#the hobbit polish fandom

[lalka-lover]

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

(the acorn scene with polish dubbing)

[rey-jake-therapist]

I have the feeling that Celebrimbor will only die in the finale, for some reason. He’ll get beat up by Sauron in Ep.7 for sure. In that clip Amazon just released, I bet Celebrimbor is already aware that Annatar isn’t who he claims to be, and he’ll refuse to finish the Nine.

Ok, I know many people in the fandom have this headcanon of Galadriel beating the sh*t out of Sauron and almost killing him in S2 finale, but, I’m sorry, that’s wild. The showrunners seem to agree with me, for what we’ve seen so far. There is no way for Galadriel to overpower Sauron. He’s a ancient demigod created by the Gods, and he’s getting stronger now. Galadriel was only able to banish him to Mordor in “The Hobbit” because Sauron was weak and formless at the time, and it took her all of her strength and magic to do it. Magic she doesn’t yet possesses. She (or any other character) doesn’t stand any chance against Sauron in combat right now. But he doesn’t want to kill her, so he’ll toy with her until he can tempt her. If there is any fatally wounded in this fight is Galadriel (to be saved by Sauron). Quoting the polish reviewer, I would think someone in the production must have fall on their heads if they have Galadriel, an Elf, overpowering a freaking Maia, who’s getting more powerful, in combat.

Many people believe that? Really?? It makes absolutely no sense for Galadriel to beat Sauron in a fair fight, and she herself knows that. She wants to face him because she believes it's her duty now that he's back to business because of her, but she's perfectly aware that he will crush her if he wants.

When he watched her fight in Numenor, he didn't look impressed, and I'd even dare to say he looked slightly amused. She's a great warrior against "regular" enemies like Orcs, but she doesn't stand a chance against Sauron. In season 1, he blocked her arm effortlessly when she tried to stab him the first time. The second time, she ended in the river.

In the trailer he doesn't even have to touch the Elves guards of Eregion to throw them all against a wall. What could Galadriel possibly do against that?

No, when I speculate that she might have the chance to kill Sauron but chooses not to, it will be because he will be distracted. Or he might even provoke her to kill him, because he knows that faced with the choice, she won't do it. But of course this is just me writing my little fanfic here. It will probably not happen this way ;)

[imakemywings]

The Number One Exercise for Relieving Work-Related Stress (Click to Find Out!)

Fandom: The Hobbit/The Silmarillion

Relationship: Maglor/Thranduil

Summary: Maglor, who earned her place in Mirkwood serving in defense of the realm, has a plan for alleviating the queen's stress, and naturally it involves a great many jewels.

Length: 5.6k

AN: Fill for this kink meme prompt for the Noldor and their jewelry kink. See AO3 or SWG for a bonus poem.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Maglor tilted her head to the left until the earring nearly lay flat against the side of her neck in the mirror. Then, she tilted her head to the right. Too much? She took the polished wood and rat-bone earrings out, then decided that was not enough, and put them back in. She scrutinized the kohl she had put around her eyes. She squinted at the necklaces layered onto her bare bosom. She felt her foot growing numb under her naked ass.

She pawed through Thranduil’s earrings again, and examined the ones she had already laid out on the vanity as possibilities, humming a little aria to herself. She could only wear so many of them (despite her earlier impulse to call in a jeweler to add a few more piercings to her ears). It was imperative to find the most comely combination possible. Moreover, while Thranduil’s taste was equally in accessories of wood, bone, amber, and other softer materials, Maglor’s preference was for metal and jewels, so it was these she sought above all else in Thranduil’s collection. (However, there was something to be said for bedecking herself specifically in Wood-elf fashion.)

Thranduil had been engaged in negotiations with Dale for the last three weeks. They would come to an agreement, of course, the queen had told her languidly over an evening glass of wine, but the Men were impatient, which made Thranduil annoyed, and so she would let the process drag on by Elvish time. The Men were chewing their fingernails through to be done with what was meant to be a very routine trade treaty renewal and would therefore be willing to make the few concessions Thranduil sought.

But work was work, and with negotiations expected to wrap up shortly—that day, even!—Maglor thought it was past time she alleviated some of Thranduil’s weariness.

