#kili: “this is who i am!”

[basil--and--sage]

Hobbit au, where everything is the same, except Kíli is in his goth phase

[breitzbachbea]

Kili and Paddy tripping over each other to sacrifice themselves, but Kili for the greater good and Paddy for his loved ones and Angus is just watching in terror and tries to hold both of them back.

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

the concepts of generations of heroes sends me. like. the ideas that heroes have grown and changed with their readers until they couldn't anymore. that as the diverse readers of comics have become more visible in the fandom they've become more visible on the page too. but more than that, I mean in the worlds themselves. you grow up. you move on. and there's a kid who's doing the same thing you were. maybe for the same reasons, maybe not. but you look at them and you think they could be good. they could be better. they could do what you did, but maybe they won't make the same mistakes. and maybe they look up to you, but you can't imagine why. you're their hero, but they don't quite understand that they're yours. that you look at them and you think, "damn. look at that." that they're a hero all their own, even though they use your name and wear your colors. you hate each other sometimes. you fight. they don't listen. they make you feel old. (you are old.) you would fight god with your bare hands if they got hurt. you're not quite siblings, not quite parent/child, not even mentor/student, because it's not like you ever knew what you were doing in the first place. there are scuffs and dents in your equipment from the time they "borrowed" it when everyone thought you were dead. you've probably screamed at each other. one of you has definitely cried. sometimes it seems like they're the older one. you had to teach them so many things and they're better at all of it now than you are. they don't know that, but you see it all the time. you're so proud of them.

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Inspired by that post about Thranduil being all defensive/protective over Gimli in Valinor:

We all know the head canon of Thorin being all "no nephew of mine even associates with an elf" BUT

Just imagine, in a world where all three Durins survived, and Tauriel saved Kili (again), and some other elf healed his and Fìli's wounds last minute.

Thorin saw both his nephews almost die before him, has LIVED through how the gold sickness twists the mind and perception of things, and after coming to terms with Bilbo's theft of the Arkenstone, he for a while questions EVERYTHING.

And yes, he totally has a dramatic phase of self pity, holing up in his rooms, drinking Elvish wine (cus thats all there is atm) and smoking Gandalf's pipeweed, and mourning how "everything i knew is a LIE" and "if elves can make such amazing wine there HAS to be some good in them" and "I almost got my boys killed I am such a failure boooohoooo", and after Bilbo kicks his ass out if depression (and a STRONG worded letter from his sister) he is like "okay FUCK y'all I have TRAUMA TM and will do WHATEVER I WANT!!"

So when Kili all shyly comes forward one day asking if Tauriel can please stay with them in the mountain because she's banished from the Woodland Realm he's all "OF COURSE she can stay, you do you my precious boy, if Thranduil is stupid enough to let such a great warrior go we'll stick it to him"

and BAM, Tauriel joins Dwalin in leading Erebor's guard, and Dwalin is torn between "excuse ME u want me to share my job with a pointy eared maiden?" And "holy hell that lass has fire can't show how impressed I am".

And Tauriel Takes No Shit even from her own boyfriend, so Kìli is forced to take his new responsibilities seriously because "I did NOT lose my home to live with a CHILD, Kili", and Fili gets dragged into the whole thing without really understanding what happened, but hey, his lil brother is happy so who cares really.

And whenever someone at council (like Dain) complains about an Elf in the mountain, Thorin goes absolutely FERAL like "are you saying I don't know what's best for this mountain I just won from A DRAGON?! are you suggesting that my perfect baby nephew has bad taste? Huh? Exactly, didn't think so!!!!" And is a protective Papa bear "listen Tauriel if someone gives you shit you SHOOT them. No, not killing them, but, you know, just maim them a little to make a point. Trust me I'm the king."

And once Kili and Tauriel have their first child Thorin constantly kidnaps the kid and has them in the forge before they can even talk because "need to keep up that good old dwarven influence".

Anyway I'll go cry myself to sleep now.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Harder, Better, Faster...

Summary - Comparing three dwarves to your exes...

Warnings - Smut, language, male genitalia, mention of bodily fluids, creampie, rough sex, lowkey breeding kink (maybe?), slight dom themes (Thorin and Fili)

Pronouns & POVs - None, third-person.

Pairings - Thorin x Reader, Fili x Reader, Kili x Reader

Word Count - 2,500+

A/N - I am once again stumped on the full smut I am writing and was listening to music when "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger" by Daft Punk came on which for some reason sparked this idea. (I have had this sitting in my drafts for far too long.) Pure smut under the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

- thorin

Harder. When it came to your past lovers, there always seemed to be something lacking when it came to more intimate activities. It was not that your past lovers were awful, but they never seemed to get you to the finish line, so you began handing out fake trophies.

It was hard to explain your desires. It was not that your previous lovers treated you poorly in or out of the bedroom; they treated you as if you were a fragile flower in and out of the bedroom, and that was the issue.

It was not an issue outside the bedroom: you loved being doted upon, having your every wish and command acted upon without question. Yet, when it came to inside the sheets -- you preferred it hard. It was simple, the easiest thing to grasp in your mind, but your previous lovers seemed to absorb the information as well as glass absorbs water; it doesn't.

It appeared hopeless until you had met Thorin.

The journey to the Misty Mountains had been treacherous. One that had left all members littered with new bumps and bruises, as well as new scars that littered their bodies alongside bruised, potentially even fractured, bones.

Throughout the journey, the company of dwarves experienced several hard struggles. Ones that took them many hours, if not days, to resolve; their nights often spent pondering as they gazed upon the stars. Yet, the stars held no answers regarding the hardest hassle they had dealt with: convincing you to accept aid.

It was not if you were neglecting yourself; you accepted food and medical aid when needed, yet you refused items the company of dwarves attempted to gift you -- such as new clothes and boots. You had been perfectly fine repairing your clothes when you had a moment. After all, the cloak you journeyed with had covered any tears within your outfit, so it was not as if the world could see the flesh the cloth once shielded.

You reminded yourself that you had to travel light: extra luggage meant extra weight, which meant extra aches and pains from lugging around said weight all day. Yet, there had been the odd occasion upon your travels where an item had caught your eye.

You had managed to stay strong until you passed it. The most beautiful pair of boots you had yet to see, in a color you adored and a style you knew was comfortable for travel: they looked perfect. You could not help but approach the stall, making small talk with the woman who ran it as you examined the boots from afar; they even appeared to be your size!

It appeared to be too good to be true, and that it was. You had been a few coins short of purchasing them, and attempting to barter the boots down to what you had was out of the question -- you needed the coins to pay for your next meal.

"How much?" The dwarven king asked from beside you, his sharp sapphire gaze glued upon the same boots. The suddenness of his deep voice startled you as you were quick to look at him, as he stood there with his arms crossed at his chest, leaning back slightly, a stance he often did while in thought.

"How much for the boots?" The dwarf repeated the question in a low and serious tone as his gaze rose from the boots to the seller. The seller calmly restated the price for the item in question, earning an amused "That's all?" from the dwarven king as he handed over the payment without hesitation.

Yet, the boots did not remain in the dwarven king's hands for long, as they quickly fell into your grasp as he thrust them into your arms.

"Hurry up." The command left his thin lips in a low tone as the heat of his gaze examined your body from head to toe. "We need to find a tailor; you're practically in rags." The words became distant, accompanied by the tap of his boots against the creaking wooden dock. A creaking almost as hard as when the frame of your bed shakes as he pleasures you.

The sharp thump of the bedframe bouncing against the wall danced throughout the air, accompanied by the melody of your moans as the dwarven king continued to drive his hips into yours. Each inch of his hardness pounded into you, the squelching click of skin slapping against one another growing as loud in the air as the bedframe against the wall.

His hands would tightly grasp upon your legs, your legs spread upon his shoulders, new boots upon your feet as they bounced slightly against his back with every hard thrust of the king's hips. His gaze upon you would be lustful as a smirk spread upon his thin lips.

"That's it." He'd breathe, his breath caressing your face as he leaned down, pushing you further into the bed and pushing further into you, allowing every inch of his cock to have a chance inside of you before sliding out. "Give me every inch of you. Show me why I spoil you." He'd purr, lips hovering a breath above yours as his eyes remained locked onto yours. 

His harsh gaze would urge you further into submission, to give into the hardness of his thrusts and the hardness of his cock.

A hardness that left you utterly entranced: how it stretched your inner walls perfectly, carving itself deep into your center as the rhythmic pulsations of his lust lulled you closer to the brink of release. 

The dwarven king was far harder in many ways compared to your past lovers, yet it was a hardness you craved. 

──────

- fili

Better. The terms of your love life had always been lackluster. The lovers of your past rarely managed to wow you, and upon the rare occasion that they managed to, it always appeared to come with��terms and conditions.

It never felt as if you were the priority, yet you sat idly by for many years as you patiently awaited with the hope that a lover would make you feel special, wanted, and better than any had before. And, as if an answer to your nights of blandness, Fili came into your life.

And he was better.

