep in his warm, dry, soft bed, and he wants to eat food that wasn't designed to stay 'edible' for months on end, and he wants a goddamn cup of tea!

And over and over I think about him turning over the Arkenstone, which he himself coveted, and he says, out loud, without subtext, that Thorin will sit on his pile of gold and starve to death if nothing changes.

Bilbo's ability to be surrounded by fabulous treasure, appreciate it, and then consciously decide that having basic creature comforts and his needs met are better than the potential-but-not-yet-extent wealth of mountains of gold. Bilbo is referenced in the Fellowship, at the beginning, as someone who often spends his money and gives gifts and enjoys good food, as hobbits are wont.

Hobbits are almost joke characters in the setting, in these epic tales, and that is their strength. The Hobbit is appropriately named, because the company would have been doomed multiple times over without Bilbo, even if he is embellishing his memoirs. Gandalf correctly identified that the company would need someone who could, with serious determination, say, "gold is great and all but it needs to be spent or it's worthless". He needs someone who, when faced with a cold tomb of treasure and a hearty meal, will choose the latter every time, even if there's some hesitation or puttering around with the treasures first.

Hell, Bilbo gave up The One Ring and he did it twice in the Fellowship alone - once at the birthday party, and then at Elrond's house. Yes, he did some dubious stuff to get it and when he had it, but the fact that he gave it up and managed to stick with that decision is honestly absolutely incredible when we see people like Gandalf, Galadriel, and more struggling to restrain themselves. Gandalf all but begs not to be offered it, because he does not consider himself strong enough to give it up, or at least not before causing immense harm (this is implied, anyhow; I'm listening to the radio play version so I need to go back and check the narration in the text later).

(Also, I think it was very important for Bilbo to have his Moment at the House of Elrond - because it scared Frodo. And I think that's what knocked Bilbo out of his fervor - looking into the face of his heir, ward, adopted child and seeing fear, and realizing he was the source of it, and the Ring was not worth that to him.

And Frodo had only twice worn the Ring til now - neither time willingly - and this is an excellent wake-up call. He sees his pleasant-if-odd guardian turn into something horrifying and alien, a monster that covets the trinket in his hand, and he knows now exactly how that happened.)

The Hobbits are such wonderful protagonists particularly because they're about as far from classic epic heroes as you can get. Thorin and Aragorn are having Heroic Returning King stories happening one step to the left of our focal characters, who are preoccupied with whether they'll be able to eat tonight. The Hobbits regularly lend both levity and pragmatism to the party, and there's something very funny about the amount of "I'll do it, you can't stop me from doing it, but I am going to complain the whole time" that I've seen come up in the Fellowship specifically, though it was definitely there in the Hobbit.

[mrbigpepperoninipples]

Spoiler for lotr book 1 fellowship of the ring chapters 3 and 4 (I did doodles)

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Chapter 3! I thought Gandalf would be there by now but he hasn’t so I drew a Pippin

They’re a moving

Eminem and Bilbo have never been seen in the same room together, think about that

The group in big tree, I draw them soup

When people say elves I think of Santa’s Elves sooo yeah

Hobbits sleeping in piles>>>

Chapter 4 (it was hilarious when Frodo and Sam were afraid of dogs)

Sam and Pippin dramatic alcoholics confirmed?

A llooonnngg journey

Baby Frodo stealing mushrooms

[yourfatherlucifer]

To Die For (Hongjoong)

Orc Leader!Hongjoong x afab!Reader

Summary: You were at the wrong place, at the wrong time. You were captured by orcs and brought to their leader, being offered as a meal, but you didn’t want to die, so you made a new offer.

AU: LOTR/Historical

Genre: Smut

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, monster cock, heavily inspired by LOTR, rough Hongjoong, mentions of breeding, choking, marking/biting, blood, seven foot tall HJ,

@kithsune for the banner

( @minkysmilk )

It was getting closer to colder days so your village was preparing by having everyone who was able to gather wood to stockpile. Crops were being dug up so they wouldn’t shrivel up.

Children weren’t playing outside anymore, their parents afraid of their children getting sick. Cattle and livestock brought into their respective spaces.