When at last she was satisfied with the shape and size and colors and number of adornments she wore, she reached for the jar of blush-pink paste and borrowed a bit to smear on each of her delicate brown cheeks. Then, on further consideration, rubbed a bit onto each nipple as well, pleased with the extra-rosy look it gave them. She sat back on the bench and observed her image in the mirror.

Her hair, which had regained its old glossy sheen in the centuries since she had first arrived in Mirkwood and began a proper diet again, she had woven into a careful updo on the back of her head. It was the custom of the Wood-elves to wear their hair down frequently, which meant that baring the back of the neck could be as risqué for them as a low neckline or tight trousers. For Maglor, who would have sooner perished than leave the house in Tirion with her hair down (at least, not without some effort at artful dishevelment) it was still at times surprising to see the queen greet guests without a single lock pinned up.

Nevertheless, Maglor had adapted quickly, and was keen to take advantage of customs that might hold Thranduil’s attention. However, it was equally important she wore it in a way that Thranduil could quickly and easily take it down. Therefore, Maglor had spent forty minutes twisting it up into something that could be let down with just one movement to remove the lethal hairpin holding everything in place. All the advantage of baring her neck, still with the promise of having her hair pulled.

She pressed her breasts together and let them fall back into place. She mimicked pulling at the necklaces around her throat. She felt a toasty glow in her chest at the feeling of Thranduil’s jewels against the heat of her body. She tilted her head at a coquettish angle and batted her eyelashes at her reflection, and then she heard the front door.

Morgoth’s fires! She had taken too long! Now she had no time to plan how to stretch herself out on the bed in the most appealing way, but there was no time to lament that. Stumbling off the bench, she flung herself at the bed, which was done too aggressively and threw her into the decorative pillows, where she flailed around for a moment trying to catch her bearings.

            “…Maglor?”

            Namo, why! Maglor righted herself on the broad bed and looked up, slightly frazzled (she could feel her hair still in place, thank Ilúvatar), to see her lover in the doorway.

            Thranduil was dressed for receiving foreign dignitaries, which meant she was, naturally, resplendent. A crown woven of the forest’s offerings circled her golden head, and the jewels Maglor hadn’t been able to pilfer shone at her ears and her throat and her long-fingered hands, and her robes were a luscious green that seemed almost to shift in shade when she moved. Thranduil tended to a leaner figure than Maglor, slim in the chest, broad in the shoulder, with eyes so green it seemed a part of the forest had crawled into her and become a part thereof. Maglor blushed just to see her, and to know this woman wanted her at any time.

            “Hello,” she said a little breathlessly.

            “Are you well?” Thranduil asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow as Maglor slid into a more flirtatious pose, stretching herself out on the covers, displaying the evidence of her theft.

            “How fare the negotiations?” Maglor asked, ignoring the question and propping her head up with one hand to flutter her dark lashes at Thranduil. She shifted her thighs, pleased to see Thranduil’s eyes flick to the nest of wiry black hair between her legs.

            “Well enough,” Thranduil answered, giving Maglor a look as if she suspected her of shenanigans (a suspicion WHOLLY unjustified in Maglor’s view). The queen reached up and removed her crown, and while Maglor regretted Thranduil’s weariness, there was still something stirred in her heart (and lower, too) at the sight of Thranduil’s regal exhaustion. How endlessly she works for the kingdom, Maglor sighed dreamily. “We have come to agreement; the morrow will be some last entertainment for our guests, and then they will be gone, I believe. Seldom are Men content to be at rest.” She set the crown down on her vanity.

            “I am glad to hear it,” Maglor said, swinging her legs off the bed when Thranduil did not immediately come to her. “You have been tireless at the task; you have long earned rest.”

            “I shan’t refuse it,” Thranduil sighed, and Maglor came nearer and insinuated herself up against Thranduil’s chest, when the queen was not taking enough of a suggestion.

            “Let me help,” she simpered, and while the similarity of their height (and Thranduil was tall among the Sindar!) made it hard to bat her eyes up at Thranduil, she made the effort anyway. “Permit me to alleviate your stress.”

            “I am tired, Maglor,” said Thranduil gently, placing her hands on Maglor’s shoulders.