The moment you had met, the golden-haired prince had whisked you off your feet. It was not through his title, nor was it through lavish gifts or promises that would be broken, no. He listened.

You had been enthusiastically speaking of a weapon you had found upon your travels, going into depths about the elaborate carvings upon it and what origins you had suspected it to be. You had been raving about this weapon for many paths now, excitedly showing whoever would listen.

"And, best of all, I haven't needed to--" The words had stalled in your mouth as you noticed how the dwarven company rolled their eyes at your rambling. A heat began to spread beneath the flesh of your face as your lips shut suddenly, and the warmth of embarrassment began to spread from the center of your chest as your gaze fell.

"Haven't needed to what?" A familiar voice had spoken, one deep and full of warmth. "I am listening. And I would like to see this magnificent weapon." The golden-haired prince spoke, a smile upon his thin lips as your gaze lifted from the ground and onto him.

The warmth within your chest had quickly eased from the uncomfortable sensation it felt moments prior, as the speed at which your heart raced now turned to various fluttering as your gemstone-colored eyes locked with his ocean-colored pair.

You had felt the harshness of his calloused palm upon the back of your hand, gently rotating your hand to fit into his before he applied a soft pressure upon it, a reassuring squeeze as the smile upon his thin lips softened.

"Go on." A phrase the golden-haired prince had used for various events. The most frequent was not in comfort, though it always made you feel better when he spoke it while he was deep inside you.

The thickness of his manhood would stretch out your inner walls, expanding them to mold perfectly around his throbbing cock, feeling the pulsation of his heartbeat, his arousal, within one of the most sensitive parts of him.

His thrusts would be deep and slow, allowing you to feel every inch of his throbbing length as his eyes scanned your face. It was as if you were a novel, and he was reading you, jotting down mental notes of what made you gasp in pleasure and what made you hiss in pain.

The bed would creak rhythmically, the headboard hitting against the wall, creating a beat that danced alongside the melody of your moans.

"That's it." His tone would be full of praise as he stroked your cheek; the sensation of his calloused thumb brushing against the flesh of your cheek would send a wave of pleasure down your body. "Let me hear how good it feels." The heat of his breath caresses your face as he leans closer to you, causing his thrusts to deepen as he does so: ensuring his cock reaches the most sensitive and pleasurable spots within your core.

That was what you adored about Fili; it wasn't only his pleasure he did this for, but your pleasure as well.

Your lips would entwine with his, your moans muffled against his thin lips as he continued the same pleasurable pace. The faint taste of ale lingered upon his lips, becoming more apparent as you parted your lips, giving his tongue access to yours.

Tongues entwined in a sloppy dance, breaths becoming uneven and deepened until you both parted. Lungs expanded vastly as the pair of you gasped for air, a string of saliva connecting your lips as your gazes met.

"I love every sound you make, every noise that escapes your beautiful lips." Fili would breathe, his lips curved into a lopsided grin as his hips continued to jut against yours, ensuring that the familiar tingle of pleasure would roam throughout your body before he would even recognize the knot within his abdomen. That your hands would grasp at the sheets of the bed, or your nails would claw down his toned back before he would allow his grip to tighten upon the flesh of your hips. 

That your lips would be stuck open as a slew of moans fell from them before he uttered a single curse of pleasure. That the sweet nectar of your being would cascade upon your skin before he allowed his seed to paint your sensitive inner walls, or allow it to coat the flesh of your abdomen.

He cared for your pleasure as much as he cared for you. He was simply better.

──────

- kili

Faster. The speed at which your love life progressed had always been slow. The lovers of your past seemed to enjoy silly games instead of commitment, and for the rare few who desired something more -- they seemed to move even slower.

It felt drawn out. It felt as if your previous lovers had held a meeting on how to waste your time, yet you held onto faith that you would find a lover who wanted to belong to you as much as you wished to belong to them.

And though your heart had yearned for a faster pace in terms of romance, you were not prepared for the fast dwarven prince.

The night air nipped at the flesh of your skin, and the soft crackling of the campfire danced alongside the sounds of the woods and your dwarven companions. Some of your companions were off eating their stew, a mix of mushrooms and other things they had managed to forage within the woods, though you'd never question where they found the meat or spices that went into it.

The low chatter of their voices nearly muffled the gentle sounds of the fire; the soft sway of its light and warmth reminded you of its presence as your gaze remained glued to the stars above. It was a brief moment of peace within the sea of chaos that had become your life, and though you had lost the comforts of home, the dwarven prince who sat beside you had found those comforts within you.

The sound of your voice, the scent of your skin, the light that shimmered within your eyes; you became his home on the road. Yet, he had been too nervous to say anything until that night.

Either overcome with confidence or immense stupidity, the dwarven prince could not help but blurt out the three words that had been swirling around his mind since the moment he laid eyes upon you.

"I love you." His voice echoed throughout the makeshift campsite, his amber gaze glued upon your face, and a sea of laughter erupted from his fellow companions. The heat of his cheeks burned as bright as the fire before him, yet he did not back down as your sparkling gaze met his. "Y/N, I love you." He repeated, his confident voice wavering as the words left his lips. A wavering you would hear in far more intimate events.

The rapid thumps of the bedframe bouncing against the wooden wall echoed throughout the not-so-silent room. The sounds of the bed were so close together in pace that a thump barely had enough time to become an audible sound before another came in its place, masking the previous one as fast as it was made.

His cock raced within you, desperately stretching out the inner walls of your core, as his face was buried within the crook of your neck. The heat of his short, quick breaths tickled the side of your neck as he inhaled your scent.

"So good." The words wavered in pleasure upon his lips, hanging upon the tip of his tongue before escaping in more of a whimper than a moan. "You feel so good." His words would become a full whine of pleasure as he held onto you.

His hands would be tightly clenching at your arms, grasping so tightly that his nails would begin to dig into your skin. A delicious twinge of pain and pleasure flooded your sensations as his cock would continue to rapidly carve itself deep inside you.

His breaths would come out as quickly as his movements, each harsh thrust a silent devotion of his love, his neediness for you. His head would remain buried in the crook of your neck, allowing his whimpers to vibrate against the exposed skin as the burn within his hips grew hotter.

His body moved like a well-oiled machine, never ceasing in action as it brought you closer and closer to the brink of release. And as fast as you were thrown overboard, drowning in the sea of pleasure, the dwarven prince dived in after you.

He was far faster than your exes, yet he always ensured you came first in all scenarios.

──────

Want to read one part at a time? Read separately on AO3

Thorin, Fili, Kili

Want to read it as a book? Read separately on Wattpad

Thorin, Fili, Kili

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[faeriichaii]

hii!!

i was wondering if you could write kili x gn!reader where the reader wants to braid kili’s hair and they have no idea what that means to dwarves and kili lets them braid his hair. later the other dwarves notice and tease kili about it cause he’s clearly in love with the reader.

thank you sm<33

Braiding Lessons ~ Kili x Reader

A/N: Omg Kili request!!! I love him and I am such a sucker for this plot!! so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do omg!! Also funfact but I almost deleted everything that I wrote during my roadtrip cause I was so unsatisfied with it ;-; Which is probably why it took me so long to actually publish it yikes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.0k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (Thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋAmrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You always knew dwarves had various beautiful braids, but how come Kili doesn't? So one night you decide to change that and help him out.

You tilted your head to the side, as you let your eyes skim over the various dwarves, whom you were accompanying on their journey. Being the only human, surrounded by one hobbit and several dwarves definitely let you notice a few differences about their culture to your own. For example, they could eat almost double their size almost as if they have two stomachs. They also tend to not care much about their appearance. Except of course their beards and hair in general. They take care of it almost as if their life depended on it. One detail that definitely stood out to you were the different braids that decorated each of them. You remember once staring at Fili, while he undid his small beard braids just to redo them.

“How come dwarves always have braids in their hair?” You once asked him. He smiled at you and continued weaving his fingers through his hair. “Braids are very important to us dwarves. Which is why we rarely let others touch our hair.”

Ever since that day you have noticed the intriguing designs and ways each of the dwarves intertwined their strands. Except for one. Kili was the only dwarf who seemed to be lacking any kind of braid and you have been wondering why that is. You also once asked Fili about it but he wouldn’t answer you. Maybe he doesn’t know how to braid? And he is too embarrassed to ask others for help? Observing Kili, who was laughing along his brother to some jokes, you quickly let that thought settle in your mind. He doesn’t know how to braid and you were determined to change that.

So later that afternoon you bribed Fili to change his night shift with yours (which cost you a few of your travel snacks), in order to spend some time with Kili. You wanted to teach him how to braid and due to the fact that it is quite a sensitive topic to dwarves you wanted to make sure that nobody else would notice the two of you. So as soon as the sun set and the snores of your companions filled your ears, you made your way to Kili. He was perched upon a log which was behind the campfire that slowly burned down. His hands were carefully crafting something delicate, which you didn’t quite see in the dark. “What are you working on?” You asked him, taking a seat beside him. His gaze swerved from the item between his fingers to you. A smile graced his lips.