The village of Bree was quite peaceful, humans and hobbits lived in peace together. They shared their resources and chores. The fall and winter time was hard for both species, especially having to rely on each others techniques. Many people died due to cold related illnesses, more due to raids on the village.

"Y/N, could you be a dear and help me with this?" An older hobbit approached you with an arm of wood.

You had chuckled at your neighbor, "Of course, Magnus." Bending down, you took the pile from his arms and followed him to his home.

You glanced at your brother Wooyoung gathering your family's cattle, he was struggling with one particular cow, it was pulling back away from him, trying to break free of the lead. Wooyoung was equally pulling back his way, but the cow just stopped its force, causing Wooyoung to fly back into the dirt.

You laughed at the sight, no idea why that cow always teased him.

After you placed the wood inside your neighbors home, you returned to yours.

Your mother was cooking a nice stew over the fire, "Hello, Y/N, did you have a finish your chores?" You nodded and stepped beside her.

"I did, but Wooyoung seems to be struggling with the cow again. You glanced out the window to check on your younger brother, who was scolding the cow and dragging her off.

Your mother had shook her head before pulling the pot away from the fire, “Isn’t he always? That cow is a stubborn one, we should just sell it.”

“Go tell your brother to come eat.”

-

As you laid in your bed, shivering, you had thought about leaving to go get more firewood. However with it being so late at night, you could easily be attacked and killed.

Possibly kidnapped by bandits and sold for a profit.

But the night air was just so cold and the fire had burnt out long ago.

So, you decided against yourself and the obvious risks. You gathered your shoes and cloak made of wool, not the finest, but it shall do.

After carefully sneaking past your sleeping mother and brother, you made your way outside. All was quiet, your hobbit neighbors were fast asleep.

You had quickly run into the woods, grabbing a hatchet on the way. You knew you couldn't cut down full trees, so you'd settle for limbs.

After walking for a solid fifteen minutes, you had found the perfect tree limb to cut down.

But as you were preparing to swing down the mini axe, you heard growls, yells, feet pounding in the distance. That wasn't good.

Was it a group of bandits, orcs, goblins?

It was so close you knew you wouldn't be able to make it home, you had no clue how to fight, but you had the hatchet with you, so maybe, just maybe you could defend yourself.

You couldn't though, you knew you'd die trying. So you ran as fast as you could to the village area of Bree. Your home.

It was a poor attempt anyway, not even two minutes of running you could hear the snarls of Wargs and yells of the Orc Riders. You were screwed, so screwed. You didn't want to die so what you could you do? You could try to run faster but your energy was depleting rapidly, your legs were trying to give out beneath you.

It was all for nothing, you had been surrounded by three orcs, each one snapping their jaws at you. The Wargs behind them looked even hungrier.

One had cackled at your frightened state, "She looks so yummy! Don't you agree?" He licked his lips, well if there were any. You couldn't exactly tell, didn't matter anyway. You were to worried about being eaten alive by these three orcs.

Another stepped to you, "Y'know, Hongjoong would love to eat this pretty little human. She smells just like his favorite kind." Your jaw was gripped by its clawed hand, your face squished between its disgusting fingers.

"Oi, tie her up, we're bringing her home for the leader."

You yelped as you were grabbed and pulled around. A tight rope was wrapped around your torso and ankles.

An orc swung your body on top of a Warg, face down and jumped up behind your body.

-

You had arrived in Isengard, beneath the Earth's soil, beneath the two towers of Saruman. The orc who had captured you, dragged your body behind him, the holler of fellow orcs and goblins resounded around the dirt walls.

You could hear them laughing, mockingly, at your state. Another human captured to eat.

"Leader Hongjoong! We brought you a present, its your favorite." Your body was thrown in front of a massive orc, body rolling on the dirt ground.

You cried and groaned at the way you were being handled. You knew you were going to die, you knew you'd never see your brother Wooyoung or your mother ever again. Would they even look for you? How would they find out you were eaten by orcs.

The giant orc bent down to your body, his gray skin and black eyes scared you. You had never seen an orc so large. A whopping seven feet tall.