            “This I know,” said Maglor. “Therefore allow me! You need do nothing at all; I shall care for you.” She pressed her nakedness against Thranduil, curling her hands on Thranduil’s chest, tilting her chin up. “Allow me to take such weights from your mind, my love,” she breathed, breathing in the smell of rain and damp moss that hung around the Elvenqueen.

            Thranduil’s hand went automatically to Maglor’s waist, and Maglor then surged up and pressed her mouth to Thranduil’s, and the queen did not draw away, but allowed Maglor to coax her into the kiss, until Maglor felt she tingled with warmth from head to toe.

            “Are those my earrings?” Thranduil asked when they separated, and Maglor almost melted to the floor in frustration. Certainly, Sindar did not place quite the same cultural importance on jewelry that the Noldor did, but honestly!

            “Indeed,” she said, her voice unsteady only briefly as she quickly switched tracks from utter despair. “Indeed I have many things of yours, my lady.” She took Thranduil’s hands and slid one of the rings from Thranduil’s hand onto her own, smiling, then touched Thranduil’s hands to the earrings she wore. “These.” She pressed Thranduil’s hands to the necklaces at her chest. “These.” Lower, she cupped Thranduil’s hands around her bare breasts and smiled. “These.” She traced Thranduil’s fingers down to the parsley bed below her bellybutton and the corners of her mouth turned up more sharply. “This.”

            Thranduil had that slow, thoughtful look on her face that thrilled Maglor to think she was winning.

            “Let me give what aid I may,” she wheedled, stretching her arms around Thranduil’s neck, leaning the weight of her body against Thranduil. “This I can do for you,” she murmured against Thranduil’s ear. “If this lovesick fool is good for little else, she may do this at the least.”

            The tip of Thranduil’s ear was flushed and Maglor cheered silently. This was often the only signal that she had flustered or aroused her love.

            “Very well,” Thranduil said, as if she were giving in to doing Maglor a favor. “On the bed.” She pointed, and Maglor danced away from her on light feet to fall onto the bed in a tumble of jewels, watching with shining eyes as Thranduil shrugged out of her heavier outer robe, leaving her in the closely-fit inner tunic which cinched so fetchingly against her waist and that first curve of her hips. Heat bubbled in Maglor’s gut and her chest and she sighed with pleasure supreme as Thranduil began to weave her hair back into a simple three-strand braid. She had grown accustomed to this habit of Thranduil’s and was delighted to envision Thranduil preparing to go to work on her.

            “Is such theft a courtship ritual among the Noldor?” Thranduil drawled as she toed her shoes off and then approached the bed.

            “No,” Maglor said, shivering, feeling the sharp beat of her heart. “Yet it may…it may gain the attention of one desired. Lovers may share many things, may they not?” Maglor had certainly delighted Noldorin lovers past by bedecking herself in their jewels and presenting herself for a good fucking.

            Thranduil might disagree, but Maglor would forever maintain that her new ruby earrings from Erebor had been what led to the consummation of long-simmering interest between herself and the queen.

            Thranduil shed most of her own jewelry before approaching the bed, and Maglor promptly raised herself up on her knees to capture another kiss from Thranduil when she came within reach. It was several long moments of this before Thranduil could push Maglor down on the mattress and disengage her mouth.

            “Allegedly this is for my benefit,” said Thranduil, “yet it seems you who feels neglected.” Maglor made a little moue unbecoming of a former general.

            “Never did I use the word neglected,” she objected.

            “Yet you cry neglect should I leave the room for five minutes or more.”

            “I do not!” Maglor lied emphatically.

            “You might have chosen a partner with a less bothersome career,” said Thranduil

            “No,” Maglor said, her face softening. “No, I could not have.”

            Thranduil silenced any further romanticizing on Maglor’s part with another kiss, and this time Maglor made no disguise of arching up against her, winding her arms around Thranduil’s neck to pull her down flush against Maglor’s bare body. Thranduil was poised with one foot still on the floor when Maglor pressed her hands greedily against the queen’s breasts through her tunic and stole yet another kiss from her.

            “Was it long you waited for me here?” Thranduil murmured, lowering her mouth to Maglor’s throat; Maglor’s head fell back in prompt and wanton abandon.

            “Terribly long,” Maglor lied breathily, combing her hands through Thranduil’s loose, pale gold hair, warmth spreading throughout her body at Thranduil’s touch. “An eternity.”