“It’s a surprise.” He quickly put the item into a small pouch that was secured to his pants. “I thought Fili was supposed to be my night-watch-partner?” “He was but I wanted to switch with him.” A smirk formed on his lips, before he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case I will make sure that this will be the best night of your life.” Blushing at the double meaning behind his words, you tried to separate your body from his. Of course, not because you didn’t enjoy him being so close to you, but because you were in desperate need of some cold air to cool you down and sort through your thoughts.

“I just wanted to ask you if I could braid your hair.” A dumbfounded expression accompanied by a gentle blush fell over his face. “I know you probably were just embarrassed to ask any of the others for help when it comes to braiding your hair and knowing that you don’t know how to I just-“ His laugh interrupted your rambling. “You think I can’t braid my hair?” You nod. “(Y/N), that is one thing we dwarves get born with. No dwarf in this world knows how not to braid hair.” “But why do you never braid yours? Fili told me they were incredibly sacred and important in your culture.” A blush dusted his cheeks as he stared into the campfire.

“Simple. Nobody has asked to braid my hair before.” Your hand moved to his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “But I just asked to braid your hair. So please, let me take care of you.” He smiled at you and moved one leg over the log so his whole body was facing yours. You let your fingers comb through his soft hair a few times, before taking a strand and dividing it into three sections. Weaving your fingers through the wafts, you made sure to be gentle while also ensuring that there won’t be any bumps or strands sticking out of your small braid. After you have reached the end of his hair, you took out one of your slim leather straps and tied it at the end. Your gaze wandered from the braid to Kilis eyes and you realized how close the two of you have been this whole time. “Thank you Amrâlimé. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You let your gaze wander to your hands in your lap while a shy smile graced your face. “Of course. I am glad you like it.” Kili put his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. A bright smile framed his face. “Now it is your turn.”

The next morning the company as well as you quickly packed up their belongings to get back on their journey. While talking with Balin about some of the dwarvens history, you suddenly heard a gasp from behind you. “You never told me about this Kili!” Fili held up a braid between them both. “When did this happen?” “Last night while you-“ “What is going on back there?” Thorin asked, slowly approaching the princes. “Kili finally got his braid! Probably by someone he seems enamoured with.” Fili teases, while letting go of his brother’s hair. A blush dusted Kilis cheeks, as well as your own as the words settled in.

“Was about time they tied the knot.” Dwalin let out a boisterous laugh at Balins words. Tilting your head to the side, you moved your attention to Kili. “What does he mean by that?” “(Y/N) doesn’t even know? You didn’t even explain it?” Fili asked, flabbergasted at the newfound information. “I hadn’t had the time yet.” Kili turned towards you and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “But I will explain it to you when the time is right.” His radiant smile was enough reassurance for you. You will wait, until he is ready to explain the meaning behind the dwarvish braiding custom.

[socksracoon10]

Being an Elf and falling in love with Thorin

Headcanons below the cut!

When Gandalf had first summoned you, it wasn't a very easy decision to make.

Being a Sindar elf yourself, the choice of having to derail from your own beliefs bruised your ego... especially since you were entrusted with overseeing Thorin and his company.

"My dear (Y/N)," Gandalf sighed, "I can not trust any other elf with such an arduous task. I know you are capable of setting aside your prejudices and aiding these dwarves."

"You saved my life once from the Uruk-hais. I am indebted to you for that, Gandalf. But I believe that this will be the one time I shall repay you for your kindness in this manner. Do not expect more from me." You muttered with a bitter tone.

"I do not plan on it." Gandalf reassured you.

When you first met the company under Bilbo's roof, there was silence. An eerie amount of silence.

The hobbit before you seemed enchanted by your presence.

You learned his name was Bilbo; he was the most sensible out of the bunch at the moment.

Your eyes traveled across the room and landed on Thorin, who had a nasty scowl on his face.

He wasn't expecting you to actually show up. He had hoped that for once that elvish pride would've saved him from having to face another individual of the same kind that had betrayed him years ago.

The silence continued, and you made your presence known. You were here to help the dwarves, nothing more and nothing less. You would accompany them to The Misty Mountains, but you would not step foot into their sacred lair. Not out of respect, but out of the sheer disgust you had for the dwarves.

Not even Eru could force you to enter their dwelling; it seemed as if death was the better option.

The journey there was not an easy one.

And Thorin didn't make it any easier.

He'd pass sly remarks every so often about you, try to demean you in front of everyone. He was constantly fighting a battle to ensure that you were beneath him in every aspect, despite being one of the most skilled elves to traverse Middle-Earth.

"Ah, it's best not to anger (Y/N), Thorin," Gandalf would quip from the background, wanting to ease the tension.

It did nothing.

There was an instance where you had left the group to gain more ground and a safer pathway for the dwarves through the forests.

Yeah, biggest mistake ever and Thorin wouldn't stop nagging you about it.

Those stupid trolls had gotten to them and Bilbo had managed to stall them long enough before Gandalf used the sunlight as a weapon.

"I left for one day... forgive me, I was merely trying to secure a safe path," You hissed at Thorin as he shoved past you.

"A safe path will only do if the company itself is safe first, elf," He spat, glancing over his shoulder. You so desperately wanted to spear your blade through his heart.

The rest of the trip resumed its unsteady silence. You glared at the other dwarves, not wishing to say anything to them. Occasionally, you'd offer a helping hand to Bilbo.

That didn't go unnoticed by Thorin. He didn't really like Bilbo as much, but compared to you? Bilbo was far better, and the stupid burglar was mingling with the wrong person.

However, his concerns of Bilbo shifted to his two nephews - Fili and Kili.

While they still harbored some resentment towards you for being a Sindar Elf, they were still young. They were naive, they did not experience that devastating day when Thranduil's forces abandoned Thorin's desperate cries for help.

And so what did they do?

They talked. Talked, and talked. Especially, Kili. Fili would add a joke once or twice, but if he ever caught Thorin's watchful eye, he'd gulp his words and nudge Kili to quit.

And then slowly, one by one... the dwarves were opening up to you.

Balin was more sympathetic, he was a very kind and wise dwarf. You actually enjoyed his presence.

Bofur was a bit reluctant to talk to you at first, but slowly came around. You noticed this when he asked you if you needed more food on your plate when you were dining in Rivendell. That was enough to tell you that perhaps there could be friendships between the dwarves and the elves.

You saved their asses a couple times, especially with the Goblins. Killed some orcs led by Azog. And then watched Azog brutally wound Thorin.

And then something switched in you. For a moment, you felt your breath hitch at the sight of him, dazed and unconscious. Something began to stir inside of you, and you couldn't place your finger on it. It almost felt... unworldly.

And that feeling continued... even when you ended up facing Thranduil, who was so puzzled at the fact that one of his own kind was helping those dwarves...

"I am repaying a debt that I owe to Gandalf," You explained, your head jutted up high into the air.

"What a terrible way to repay it, (Y/N)." Thranduil grimaced, "If you wanted an opportunity to keep yourself occupied, you could've turned to Legolas and he would've found you a wonderful position among my kingdom. We could use elves such as yourself, you know."

"Ah, but I could not say the same for you," You bit back, noticing the way his eyes widened at your audacity.

Word of your defiance quickly spread to the dwarves as the elves guarding them gossiped about it with such eager interest.

It fell onto Thorin's ears.

He almost thought they were lying to him. He couldn't believe it.

And as you passed Thorin's cell to enter your own, much farther away from the dwarves, you noticed something different about him.

He was smiling at you, a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed... proud? Ecstatic?

When the company and you had escaped via the barrels, you had almost hit a rock down the river. It was surreal to see the way Thorin's hands stretched out to warn you.

It seemed as if he cared.

You took a daring risk to climb off the barrel to kill some orcs, almost slipping across the branch in the process as you jumped back into your barrel.

"Be careful, elf!" Thorin cried out, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"And what does it matter to you?" You snapped, furrowing your brows.

He did not respond.

He did not need to.

Because you sort of knew the answer by the way he glanced back at you with a soft smile.

You mattered to him.

More than reclaiming the Mountains? The answer was obviously no.

But when you climbed up and watched him excitedly open the hidden entrance to the inside of the Lonely Mountains, his eyes flashed towards you for a split second.

As if he was waiting to see your reaction as well.

And when you gave in and smiled.

With or without the gold, the Arkenstone or the throne,

He felt as if he was the richest dwarf to ever live.

You mattered to him.

He mattered to you.

And thus began, the love between an elf and a dwarf.

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Masterlist/Overview

Hey guys! I'm going to be attempting to participate in Whumptober this year (though admittedly I did kind of mash together a few different prompt lists). I have about 20 days planned out right now, and I really hope to get through them, but no guarantees unfortunately, because I do have other stuff going on in my life. Also most of these are in fact just going to be hurt/comfort because I am a weak man. Also yes I am aware that the variation in these characters is kind of insane, don't come at me.