He moved your hair out of your face, "She smells delicious, boys. Fantastic job, I haven't had a meal that smelled so good, in so long."

You quickly scrambled yourself away from him, "W-wait! Please! I don't want to die! I will do anything! I'll offer my body in other ways!" You cried out, wanting to rub your hands together to beg but you couldn't. Your body was still well-tied together.

His evil grin splattered his face, "Oh really, human? In what ways can your body serve a purpose to me, other than being food?" He was mocking you, he knew what you meant.

"Anything! Please, I'll be your personal pleasure outlet! I-I know how orcs plunder humans for a quick fuck, but I just don't want to die!" You were stumbling over your words at this point, it was pathetic to him, but your offer. Your offer was very exciting for him.

His shit-eating grin was still on his face, "deal."

Hongjoong yanked you to your feet, grabbing the rope on your chest, he pulled you behind him, "You cannot back down now, cause if you do. I will eat you. Understand?"

"Yes! I understand!"

-

Hongjoong brought you to his quarters, shoving you inside.

After he ripped the rope and clothes from your body, he shoved you down to his makeshift bed.

You fell down with a yelp, staring up at him. He was just so big. You took this time to relish in his brown mullet hair, the split eyebrow, the piercings that lined each ear. He was beautiful in a way, didn't look like an orc much at all. He had more human tones. But his height, skin, and ears represented the orc features.

As you lay bare on his bed, you noticed his loin cloth covered nothing, instead it was pushed out of the way by a monster sized cock. The size and girth were both size of your forearm, if not more. Just how were you gonna take that inside of you? It could rip you apart.

Hongjoong noticed you staring at him, then his fat cock, "You'll take it no matter what, don't worry."

His massive body climbed on top of you.

He trapped you beneath him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Your body is mine now."

His gray hand gripped your waist, "I suppose I shall prepare your fragile human body to take me."

He moved down to your already wet core, he smirked, knowing how you felt about his cock. Greedy human.

He licked a long stripe down your wetness with his large tongue, your body arching itself in response to the newfound pleasure you were receiving.

He took one of his thick fingers and forcefully plunged it inside.

As he pumped it in and out, your moans echoed throughout the dirt room, you were sure the other orcs could hear you, "ah, ah, this feels so good." You cried out.

He pushed another finger in, "You haven't felt anything yet. Just wait till I'm fully inside you."

Minute after minute of him pushing several fingers inside of you, constantly, he deemed you were ready for him.

He removed his loin cloth from his body, you were terrified, just how badly was this gonna hurt? Could you take every inch of his? Would it kill you?

Hongjoong pulled your chin to look at him, "look at me while I am taking you, human."

He bared his canines and bit into your shoulder, drawing blood painfully. You screamed, you were definitely sure the orcs could hear you now.

He slowly pushed his massive cock inside of you. The stretch burned so bad that you started full on sobbing, but it felt so good at the same time. A very large stomach bulge appeared on your stomach, he was fully sheathed inside of you.

He pulled you to his chest by roughly grabbing your neck, pulling you up like you weighed nothing to him.

"I want to breed you so bad, but I cannot. Our species cannot mix. Orcs are only created by pure evil and corruption, so instead I'll just fill you with my seed." The evil glint in his eyes scared you, but you couldn't stick to the thought much, as his fat cock rested within you.

Throwing you back down to the bed, he began his rough pounding, nothing but your moans, his groans, and the repeated skin slapping filled the room.

The grip he had on your waist was sure to leave large and dark bruises.

You were already cock drunk with his thrusting. The stomach bulge was moving so fast, it felt so good, you weren't even sure how far he reached inside of you. You didn't care though, his cock felt so good.

Hongjoong brought him self down and bit into your breast, not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave marks. He repeated this action with the repeated thrusting below. He took his fingers and pinched at your clit, "Release on me, human, now." He was striving to bring you to your orgasm, he didn't care if you did or not, he just wanted to feel it on his monster cock.

"Gonna fill you up so much."

He growled in your ear as his thrusting became sloppy.

Soon, his cum filled your walls, his cum filling your stomach, creating the illusion of you looking pregnant, instead you were filled to the brim with orc cum.