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Day One - Survivors Guilt/"It's not your fault." - Robert 'Bob' Floyd - An accident during a training hop leaves your WSO badly injured, and you can't help but blame yourself. Bob makes it his mission to convince you otherwise.

Day Two - Migraines - Darry Curtis - Juggling a migraine and the Curtis gang is not the easiest thing in the world. Luckily, Darry is there to come to your rescue and tell the others off

Day Three - Overstimulation - Diego Hargreeves - (1960s, autistic Reader) - Between the prison break, Diego's strange brother, and home movie footage showing the assassination of the president, your not sure how much more you can take.

Day Four- Field medicine/"Hang on, we're going to have to improvise." - Fili - Even with the battle beginning to turn in your favor, there are still many losses to come, no matter how hard you work to prevent them.

Day Five - "You don't need to earn this." - Tommy Shelby - When your surprises and gentle treatment catch Tommy by surprise, he questions what he'd done to deserve it.

Day Six - Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that." - Alfie Solomons - (War Era, Male Reader) - A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no mans land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

Day Seven - Needles/Stitching - John Shelby - After being sent on another needless errand by his brother, John returns late, exhausted and bloody.

Day Eight - Panic Attack - Aaron Hotchner - When a case that hits too close to home has too many missing pieces, and seemingly no end, you can't help but fall prey to a growing sense of panic.

Day Nine - Falling Asleep in a hospital room - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw - When a training incident gone wrong lands Bradley in the hospital, you take it upon yourself to stay with him.

Day Ten - "Shhh, I've got you now, I'm here." - Alfie Solomons - Sabini's men kidnap you in a desperate attempt to get a leg up on your husband. When Alfie finds out, he's ready to burn the world down to get to you.

Day Eleven - Chronic pain - Boromir - The first day of a cold spell causes your pain to flare up, but you're determined to grit your teeth through the pain. Boromir however, is determined to get you to rest.

Days Twelve - Fourteen Break Days

Day Fifteen - Hiding an Injury - Aragorn - Somewhere in the thicket of Helms Deep, you're injured, but in the chaos that follows, doing anything about it seems to slip your mind.

Day Sixteen - "I did good, right?" - Umbrella Academy Unit - A mission gone wrong forces you to over use your powers, pushing you too far.

Day Seventeen - Bleeding Through Bandages - Kili - After being injured in escaping the Orcs, Oin does his best to heal you, but miles down the road, it doesn't seem to be enough.

Day Eighteen - Nightmare - Alfie Solomons - Night after night, you are plagued with nightmares, and Alfie seems to be the only thing that can cure them.

Day Nineteen - Scars - Diego Hargreeves - While patching Diego up after a fight, you see his scars for the first time.

Day Twenty - "Who did this to you?" - Dallas Winston - You get jumped, Dally plots revenge.

Day Twenty One - "You haven't done anything wrong." - Aaron Hotchner - (Autistic reader) - After a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed and unsure. Luckily Aaron is there to help you calm down, no matter how much you protest.

Day Twenty Two - Chronic Pain (again) - Alife Solomons - Getting Alfie to take a day off when his sciatica is bothering him is a full time job.

Day Twenty Three - Exhaustion - Darry Curtis - Darry has been working himself to the utter bone. You take it upon yourself to make him rest.

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These might not get posted consecutively, but I'll do my best.

[basil--and--sage]

Fíli is the kind of person, who when woken up by a crash at 3 AM and coming upon a raccoon, that fell through the ceiling and is actively rampaging his apartment, will softly sigh "aww man", before putting on a bike helmet and oven mitts and getting a broom to gently herd it out of the door, while Kíli goes apeshit in the background and stands on a chair and shrieks.

[doberbutts]

I’m wondering if you have thoughts on James Baldwin’s “open letter to the born again”? I’m struggling a bit with what his point is in that piece; it feels kinda dismissive on Jewish zionists agency in creation of Israel? But I may be missing parts or not getting things

The text in question.

And the segment I think anon is struggling with:

I know what I am talking about: my grandfather never got the promised “forty acres, and a mule,” the Indians who survived that holocaust are either on reservations or dying in the streets, and not a single treaty between the United States and the Indian was ever honored. That is quite a record.

Jews and Palestinians know of broken promises. From the time of the Balfour Declaration (during World War I) Palestine was under five British mandates, and England promised the land back and forth to the Arabs or the Jews, depending on which horse seemed to be in the lead. The Zionists—as distinguished from the people known as Jews—using, as someone put it, the “available political machinery,’’ i.e., colonialism, e.g., the British Empire—promised the British that, if the territory were given to them, the British Empire would be safe forever.

But absolutely no one cared about the Jews, and it is worth observing that non-Jewish Zionists are very frequently anti-Semitic. The white Americans responsible for sending black slaves to Liberia (where they are still slaving for the Firestone Rubber Plantation) did not do this to set them free. They despised them, and they wanted to get rid of them. Lincoln’s intention was not to “free” the slaves but to “destabilize” the Confederate Government by giving their slaves reason to “defect.” The Emancipation Proclamation freed, precisely, those slaves who were not under the authority of the President of what could not yet be insured as a Union.

It has always astounded me that no one appears to be able to make the connection between Franco’s Spain, for example, and the Spanish Inquisition; the role of the Christian church or—to be brutally precise, the Catholic Church—in the history of Europe, and the fate of the Jews; and the role of the Jews in Christendom and the discovery of America. For the discovery of America coincided with the Inquisition, and the expulsion of the Jews from Spain. Does no one see the connection between The Merchant of Venice and The Pawnbroker? In both of these works, as though no time had passed, the Jew is portrayed as doing the Christian’s usurious dirty work. The first white man I ever saw was the Jewish manager who arrived to collect the rent, and he collected the rent because he did not own the building. I never, in fact, saw any of the people who owned any of the buildings in which we scrubbed and suffered for so long, until I was a grown man and famous. None of them were Jews.

And I was not stupid: the grocer and the druggist were Jews, for example, and they were very very nice to me, and to us. The cops were white. The city was white. The threat was white, and God was white, Not for even a single split second in my life did the despicable, utterly cowardly accusation that “the Jews killed Christ’’ reverberate. I knew a murderer when I saw one, and the people who were trying to kilI me were not Jews.

But the state of Israel was not created for the salvation of the Jews; it was created for the salvation of the Western interests. This is what is becoming clear (I must say that it was always clear to me). The Palestinians have been paying for the British colonial policy of “divide and rule” and for Europe’s guilty Christian conscience for more than thirty years.

Finally: there is absolutely—repeat: absolutely—no hope of establishing peace in what Europe so arrogantly calls the Middle East (how in the world would Europe know? having so dismally failed to find a passage to India) without dealing with the Palestinians. The collapse of the Shah of Iran not only revealed the depth of the pious Carter’s concern for “human rights,” it also revealed who supplied oil to Israel, and to whom Israel supplied arms. It happened to be, to spell it out, white South Africa.

Well. The Jew, in America, is a white man. He has to be, since I am a black man, and, as he supposes, his only protection against the fate which drove him to America. But he is still doing the Christian’s dirty work, and black men know it.

My friend, Mr. Andrew Young, out of tremendous love and courage, and with a silent, irreproachable, indescribable nobility, has attempted to ward off a holocaust, and I proclaim him a hero, betrayed by cowards.

For context: Andrew Young, considered the right hand of MLK Jr, had a longstanding and occasionally fraught relationship with the Jewish community. He stepped down from Congress shortly after being forced to choose between voicing support for Palestine and continuing to work towards black-jewish interests by his constituents and fellow politicians, as he felt very strongly about supporting both. This was a fairly unpopular move. While I don't believe he ever called himself Jewish by the strictest sense, he was actively involved in Jewish communities and the known "white" ancestry within him is a Polish Jew in his great grandparents.

To be honest, I don't really see much a problem with this as I think it fairly closely matches up not only with my understanding of the history of this problem but also my own country's part in it as well as my personal feelings on it decades later. It pretty blatantly says that Zionism is utilizing a machination of white supremist colonism due to the extensive history of antisemitism and having had the ancestral land dangled in front of them like bait on a hook from the British Empire, which owned Palestine at the time. It also goes on to say that many Zionists aren't even Jewish and are antisemitic in nature, but are Christians happy to get rid of as many Jews as possible and how that tracks due to the Christian church's millennia-deep history of antisemitism.

I don't think it lets anyone off the hook. I think it pretty much flat out says this is a problem caused first and foremost by white Christians who hate Jews and Arabs alike and have a vested interest in getting the two populations to fight because it'll be easier to kill off just the one group instead of both of them, if one ends up eradicating the other. It even talks about the friction between the black community and the Jewish community, what caused it, what drives it, how that friction in itself is a tool of white supremacy to hurt us both.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

The Wandering Widow

Chapter 12

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: while recovering from the close call with Azog, you and the rest of the company seek shelter in a nearby tavern. unfortunately, it happens to be a tavern you have a lot of history with. will your traveling companions discover the connection between you and the seedy tavern?