When he pulled out, his cum flowed out so fast like a river, there was just so much of it, it seemed never ending.

Your body was so exhausted and sore you could not move.

Hongjoong laughed at you, "I knew this would happen. So rest, for this is your fate now, you are stuck here forever to be my cumdump."

Now you knew your family would never find you.

[backhurtyy]

hi my most beloved can i request “we’ll never get to sleep if you keep fidgeting like that.” or “no, don’t stop. i like the sound of your voice.” with either zukka or legolas and gimli <3

anything for you! mwah! i once again fell victim to the can't shut up disease, so have some gigolas beneath the cut <3

The Galadhrim's lament for Gandalf fills the forest, a haunting melody that floats through the trees and sits heavy upon Legolas' heart, but he cannot bring himself to join in.

Not because of his own grief, not because he is reluctant to sing it and acknowledge that Gandalf, a seemingly invincible force in the world, is gone. Rather, it's because he can't stop thinking about another loss, one that will not be mourned or acknowledged by the elves but is no less great. Because he can't stop thinking about the devastation on Gimli's face as he beheld Balin's tomb, about the hollow thud of his helm against the stone, about how Gimli had to be ripped away from the memorial lest they lose him too. About how the entire city was full of Gimli's lost kin.

About how he has lost more than just Gandalf, and his grief has gone seemingly unnoticed.

He casts his eyes around their campsite, finding Aragorn and Boromir in quiet conference and the hobbits resting in a pile, but no Gimli. He frowns, rising to his feet swiftly and setting out to find him.

He won't come to physical harm in Lothlórien now that he's been granted permission to roam the forests, but that doesn't stop Legolas from worrying. After all, heartache can cause as much harm as an enemy can.

He trods through the forest on light feet, straining his ears for any sound besides the Galadhrim's song or the rustling of leaves in the wind. He is just beginning to wonder if he'll ever find Gimli - it is, after all, a large forest - when he catches the briefest hint of another melody, carried to him by a particularly strong breeze. It's not the soft, haunting melody of the elves, but rather something gruff and painful and raw.

It's still beautiful, though, and he knows without a doubt that it is Gimli, singing a mourning song for his lost kin in the rough-rock language of the dwarves. After only a moment of hesitation, debating whether he should give Gimli the privacy he took such great pains to seek out or trust his gut and go to him, he begins following the song.

He finally finds Gimli at the edge of the river, a lit fire before him and his face turned down to the rocks beneath his boots. He is still singing, a hand pressed to his heart, and Legolas can just barely see the glimmer of tears on his cheeks before they disappear into his beard.

Gimli's voice isn't necessarily beautiful - not like Legolas finds the lilting voices of the elves or the joyous voices of the hobbits or even the softness of Aragorn's - but it's strong and sad and it fills Legolas' heart all the same, entrancing him and making it so that he couldn't turn away, even if he wanted to. It draws him in, and he barely thinks before taking another step towards Gimli.

Gimli's voice cuts off when he hears the rocks crunch beneath Legolas' foot, and he turns to face him. "Master Elf," he says, somewhat awkwardly, though he makes no effort to wipe away the tears or pretend he'd been doing anything other than mourning.

"I'm sorry," Legolas says, equally as awkward. He'd been so sure of his convictions when he set out to find Gimli, so determined that the dwarf shouldn't be alone in his mourning, but now that they're looking at each other, he finds he doesn't know what to say. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just... Worried. I suppose."

"Worried that I'm causing trouble, eh? Well, I'll just remind you that the Lady Galadriel gave me permission to roam these forests, and I-" he says haughtily, before Legolas cuts him off.

"Not at all, Master Dwarf. I was worried that you were alone in your sorrow, and thought you might like company. But if I was wrong then say the word and I shall leave you without another word."

Gimli blinks at him once, twice, before his great beard twitches with a small smile. "Ah. Well. I suppose I'd be a fool to say no to the opportunity for an elf to mourn dwarves. Join me, Master Elf."

Legolas smiles and goes to join Gimli before the fire. "I am sorry you couldn't spend more time with them in Moria."