Warnings: no use of y/n, angst, 18+, NSFW, minors do not interact, attempted fingering, brief descriptions of bloody wounds/injuries

Author's Note: This one ended up being a looong chapter but the next few installments include scenes I've been excited about writing for a while😊 I've already started writing the next one so hopefully it shouldn't take too long to post! Thank you so much to everyone who has already shown so much support to the previous chapters. It really makes my day getting to read all of your sweet comments😘

Word count: 3473

You’re vaguely aware of the sun shining down on your face, warming your skin. You squint at the bright light before the sun is blocked out by a shadowy form standing over you. It calls out your name and you groan in response.

“Am I dead?” you ask and the shadow laughs. “Not for lack of trying,” Kili says and you peel an eye open to squint at him.

“Thorin?” Kili nods to where the others are sitting a few feet away from you. You turn your head to see Gandalf crouching over a still-unconscious Thorin. Before you can start to panic, the wizard waves a hand over his face and Thorin jolts awake. He calls out your name hoarsely and Gandalf motions to where you still lay.

“Don’t worry,” he assures him, “she’s just fine.”

Dwalin and Gandalf help him to his feet and Kili brings a gentle hand to your back as you sit up.

Shaking off the help, Thorin takes a few steps closer, towering over you. He extends a hand out, and while you would normally wave it off, this time you let yourself take it. Sliding your hand into his you let him pull you to your feet until you’re standing face to face.

He takes a step back, keeping his hand intertwined in yours as he looks you over head to toe.

Your head is still throbbing from where you were knocked to the ground. Thorin’s gaze falls on the wound, his eyes widening in concern.

“I’m fine,” you assure him before he can overreact. Especially considering he’s in much worse shape than you are.

“You could have died,” he whispers hoarsely, brows furrowing in concern.

“Well you made almost getting killed by an orc look like so much fun,” you shrug, “I thought I’d join you.”

He shakes his head with a sigh, clearly satisfied you can’t be too badly injured if your sense of humor is still intact.

Reluctantly he drops your hand, stepping around you to address a relieved-looking hobbit.

“And you,” he snaps, “what were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!”

Bilbo blinks in shock. “Did I not say that you would be a burden?” he continues, stalking closer to the hobbit. “That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us?”

Bilbo drops his gaze sadly and you’re about to give Thorin another head injury when he continues.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life,” Thorin sighs, enveloping the hobbit in a warm embrace.

“You saved my life, you saved her life,” he gestures to you with a rare smile.

“But I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, I would have doubted me too,” Bilbo assures him. “I’m not a hero or a warrior. Not even a burglar.”

You laugh and step forward to give the hobbit’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as the eagles fly off overhead with the sunrise.

Thorin suddenly goes still beside you. You follow his gaze over Bilbo’s shoulder and gasp.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo asks as you all walk closer to the edge of the cliff. Gazing in awe at the single solitary peak sitting on the horizon.

“Erebor,” Gandalf confirms. “The lonely mountain, the last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.”

“Our home,” Thorin smiles and looks over at you, a warm feeling blooming in your chest as he interlaces your fingers with his again.

You don’t tear your gaze from his until a chirping noise catches your attention as a dark bird glides overhead, seemingly headed to the same place as the rest of you.

“A raven!” Oin exclaims. “The birds are returning to the mountain!"

“That my dear, Oin,” Gandalf corrects, “is a thrush.”

“But we’ll take it as a sign,” Thorin says from beside you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “A good omen.”

“You’re right,” Bilbo agrees, “ I do believe the worst is behind us.”

“I should hope so,” you sigh. “I for one don’t think I could stomach seeing one more orc until I’ve gotten at least a few ales in me.”

“We should find lodging in a tavern tonight,” Thorin agrees, “somewhere we can rest before continuing our journey.”

“Oh no!” you gasp turning to face him fully.

“Oin did you hear that?” you call out to the healer. “Thorin just agreed with me, it must be worse than we thought.”

The rest of the company chuckles as you all start to gather your things.

“I do believe The Wandering Widow is only a few miles from us,” Gandalf supplies. You freeze at the name, looking up to see the wizard giving you a mischievous grin.

Of course, you mutter to yourself, why wouldn’t Gandalf know your connection to that specific tavern?

You narrow your eyes at the wizard, daring him to reveal what he knows to the rest of the group. He just gives you a conspiratory wink and continues down the rocky path.

That wizard had better keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him.

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The tavern is exactly as you remember it.

It’s been a few years since you last set foot on the booze-soaked floorboards, but not a single thing has changed since then. The decor is exactly the same, with the smell of mead and stale smoke still lingering in the air.

Even after all this time, you know there’s still a chance that the staff will recognize you. So you elect to disappear among your kin, sticking close to the group with your hood pulled over your head and your gaze cast downwards.

Gandalf split off from the group upon your arrival, volunteering himself to haggle with the owner over reserving rooms for all of you.

“He’s been gone awhile,” Bilbo remarks from behind the large mug of ale set in front of him. He took all of one sip of the drink before trying to surreptitiously slide the drink further away from him without anyone noticing.

“I’ll go check on him,” Balin offers, sliding his chair back.

“No,” you stop him, “I’ll go, I could use another drink anyways,” you lie.

While it is true you’re not nearly as drunk as you’d like to be, you suspect you already know the reason for the delay.

You can feel Thorin’s eyes on the back of your head as you go, reluctantly pulling off your hood as you duck out of the room.

Your mood has noticeably shifted with the anxiety over returning to this tavern with the company in tow. Thorin made no mention of your change in mood during the journey here, but you know he's noticed by the way you keep catching him watching you with that concerned look in his eyes.

Thankfully he doesn’t bring it up. Either because he’s too relieved you’re both alive to pick a fight right now or because he can sense how badly you’d like to avoid this conversation with him right now.

You can hear the raised voices before you even push the door open.

Sure enough, the wizard is in a very heated argument with the tavern owner.

“Have you gone mad?! No establishment in all of Middle Earth would charge that much per night!”

“Well, good luck finding another establishment willing to accommodate that many dwarves at once.” Grumbles the red-faced proprietor. “1500 a night. Take it or leave it.”

“Bertram Blackwood,” you sigh dramatically from the doorway, “are you trying to take advantage of my friend here?”

Both of the men turn to look at you in surprise. Bertram whispers your name in surprise.

“As I live and breathe,” he chuckles dryly. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you anytime soon. Not since you disappeared like a thief in the night.”

“I didn’t actually steal anything,” you remind him, “I only took the money I was owed.”

“Took a lot more than that,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, “lost a lotta my regular customers when my headlining act up and left.”

“Yes I do recall hearing lots of complaints across the land when a famous tavern dancer suddenly stopped performing,” Gandalf chuckles.

How he was able to figure out that was you, is a mystery you aren’t prepared to solve right now.

“I’m afraid I was presented with an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. But that’s not important right now. Perhaps, you’d be willing to give my friends and me a discount? For old time's sake?”

You bat your eyelashes and try to give Bertram your most charming smile.

He just scoffs at your attempts. “If you want to bring ‘old times’ into it, it’s just gonna cost you more, girl.”

“We’ve been traveling for some time now, and many of us are injured,” Gandalf pleads, trying to appeal to his emotional side. You should have explained to the wizard that Bertram Blackwood has no emotions to appeal to.

“You think you’re the first to show up on my doorstep with some sob story? You don’t stay at The Wandering Widow for a vacation, you stay when everything else has gone to shit.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “What if we pay you the regular rate and…” you huff reluctantly, “I’ll put on an encore performance while we’re here.”

A triumphant smile creeps onto Bertram’s face and Gandalf raises a brow in surprise.

“But!” you stare them both down, “you both have to swear that you won’t breathe a word of this to the others. Especially, Thorin.”

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

After swearing them both to secrecy and paying for the rooms, you and Gandalf return to the others with arms full of ale.

“Everything alright?” Thorin asks the both of you as you slide another drink over to him.

“It is now,” you assure him, as you bring another mug to your lips.

“The owner was trying to overcharge us but we handled it. We’ll have several rooms for the next few nights.”

He nods tersely and goes to reach for the ale you set in front of him.

As soon as he lifts his arm he visibly flinches in discomfort, reminding you that hours ago a warg tried to turn him into a chew toy.

“Have you had Oin look at those bites yet?” you ask and he nods over to where Oin and several other dwarves are slumped against the table, surrounded by several empty tankards of ale. “Our healer seems otherwise engaged at the moment.”

“I can do it,” you offer, not wanting to see him pushing through the pain any longer.

He raises a brow, unsure about your healing abilities. And rightfully so after all your botched attempts to patch the both of you up as children when you were out getting into trouble.

“I can at least dress it for you,” you assure him, “so it doesn’t get infected. It’s not like I’m offering to perform surgery or anything.”

“As long as you promise not to use any sharp objects near me,” he grumbles, slowly rising from the table with a groan.

“I’m afraid I can make no such promises,” you sigh, leading him up the stairs to your rooms.