Gimli sighs and turns his face back to the rocks. "'Tis probably for the best. With the mines overrun by goblins, and that devilish creature of fire and ash... At least I can now carry the news back to Erebor. To their families." He's silent for a long time, before he says dryly, "You must think me a fool for even having hope they were alive. It seems everyone but me knew Khazad-dûm's fate."

"I don't think it's ever foolish to have hope," Legolas says quietly. "After all, hope may be all that helps us complete this quest."

Gimli looks at him again, studying Legolas with his dark eyes, and smiles again. "I am glad you sought me out, Master Elf. It is good to have company."

"Legolas," he says without thinking. "Just... Legolas. I would have us be friends, as Gandalf wished."

Gimli's eyes twinkle. "Well I can't be outdone by an elf. You shall call me Gimli, then... Legolas. My friend."

Legolas' heart feels refreshingly light, then, and it is that which gives him the courage to ask, "Your song... It was a mourning song?"

"Ah. Yes. This isn't quite the proper funeral for dwarves, especially not for a Dwarf Lord such as Balin, but it'll do until I return home. I don't have to finish it, though, I'm sure my voice is grating for such delicate ears as yours."

Legolas' hand flies out to gently grasp Gimli's shoulder. "No. No, don't stop. I enjoyed the sound of your voice. It was... It felt... Real. Please, finish it. I will listen."

Gimli smiles again, broader then Legolas has seen him smile the entire time they've been on this journey, and shakes his head. "You are not as expected, Ma- Legolas. But as you wish. I will continue my song."

He resumes singing, his strong voice drowning out the elves, and Legolas closes his eyes and lets the words carry him away.

[the-noir-symphony]

Legolas: I think I'm in love... Aragorn: What?! Who?! Tauriel? She's already eloped with Kili. Legolas: No... A male actually... Aragorn *Unroll an exceptionally long scroll*: Gimli? He's too short, and too much beard. Aragorn: The hobbits? Nah, they sleep in pile. Aragorn: Or Boromir? He has smelly feet and is a bro-con. Aragorn: Gandalf is just too old and never in time. Aragorn: So, who is your interest? Legolas: ...

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The "I'm in love" Aragorn version XD

[eileenslibrary]

Big Enough Bedroll For The Two Of Us

Thorin x Reader

Warnings: Rain, Not The Greatest Writing, Hypothermia (Mentioned x2), Nudity, Sharing A Bed Trope But A Bit Different, Fluff

It’s raining, water pours down on all fifteen of you cold to the bones, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit try to catch up to you “Stop walking so damn fast with your long legs” Fili cusses nearly slipping on the mud “I have a reason to walk fast! I am more susceptible to hypothermia than all of you don’t you remember!” You shout back turning around and huddling your blue cloak around you trying to stay warm. Fili and Kili grumble in frustration as the other dwarves start catching up with you, Thorin quickly finding his place next to you, his hair sticking to his face. His blue eyes calculate the scenery “What’s the layout?” You hum shivering letting out a shaky breath as water starts dripping down your neck into your shirt, your armor doing nothing to stop it. “I think I see a cave over there, we can set camp until the rain clears” He sighs, Thorin shouts the order to the others, and a series of “at last” and “finally” can be heard from Kili, Fili, and Bilbo. You all hurry over to the place Thorin says he sighted the cave.

You see it and sigh in happiness. It is a cave, and it’s dry, you begin unpacking and check if your bedroll made it out dry, to your luck it did. You place it on the ground keeping your boots off of it, you strip your cloak off and undo all of your armor throwing it in a pile, and you dig in your pack to grab some dry clothing. You hum in frustration at the open wide cave giving you no privacy to change, you feel a presence behind you and a big blanket suddenly be thrown in front of you. “I’ll hold it up, get changed” Your eyes widen surprised that it is Thorin of all people saying that. “Thank you, Thorin” You hush slipping off your boots and socks and putting them next to your cloak. Thorin picks up the blanket holding it in front of you as you change out of your wet clothes and into your dry ones “I’m done” Thorin drops the blanket down at that “You are still in your wet clothes, you should have changed” You scold noticing his tunic sticking to his torso in what seems to be an uncomforting way “I also change in privacy (Name)” He says quickly looking down at you “Oh, well would you like me to return the favor?” You stand offering to hold the blanket, Thoring stays quiet for a moment thinking of a response “I would yes” He sighs handing the blanket to you. He leads you to his pack, his dry clothes on the ground, you notice his bedroll didn’t make it out dry due to the harsh rain “Thorin, Where are you to sleep?” you sigh as you turn around holding the blanket up giving him privacy, he does not give you an answer. You shake your head, at least this blanket is dry “Are you planning to sleep only with this blanket?” You ask, seething when more cold beads of water drip down your shirt from your head. “I was, why?” He grumbles “Because I will not allow it!” You fuss your eyebrows creasing in worry. He chuckles, only you can hear it “And where am I to sleep?” He presses. You listen to him clasping a cloak around his shoulders “I have enough room in my bedroll. It will benefit me as well, I will have a lower chance of getting sick if I have another person to keep me warm, due to my body temperature being significantly lower I am more susceptible to catching an illness that can end up in death or amputation” You point out to him. You hear him sigh and the both of you fall into silence, you feel anxiety rise “Did I overstep?” you think biting your lip at the silence.

 “I am dressed,” He says after a while of silence. You fold the blanket and turn around looking at him handing it back, you turn and go back to your bedroll, unrolling the wool-lined fabric and slipping into it, you pull it around yourself, still shivering. Kili and Fili gather as much dry wood as they can from outside pilling it up for a fire, You watch Bofur tear a few pages from his notebook as kindling, they finally get a fire going, Balin and Dwalin start cooking up some dinner for all of you. 

You sip down the hot soup quickly feeling the warmth flow through your system. You were huddling between Fili and Balin trying to find more warmth “I hate how the cold wind blows right through me” You grumble in protest of the weather, some of the dwarves chuckle at your statement. Bilbo agrees with you happily making you cheer up slightly at not being completely alone in this horrid freezing state. You look across from you and see Thorin staring at you, his hair beginning to frizz up as it dries. You nod toward him in acknowledgment before finding interest in your stew sipping it up hungrily. Supper comes to an end and the dwarves all start going to bed, you move back to your original place, pulling on another tunic and an extra pair of socks to stay warm. You hear someone approaching you, Thorin you realize, he stares down at you “May I still take you up on that offer?” He asks, you nod and hold up one side of your bedroll for him to slide into. He willingly slots himself next to you throwing the blanket from earlier over you both. You shift to lay on your side so he has more room, he thanks you quietly and lays down next to you, turns on his side facing you, and shuffles closer to you. To your surprise he offers his arm as a pillow for you “Rest your head, it will warm you up” This Is all you get from him. You nod and lay on his arm, your cheeks heat as he pulls you flush to his chest tucking your head in his neck, the moment becoming intimate quickly, Thorin's soft breathing calms you, his body heat quickly warming you up. Your eyes flutter closed and you begin slipping into the land of dreams, but you faintly feel a pair of lips pressing quickly to your forehead. 

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[blueish30]

3rd life Scarian fluff

500~ words

implied death at the end

Please feel free to look at my pinned post for boundaries and leave writing requests in my asks ^^

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Grian never intended to stick by Scar. That’s what he told himself every time he was subject to watch the man run around the desert with a bee in tow.

Scar is nice company though, Grian recalls late nights sat on monopoly mountain, the sandstone making for quite an uncomfortable seat. Grian remembers Scar’s hand slipping around his shoulders, gently pulling him closer and closer, and when Grian looked up at Scar, the pale-skinned man would just beam down at him. That became a nightly routine and it was no different tonight.