“As long as I don’t lose a limb I suppose you can’t make things worse,” you glare over your shoulder at him, and the small smirk he tries to hide as he climbs up the stairs behind you.

Reaching the end of the hallway, you push open the door to a spacious bedroom. Thorin closes the door behind you with a click as you shrug off your cloak.

It's only then that you realize what you’ve just volunteered yourself for. The two of you are now alone for the first time since… he convinced you to end your survival fast using sexual favors.

And if memory serves, the warg bit him around the midsection which means… “You’ll have to take off your shirt,” you instruct him, purposefully trying to avoid making eye contact.

Instead you busy yourself by digging through your discarded bag, searching for the tinctures and bandages you might need.

Taking a shaky breath you finally turn to face him, biting your bottom lip absentmindedly at the sight of him pulling his shirt overhead. His back is still to you and you let your eyes trace the corded muscles of his back.

You’re so lost in thought that you forget to avert your gaze as he turns to face you. He smirks when he catches you watching him. “See something you like?”

You roll your eyes, strolling closer to him with your arms full of medical supplies.

“Just sit down,” you grumble, tossing the items onto the bedside table before giving his shoulder a gentle shove until he sits down in front of you.

Your fingers absentmindedly run down his chest as you assess the wound at his midsection. Teeth marks line his abdomen in a semi-circle, still red and angry.

You bite down on your lip again, not expecting it to be this bad. It's a miracle he walked all the way down the mountain without showing any signs of distress. Whatever healing Gandalf used to bring him back to consciousness must have helped to keep the discomfort to a minimum.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” you mumble, walking across the room to dip a clean rag in the basin of hot water. If he hadn’t been wearing several heavy layers that warg would have bitten right through him.

“As are you,” he reminds you, wincing when you gently bring the damp rag to the edge of his wound. Bringing your free hand to his shoulder, you step closer to Thorin. Until you’re standing directly between his legs.

When you bring the rag back to the edge of the wound he tries to jerk away again. But this time you maintain a firm grasp on his shoulder to keep him in place.

He clenches his jaw and his hands snake up your thighs to rest on your hips. Fingers dig deeper into your flesh with every stroke of the cloth. His grip is so strong it should be painful, but instead you have to suppress a moan at the feeling of Thorin's fingers bruising your skin.

“I haven’t yelled at you yet,” he grinds out, trying to distract himself from the pain.

“You yelled at the hobbit,” you remind him, “isn’t that close enough?”

He lets out a weak laugh as you set the cloth down and pick up the tin of salve beside you.

“You jumped in first,” he grunts as your sticky fingertips brush against his skin. “He was just following your lead.”

“I suppose,” you hum absentmindedly.

“It was reckless,” he grumbles.

“Mmhmm,” you apply the rest of the salve to the wound.

“You almost died right in front of me,” he reminds you.

“I know, I was there,” you reach for the bandages, beginning to wrap his wound.

“I almost lost you,” he whispers, “I- you can’t do something that dangerous again.”

Your fingers go still on the bandages and you look up at his face.

“Why do you think I did it in the first place? Out of boredom? You were the one who ran head first into the jaws of a warg, did you think I was going to just sit back and watch you lose your head?”

“Is losing your own head any better?” he narrows his eyes at you.

“This is the part where you thank me for quite literally sticking my neck out for you.” You tie off the bandage at his midsection a little tighter than necessary before tossing the excess off to the side. “Is it really so hard to accept help when you need it Thorin?”

Crossing your arms over your chest you level a steely glare at him.

You expect him to return the look, but instead he just reaches for the discarded rag beside you. Brushing your hair out of your face, he lifts the rag up to your head. You try to jerk yourself away but his free hand is still at your hip and he holds you firmly in place.

“Is it really so hard to accept help when you need it?” he throws your words back at you and you relent with an irritated huff.

He gently wipes all the blood and dirt from your face. Removing all the evidence from your most recent brush with death. As if it will be enough to make either of you forget you almost died in each other's arms. The only time you want to be lying on top of Thorin like that is in a much different scenario.

A scenario you can't help but imagine, now that you're alone together again.

As Thorin focuses on cleaning your face, you focus on studying his. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he cleans the head wound.

Thorin stills when he catches you watching him, and you don’t bother to divert your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that, lass,” he growls in warning.

“Or what?” you tilt your head at him, the edges of your mouth quirking up into a smirk.

He remains still as a statue under your challenging gaze. You slowly glide your hands up his bare chest, wrapping your arms around your neck. He growls your name under his breath, nostrils flaring as he tries to restrain himself from taking the bait.

You know it's probably not the best time for it. You’re both injured, and it’s been a very long day. But that only seems further reason for the two of you to release the tension on each other.

You lean forward to rest your forehead against his and he drops the cloth, encircling his arms around your waist.

“Can you tell me what you’re sitting on right now, my king?” you whisper.

“A bed,” he grumbles as you gently press your lips against his forehead.

“And do you recall what you said would happen the next time we came across a bed?” you pull back to look at his face and his eyes darken at the memory of the last time your limbs were entangled together like this.

“I only said I would fuck you in a bed,” he smirks up at you, “I didn’t say it would be the next one.”

“Suit yourself,” you sigh dramatically, “I’ll just have to ask someone else.” You go to pull away from him and with a low growl, he yanks you right back in until you’re practically in his lap. He releases a hand from your waist to grip your jaw, pulling your face down to his.

“There will be no one else,” he growls before crashing his lips against yours.

You moan against the kiss before bringing your hands up to his shoulders, giving him a gentle shove back onto the bed. You break your lips from his to crawl your way up his body. Careful to not jostle the wound at his abdomen.

You’re about to seat yourself on Thorin’s lap when he suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, flipping you both over so he is towering above you.

Burying his face in your hair, he slowly glides his tongue against the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Playfully biting at your skin you wrap your arms around his neck again, pulling him down closer to you with a deep moan.

Thorin's free hand brushes against your side, tracing the curves of your body all the way down to your ass. “Did you really think I would pass up an opportunity to have you all to myself?”

He snakes a hand down your trousers, cupping the heat between your legs. You tighten your arms around his neck, keeping your bodies glued together as he starts to tease your dripping entrance.

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “You’re all mine tonight,” he whispers before plunging a finger all the way inside of you.

You open your mouth in surprise, a cry of pleasure traveling up from your diaphragm. But before it can pass your lips you’re interrupted by the creak of the door swinging open.

You both jump at the intrusion, turning to see Kili and Fili standing frozen in the doorway with eyes wide. “Uhhh,” Kili’s jaw goes slack as he grips a bloodied rag in his hand. “Kili, uh, sliced his hand on a broken bottle,” Fili mumbles trying to look anywhere but at the two of you. “Balin said you were already patching up Thorin so we thought…”

With a heavy sigh, you let your head fall back against the pillow beneath you, looking up at Thorin. He narrows his eyes at you, subtly shaking his head.

“Come on in,” you grumble across the room, reluctantly pushing Thorin off of you.

Next

Taglist:

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@exhausted-humxn-being @marsmallow433 @sverdgeir

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@lyl1pad @bruhk @eri-s-big-sis

[recitedemise]

Interesting. Vengeance, the bristling of an unstemmed anger, strikes the wizard as almost entirely foreign. Oh, he'd his temper, of course, in such moments when insults were exponentially deserved, but to fill one's midnights with spite and murder? Well, he's learned he's more the wizard more deserving of such. Still, the sure heat of her anger pricks fiercely at his skin. He's long known such venom, the ice cold drag of such daggered spite, so he doesn't once buckle enduring her blistering fury. (The indifference, however? Say not a word.)

It's all of it endurable. All of it fine. It's a twinge baffling, of course, considering he'd all but offered some concern her way, but then this heat, her tempest, hasn't him at the center. He's keen enough to know that, noticing the color like a flame in her cheeks. It makes her brighter than usual, lends something both wicked and wild in the seat of her eyes. Rage, truly, enlivens her in ways like the spring to a field, but why wax poetic when the lion eyes you?

Pretentious little sage! A goddess' lamb. Killable.

"Neither do I. Don't allow me to impose on your much needed respite from my, well, particular torments," he starts. "Should you require it, however, I ask only that you journey down the hill by the river. The view you'll be treated to will be most spectacular. When speaking of respite, you'll find no place better." ...but that's hardly the point. Astarion saunters off, and Gale eyes her alone, singular, an immovable, insurmountable, and too stubborn mountain. She loathes him desperately, the reality of it stark as day. Yet, with the swell of her breaths weighed by those hints of despair— Well, Gale Dekarios, too, could not just leave. "Forgive me for saying so," he hedges, "but your 'candid' nature makes it abundantly plain where someone stands. That said, should a man measure beneath me, it wouldn't escape my notice, and this evening by the tollhouse, I believe some had."

Oh. "It leads me to wonder if you'd dealt with them."

Is this why you look so hollow, Laera?