Grian ached, after the countless battles with Dogwarts (the worst faction in his opinion, I mean, who has a dog for a king, it’s ridiculous!) he’d surely pulled at least 10 muscles. Grian carefully lowered himself to sit on the sandstone steps, and after a few moments Scar walked out of their base behind him and sat beside Grian. Most of the server was visible from up here, beyond the cactus wall and treeline small flickers of orange dotted the horizon, and the built up walls of Dogwarts stood proud on a Stone Mountain. He wondered what their nightly routine was, did they all try to pile into a few beds pushed together? Did they sleep alone, feeling the chill of the stone? Or perhaps they were in pairs, feeding off of one anothers warmth. In Scott and Jimmy’s hobbit hole, did they cuddle eachother to sleep, pretending to be husbands even behind the walls? Or did they sleep separately, some invisible force between them. He thought about Joel, maybe his dogs would climb into bed with him, embracing the lonely man in a warmth that was so close yet so far from being human. The crastle, Grian wouldn’t be surprised if they all actually did sleep in one bed. He felt Scar’s eyes on him, and before he could lock eyes with him Scar spoke.

“It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?”

When Grian looked over, Scar wasn’t watching him anymore, rather he was facing forwards with his head tilted towards the night sky. Grian shrugged.

“I’m not that cold.”

He always just seemed to run warm, unlike Scar who constantly complained of cold fingers despite them living in the desert. Without warning, Scar placed his palm on Grian’s bare forearm, green eyes widening.

“You’ve like- stolen all the warmth!”

Their eyes met, and Grian’s face split into a grin.

“Get off me, you’re so cold!” He laughed but made no move to push Scar’s hand away. Grian felt Scar’s arms loop around him and tug. He fell backwards into Scar with quite the undignified noise, small wings giving a surprised flap. He found himself pressed against Scar, who was trapping him in a hug. Grian for once, didn’t protest, and after a bit of shifting, even relaxed. They stayed like that until they fell asleep, and would wake up sore but embraced in eachother.

The desert would soon be littered with red and bones, and moments like these would be scarce but the memories would be fresh in their minds, memories of a time they could sleep.

[dracobrooklyn]

Wait, wait

That trope of human (or maybe dragonborn) sacrifice to appease the angry dragon

That with dragon!Durge and Tav

He refuses to eat them cuz they're too cute for that. Now they just sit on top of a pile of beautiful, soft cloth and bedding, his most precious treasure

Dragon!Durge 👀

|| MDNI || 18+ NO MINORS

Durge has been called so many names, The White Death, the Icy Tyrant, the bloody white wolf. But his real name is Durge.

His mother a white dragon that yes mated with Bhaal and she conceived her son. Named him Durge. Once he was old enough his mother was going to drive him out so he may take care of himself now but he actually left on his own. Sorry mom your not gonna get the satisfaction of kicking him out.

Durge found a Bhaal Cult in a city not in Baldurs Gate but in another part of the world. Though he had no problem proving he is the son of Bhaal, his red eyes gleaming with murderous intent. Killed a few followers just to prove a point and put the fear of god in them.

Just to add he is NOT a lazy dragon like Smaug from the Hobbit. He is very active. Yes he will sleep in his mounds of treasures and maybe clean his cave a little bit. He don’t mind a few bones here and there but he like to make an good impression to potential mates so he may spread his seed.

The Cult decided to start doing sacrifices, so they would steal virgin women (even though Durge could care less if they were virgins, just give him a poor sorry mortal he can feast).

Well… it backfired. Cause the first virgin sacrifice they saw was you. A young lady kidnapped in Baldurs Gate. You were so scared, frightened even. Crying that hoping someone would save you, perhaps a knight? An adventurer? But your stomach dropped hearing the wing beats of a dragon, a white dragon that looked as if he was stained with red on his scales as if blood was never washed from him. You had silent tears down your eyes and watch in horror, how he landed blowing cold air in your face, stalking towards you as his chest rumbles softly showing his red blood eyes glowing down at you showing nothing nothing but pure pride as if his face was saying “pathetic……” and his head tilts “and….pretty.”

The cultist chant praying for their Dragon god to take the life ready to be blessed… only for them to see Their mighty Durge snap the ropes free with his claw and snatch you away, while you screamed in fear leaving his cultists confused af… maybe he prefer to eat alone don’t like people watching him?

“So no Sacrifice?” One asked looked at each other

You on the other hand fainted. Thank Bhaal, he wasn’t sure if he could take anymore… then again it was amusing to see the fear and watch you pass out.