When Laera looked at her hands, slick with blood, the image remained savagely carved onto her conscious. The act brings back old memories that resurface like each pained wound from the very knife she used to violently recapture her freedom. She doesn't feel like herself. A woman who tended to her rage, her grief and immeasurable sorrow, turned hard and callous, having kept it all alive in the mutterings of her deserved vengeance. Who is she now?

She is an empty, hollow version of that woman. The bore in her heart has left something behind that she struggles to understand, even through the haze of her grim thoughts. Even the particulars of how and when she made it back to camp elude her.

Her attention lie elsewhere, afraid of things that aren't there. Gale's approach makes her jump, and when his voice reaches her ears, it feels like she's listening to him from the deepest depths of the Dragonmere. Her thoughts spin, focusing less on his pointed insinuation, and more so on the possibility of blood marking her clothes. She washed several times; dousing herself in water until the spattering of warm blood sticking to her skin no longer bothered her.

❝ A night out of this bloody camp to get away from your pestering… I see nothing wrong with it, ❞ Her words are forceful, attempting to steer him away from a truth she hopes he cannot see. Dark eyes move toward Astarion, a quiet gesture that hints at his presence being more bothersome than helpful. No, she doesn't want Gale interrogating him, too. When he walks off with a cheeky goodbye, she immediately rounds on her companion. ❝ You're not being so subtle either, Gale. Say what you mean. ❞ Her words sound like a threat.

[prying-pandora666]

The Hobbit - Best Film Version

I am begging anyone who loves the cast from the Jackson films but couldn’t stand all the filler and excess CGI and pacing problems to please please PLEASE check out the M4 edit of The Hobbit.

It cuts all three films down into one far more coherent 4 hour movie (with an intermission if you’d rather watch it as two 2 hour movies) and even rescores, color corrects, and does CGI corrections of its own! It’s really a feat of a fan work!

It took me from not being able to stand those films to including this edit in my annual LOTR marathons!

It’s great if you like:

*Martin Freeman as Bilbo, Richard Armitage as Thorin, Ian McKellan as Gandalf etc

*If you want to see Elrond’s warmer and more playful side he didn’t get to show in LOTR

*Lee Pace tearing it up as Thranduil! As elegant as he is a sassy jerk.

*A more book accurate pacing without sacrificing the character moments between Bilbo and the people he meets

*The soundtrack!

And even better if you dislike:

*The love triangle with Legolas/Tauriel/Kili

*Weird references to Aragorn when he’s only suppose to be like 10 at this point

*The way the White Council stuff hurts the pacing and distracts from the central story

*The cartoony Legolas CGI scenes that look like a video game

*How dirty they did Radagast the brown

…and more! Whether you’re a book purist, or a rabid Bagginshield shipper, or just someone looking for a shorter, more coherent version of the tale - this is the one.

EDIT: There is now an Internet archive link.

[shirefantasies]

was thinking about thorins company again and was thinking about a request and my mind jumped to "I wonder how they'd react if reader called them petty." so that's my request. how thorins company would react if the reader told them they were pretty.

Posting back to back because I got asked the same prompt for both stories almost simultaneously hehe! Ok now THIS? This can go one of two ways either so fluffy or so funny 😆 I think it would be divided so:

"OMG you think I'm pretty?": Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili, Bilbo

"How DARE you I am NOT pretty what do I look like some sort of elf lassie FDGSHVDGSH": Dwalin, Gloin, Nori

*Deadpan voice* What.: Balin, Thorin, Oin, Bifur

Bofur, frankly, is just a bit shell-shocked, but not unpleasantly so; in fact his smile says otherwise. “Well, no one’s ever called me something like that’ before!” Bombur would blush bright red at your words and smile widely. “Me? Really? Coming from someone as pretty as you?” Dori puffs up a bit despite the incredulity upon his face. “I try my best. But really, it- it’s working? Well, I…I…” Ori’s all smiles, sheepishly glancing away from you. “Me? No, I quite think that’s you, actually. Why, if you saw yourself the way I do, you’d know exactly what I mean.” Fili winks at you and flips his hair off his shoulder. “Oh, you think so, do you? Because I’ve thought the same and then some. …huh? About me or you? Maybe both! Just kidding. You’re the only one who’s ever caught my eye.” Kili acts quite similar, throwing you a wink as well. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know that? Ever have I desired an excuse to tell you.” Bright red- that is the only way to describe Bilbo as well, adorable in his stammering. “Me? Well, I try to take my best care of myself, but I don’t know about…. You insist? All right, then I’ll take the compliment so long as I can pay you back with a few. No, no, too late, please listen, because I am quite certain the only pretty one here is you.”

Dwalin’s arms are crossed the moment the word leaves your lips. “You think I’ve gone to war, bloodied my axes and dirtied my nails, just for some young thing to call me pretty?” He scoffs, but you make out the flush upon his cheeks and simply smile, shaking your head with amusement. Gloin is indignant, all but shouting that he hasn’t grown pointy ears or lost his beard, so don’t go acting like he’s one of those elves you can’t even tell maids from lords. “Oh, all right,” you tease, “what do you prefer then? Strapping? Handsome?” That shuts him right up. “What are you on about,” Nori asks you, “eh? Trying to charm something from me? I’ll have you know I’m not some tittering elf maid. You’ll have to try harder than that.” By harder than that, he evidently means the way you grab him by the collar, causing him to cave to your wishes immediately.

Balin freezes at your compliment, tilts his head. His brown eyes search yours. “I beg your pardon?” “You heard me.” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Haven’t heard anything like that in a long time.” Deadpan describes both Thorin’s voice and expression as he seeks repetition of your statement. “Surely you have been told you cut a majestic figure before?” “Why are you telling me this?” The king responds. “Why do you think?” You shoot back, shaking your head. When the compliment leaves your lips, you can tell Oin is unsure if he heard you correctly; stepping closer, you repeat it breathily, a smile on your lips. “You mean I did- We-he-ell then!” He grins at you. Bifur peers blankly at you. “Yes, you,” you repeat, “need I describe the lovely pattern of your hair, your smile, your little creations you share with me or the way you…” Shaking his head, Bifur smiles and takes your hand.

Rest of the Taglist 😉: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[cowboybeepboop]

The only one

“Kili, you can’t tell anyone about this.” “So it’s our dirty little secret then?”

Paring: Kili Durin x afab reader

Genre: romantic smut

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: You’re Bilbo's adopted human daughter and he takes you along on the journey. Kili has his heart set on you and after getting involved in the fight he gets angry with you for putting yourself in a dangerous situation.

Warnings: public sex, arguing, jealous Kili, hickeys, p in v sex, hickeys??? Idk what else I always forget

a/n: I did not proofread and its lowkey a summary of the first movie? This is my first smut regarding anyone in the tolkien universe but I did write some sad fluff at some point lmao. Anyways, please like and send any requests if you want <3 tags go absolutely wild

You’ve been an adopted hobbit for the last 18 years of your life, Bilbo was always comforted in the known so when he brought you along with him and the dwarfs on their journey you were beyond surprised. Your presence was unexpected for everyone, except Gandalf of course, and most of the company was against your involvement. The dwarves saw you as frail and weak, the only one on your side was your dad, but of course he was.

Kili has kept an eye out for you since you joined the company, he makes sure you're safe and also just enjoys looking at you.

__________

When Elrond and his fellow elves come back the dwarves pull you and your father behind them and create a circle around you. You stay behind your Bilbo as the elves talk with Gandalf.

Upon your entrance to their dining room you look around with wonder, you sit down between Kili and your dad. “They're so beautiful,” you whisper to Bilbo, he nods with a gentle but awkward smile. Kili’s ears twitch as he looks around, his eyes narrow on an elf who has his eyes on you, he moves closer to you wrapping his arm around you.

“You think so?” Kili questions, his jaw clenching slightly, “I think us dwarves are better looking, stronger too.” he says pridefully, you chuckle in response.

“Is it a competition now?” you cock your head, “You’re very good looking too, Kili.” he smiles wide.

“Is that so? I am the best looking of all of the company, aside from Thorin of course.” you laugh, putting your hand on his arm.

“A bit full of yourself huh?” he shoves your shoulder gently in response. Kilis arms finds its way around your waist as he continues to glare at the elf who dared to look at you, who did he even think he was.

Gandalf, Bilbo, and Thorin wander off with Lord Elrond, leaving you with the dwarfs. You watch quietly, laughing with them and listening to their conversations before you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. Kili quietly sits next to you letting your head fall to his shoulder he smiles, covering you up with a blanket.

__________

After the company left the palace Thorin led everyone to the Misty Mountains, Kili keeps you in front of him. He insists that it’s better that way so if you fall he can catch you. As the rain picks up your feet slip under you, Kili and Fili grasp your arms quickly, pulling you back onto the ledge.

“Thank you,” you say softly as your eyes look over the ledge. Kili keeps a hold of your arm tightly as you all try to avoid the stone giant's blasts. The ground splits under your feet as the mountain takes shape as a giant, you grab onto the stone behind you before everyone begins to slide forward.