Later you would have woke up with fine pillows, silks, and a pile of dress’s that were just left for you. You thought maybe you could sneak out but Durge made himself known that he was curled around you staring at you as you stared back.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked

“Do you want to die?” He ask bluntly

“N-no please don’t kill me.”

“Then I won’t, besides, I don’t want to already lose my new pet.”

New pet!!? Now you just realized that you were stuck here with a monster… who kills innocent beings. Oh gods she hoped someone come and save you…

I definitely took some inspiration from my favorite Dragon artist/Writer Ciruelo who made a book of Dragons and talked about how Dragons male Dragons would get Lonely easily since they mate once a year and it’s not easy for male Dragons to become friends since they are territorial. So they pick up favorites, women of any race to keep them company, tell stories, sing songs, and cuddle………… also Fucking but Ciruelo didn’t want to put that in a kids book which I understand but I honestly can tell that was another intention the dragons had.

Kinda wanna do more… send me more ask’s about this 👀

[yearningaces]

The concept of Nyx’s Partner being a hunter is so interesting to me. Like Nyx is in danger? Boom! Whatever animal is attacking is immediately dealt with. Nyx wants some clothes to keep him warm? He now has an entire collection of furs and coats at his disposal. I just wanna give him and his family all that I can offer~💖

- 🪩 Anon

And they will forever adore you- their own special human!

For some fun, little ideas I keep rotating in my brain:

Rabbit-hybrids are small, like... 3/4ths the size of the average human at best.

They tend to live in burrows together or at least burrow side by side(hobbit-esk design if you need a visual)

This means, the bunny-folks home is tiny compared to a human. And once Nyx's family gets to know you, how gentle you are with their Nyx and with them as extention? Well, that practically makes you family already! Not like Nyx will ever leave your side, everyone in his family can see how enamored he is.

So what do they do? They make you your own chair at the supper table, larger and stronger to support you. They make silverware and dishes that are more your size, grandpa bun even crochets you a blanket twice the size of his normal ones so you can be cozy when staying there too

Grandpa bun, ever the burrow bun(as opposed to house husband) will also try to learn how to cook different sorts of meats for you. It's clumsy at first, but Nyx(who's been studying this like he's in fucking Harvard) helps and Grandpa bun has a good steak and skewers and chicken cooked like a pro

The younger rabbit-hybrids want to play chase and who better to play than the big scary human that they know is super nice? They will swarm you. They might just grab onto a leg or an arm and hang on, just keep walking it's fine it's entertainment.

The elders will want to ask you about your instincts, ones that don't seem useful to you but to them is life changing. What do you mean you have standoffs with other creatures and the first to move breaks the standoff? What do you mean you just throw your weight around to get what needs done done. You can see in the dark? To an impressive degree to them. So if you were hunting and the prey did this what would you do? For no reason other than their own knowledge of course.

The buns your age can be the most weary, they're old enough to know danger, but too young to recognize peace without a plethora of proof. Give them time and you'll be part of the gossip group, it's worth the wait I promise

Nyx will have to fight his own kin away so he can have you all to himself... For a few minutes at least. Just hold his hand, let him sit in your lap and he'll be happy.

Also, humans are carnivorous leaning omnivores. Predators in nature we could say. Any big predator needs naps. The buns are energetic to the nines but the first time you've visiting Nyx's family and you fall asleep on that soft couch? Lounging across it, blissfully sleeping?

It doesn't take long for Nyx to find you, crawl up to lay on your toreso, curling up and falling asleep... Then the young buns gather around, some trying to lay on or next to you, some sprawled on the back of the couch. The young adult buns are next, laying a blanket on the pile, maybe one or two joining but most lounge around the couch. Eventually the elders join as well. Seated in their respective spots and relaxing too.

Human designated nap time is the unspoken burrow law now, so don't be too surprised when you wake to that whole situation.

Welcome to the family!

Oh, and Nyx is total burrow bun material. Learned to cook the foods you enjoy as a human, concerts your home into a nice mix of bunny and human styles for the most comfort, and is pretty much bouncing by the door waiting for you to come home so he can literally jump into your arms, and that's if he didn't leave the house with you.