The stone giant slams into the mountain, throwing everyone off of it and onto the ground. Thorin yells for his nephews as the rest of the company runs over, Kili helps you up dusting your clothes off and checking to make sure you weren’t hurt anywhere.

After all the commotion everyone settles into the cave, Bilbo pulls you off to the side and quietly talks to you, he tells you about his plan to leave once everyone is asleep. “Why dad? What's wrong?” you whisper to him.

“Thorin is right, we never should've left home, I’ve put you in danger and I can’t let anything else happen to you.” he sighs as he runs his hand through your hair, “It’s okay, we’ll be fine.” he smiles reassuringly.

You both gather all of your stuff and sneak out, he leads you by the hand. He pulls you behind him as he talks with Bofur, you stay quiet looking around the cave. You didn’t really want to leave the company, I mean they were becoming your friends, you enjoyed the company.

“Y/N?” Kili mumbles as he looks up at you, he yawns. “Where are you going?” You crouch down putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep Kili, you need your rest,” you smile sweetly.

The floor splits and you slip down with everyone, Bilbo gets away but you are guided off with the dwarves. Your eyes fill with terror as you look around, you take a hold of Kilis hand squeezing tight as the goblins push you all around. You cower behind him, holding onto his shirt tightly.

Once you get out the dwarves all argue over where your dad went, your head drops as you think that your dad couldn't possibly have left you all alone. He reappears and you rush over to hug him, his hands drop to your waist as he smiles.

“Y/N!” Kili and Bilbo yell at you as you try to defend the dwarves with your small blade; it goes into the center of the wargs head, and Kili grabs you and pulls you up to the tree with him. His hand wrapping around your waist as he holds you close.

“Don’t move,” Kili’s voice is angry as he demands you to stay put. His hands dig into your slides as you look below your feet. Kili’s hands slip away as they start to throw the pinecones, the tree begins to fall, you grasp onto the trunk as tight as you can. His hands wrap around the tree, his eyes focused on you.

As Thorin and your father begin to fight the orcs, your eyes squeeze shut tightly, you try to focus on anything but the attack of Thorin. Kili pulls you up and onto the ground, insisting you stay put as they go to fight. You look forward, clutching the blade you retrieved from the corpse tight. As all of the commotion ensues you feel yourself being picked up by an eagle.

Once you all are in a safe place you watch as Gandalf helps heal Thorin. You stand next to your dad, holding onto his arm, as Thorin goes in for a hug you let go of him and move back. Your eyes wander to Kili who turns his head in order to avoid eye contact with you.

As the company moves forward you come across an area close to a river, Gandalf suggests that you all take a break and bathe. You and Kili were the last to go, you were paired up at the recommendation of Fili.

Kili guides you to the river, holding his weapon close to his chest, he’s been giving you the silent treatment after you got in between a fight. “You can bathe here, I’ll keep watch.” his voice stern.

“Kili..” your voice trails off as you look at his back, trying to pull his attention to you.

“Y/N, just take your bath. It’s getting dark.” Kili’s tone is extremely cold. You pout your lips as you begin pulling your clothing off slowly, once you finish you slip into the cold water.

“You can turn back now,” you say softly before you dip all the way under the water, holding your breath and squeezing your eyes shut. After a while you break the surface of the water sliding your hands over your face pulling the water back with your hair. Kili had turned around keeping his eyes on everything but you.

“Kili,” you wave him over, “come here, please.” you bite your lip as he gives you a bored expression.

“What is it?” he walks close to the bank of the river, his eyes scanning your face.

“Shouldn’t you join me? You're supposed to bathe as well,” he sighs, turning his back to you again.

“Fine, turn away.” he sets down his sword and strips quickly. You face the other way as he slips into the water with you.

“Kili, what is your problem?” you huff, spinning around with your arms crossed over your breasts.

“What do you mean?” his eyes are half closed as he looks at you with a slightly annoyed expression.

You move closer to him, “I mean, you’re acting so rude for no reason. You won’t look at me, you barely talk to me, you’re being so dumb” you glare at him, “So what is your problem?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“I don’t know maybe the fact that you threw yourself into harm's way? You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he yells at you while running his hand through his hair.

“Calm down Kili,” you move close to him, putting your hand on his arm. “I didn’t expect you to get all worked up like this, I know I should have been more careful but I just wanted to help.” your eyebrows furrow as you look down.

His warm hands grasp your upper arms “You really worried me Y/N,” he presses his forehead against yours.

“You worried about me?” a sly smile paints itself on your lips, “does that mean you like me Kili?” your voice is soft and teasing. His ears turn a deep shade of crimson as he turns his head up.

“Y/N cut that out,” he puts his hand on the side of your neck, his eyes flick to your lips.

“Cut what out?” you wrap your arms around his neck pulling yourself close to him.

“You know what,” he clenches his jaw, your hands running down his back as you wrap your legs around his hips.

Kili pulls your face to his, hovering his lips over yours “Quit teasing me,” he whispers. Your hand snakes up to the back of his head, cradling it as you push your lips against his. His hands move to your waist, his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he hugs you tighter against him.

“Mahal,” he pulls away, pressing soft kisses down your face and onto your neck. You lean back letting his lips trail over your body, your nails scratch his scalp softly as you arch into him.

“Amrâlimê,” he whispers against your collarbone, “you’re driving me insane,” Kili groans. He grasps your face pulling you in for an intimate kiss, he’s getting more intense with his affections, his hands squeezing your hips roughly.

Your hand trails down his chest tracing every muscle on his stomach, he begins grinding against you while holding your hips against him. Pulling away from the kiss you gasp for air, leaning your head against his shoulder, you wrap your hands in his hair pulling it off to the side. Kissing his neck roughly you begin to leave soft marks on his flesh as he massages your ass.

“Y/N..” he mumbles into your ear, you moan softly as he picks you up, moving into shallow water. “Can we..?” his ears flush as he looks away, “I mean, would you mind?” you chuckle softly.

“Mhm,” you move your hips against his thigh, feeling him twitch underneath you. “But we’ll have to be quick..” you kiss his shoulder as his hands pull your hips up, he lines himself up with your hole, pushing the tip in.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says gently, his hand finding its way to your neck grabbing ahold of it pulling your head back as you moan softly. He bucks his hips up into you, leaning forward you bury your face into his nape hugging him tight as you moan into his skin.

“My precious girl,” he groans as he slowly begins moving your hips up and down, his fingers digging into your soft skin, leaving red marks. You moan into his ear as you begin riding him, your arms wrap tight around his neck, eyebrows furrowing as you squeeze around his dick.

Kili cradles your head against him, holding you as close as he can, thrusting up into you pushing as deep as he can. Your head falls onto his shoulder, he moves a hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles into it.

“I’m so close,” you moan, Kili nods in response.

“Me too,” he groans, his hands exploring every part of your body as he pulls you into a passionate kiss.

“Hey, Y/N, Kili, hurry it up.” Fili yells to you, causing the both of you to jolt up. Kili pushes himself into you as deep as he can. You bite your lip as you cum around him, your hole pulsing.

Your back arches, silent gasps leaving your open mouth as you ride out your high. Your whole body seems to tense up causing Kili to groan while he cums deep inside you. He pulls you off of him giving you a sweet kiss.

“Now we really need to clean up, and fast.” He says lowly, his hands creep up from behind you gasping your sides as he pulls you into deeper water to rinse off. You sigh contently as he holds your body close to his.

After quickly cleaning yourselves up; you both get out, drying off before putting your clothes back on.

“Kili, you can’t tell anyone about this.” you bite your lip as you turn to him, his eyebrows furrow. “Bilbo might actually get so mad he tries to kill you,” you giggle softly as his face relaxes.

“So it’s our dirty little secret then?” coming close to you he wraps his arms around your neck giving you a deep kiss. “But we will get to tell everyone later, right?” he pulls back, eyes scanning yours.

“Yes, Kili,” you kiss the tip of his nose, hands resting on his shoulders, “but let's wait it out for a bit, okay?” he smiles in response.

[breitzbachbea]

Anyways. What if the man you owe your life to now and who's children you love as dearly as if they were yours, told you that the men you risked your life for when you were but boys are no longer welcome here. The men who risked a whole hell of a lot for your saviour's son's happiness. Who you felt judging you and them so hard for what you did. "I was 15", you say in apology and you feel his judgement weaken. "We were at risk of not having anything anymore," you say again. "They didn't want to give us rights either, and what rights has any of us, sect aside?" And you know he isn't sure if he should agree or not, but there is no ire, no loss of trust and yet. You lie in the flat he paid for and feel like crying, like you can't breathe, because you fucking dragged your friends over here only to betray them. You had to go because you couldn't die for the cause, of course you couldn't. Kilian was so right for shouting 'I hate you' in your face until his voice gave out. You sold out everyone for morals that have never done you any good.

And you go to your friend's house and you want to sleep huddled against them as if you're fifteen again and they are all that remains of all you ever called home.

Want to write something with the target audience of me and only me so badly, but at the thought of returning to the article I have to read for it, I start banging my head against the wall.