            “An eternity, hm?” Thranduil moved further down still, lapped at one of Maglor’s nipples, and then made a repulsed noise and drew back. “Did you put something on your skin?” she asked, and Maglor’s cheeks flushed.

            “Ah, well…only a little. Harmless, really. I sought an effect of color...”

            Thranduil gave her a look clearly torn between being exasperated and deeply entertained, and at last she shook her head. Then she licked her thumb good and moist and wiped the blush away from Maglor’s nipples.

            “Another way I know to achieve that effect,” she murmured, and Maglor yelped and sighed, aching wonderfully as Thranduil nibbled at her breasts.

            “Ah…as always I…ohh…I defer to the wisdom of my…” Maglor’s hand fisted in Thranduil’s hair and she gave up speaking for the time being.

            Thranduil drew back and thrust her fingers into Maglor’s face.

            “Open,” she said, using her queen’s command voice that turned Maglor’s insides to liquid. Maglor’s lips parted and she eagerly took Thranduil’s fingers into her mouth, sucking the fervor, and delighted to see the tips of her lover’s ears glow at her shameless enthusiasm. “Come here.” Eventually she managed to free her fingers from Maglor’s greedy tongue and moved back off the bed, beckoning Maglor to the edge, where she sat and spread her legs without hesitation, desirous that Thranduil should see how wet and ready she was for her.

            Thranduil traced her fingertips lightly down Maglor’s thighs, and Maglor twitched her head to make her earrings rattle.

            “Have I pleased my lady?” she could not help but ask. “With this sight?” She fingered the necklaces at her breast.

            “Always the sight of you pleases me,” Thranduil murmured, as often too sincere for Maglor’s flirtatious banter. “Let me return the favor.”

            “Oh, but you mustn’t think me not just as pleased with the sight of you.” Maglor completed this sentence only with great determination and several octaves higher than it had begun as Thranduil’s fingers brushed through the coarse black hair below her bellybutton and began to tease at the glistening seam of her lips. “You need not even speak and already I—ah. Already I am—at your whim—” Maglor’s determination to keep talking decreased by order of magnitude as Thranduil’s fingers pressed deeper into her, until those same digits slicked with Maglor’s own saliva breached her entrance and Maglor fell back onto the mattress, jewels singing, legs miles apart, breasts quivering with her gasping breaths.

            “Since you have gone through such remarkable effort,” Thranduil was saying then, fingers working with agonizing slowness in and out of Maglor’s cunt, stroking her most obligingly, “I feel I should do the same. What say you? Would you prefer a toy?”

            Maglor’s garbled moan could not have been less coherent. Thranduil had a habit of turning her silver-tongued Noldo into a probable victim of head trauma. Maglor adored it.

            “As you…as you prefer, of course,” she got out at last, squirming on the bed, canting her hips up towards Thranduil’s hand. What she wanted more than anything was to have more, and she did not at all care for the notion of Thranduil leaving her even for a moment.

            “Then a toy it shall be,” said Thranduil, and Maglor could wail at the sudden emptiness and the absence of Thranduil’s reaching fingers. “Go and fetch it.”

            Maglor sat up, dizzy, and thought perhaps she ought to have spent fewer of the last couple decades coaxing Thranduil to be rougher and harsher with her. Thranduil’s objections were two-fold, being for one that she was not naturally inclined to harshness. Sternness perhaps (and how Maglor had thought of that with a hand pressed between her own legs for centuries!), but not mean, and particularly in intimacy inclined to gentleness and generosity. 

The other prong of her resistance was, alas, Maglor’s own doing. Maglor’s psyche had been, to speak obliquely, delicate when first she arrived in Mirkwood just before the turn of the Second Age’s second millennium. She had tried most ardently to convince Thranduil that a bit of roughness in bed would help more than harm, but the many occasions on which she had wept at Thranduil’s simplest touch did not much convince the queen of the therapeutic value of calling her a slut. Still, Maglor was nothing if not determined to get what she wanted.

            Now, though, as she was forced, wet and throbbing, to climb off the bed and go dig up one of Thranduil’s phalluses, she considered that she had empowered this woman far too much.

            “The harness as well,” Thranduil directed.

            “As you wish.” Anything to get Thranduil’s hands back on her!

            She returned to Thranduil as quick as she could with both items, but rather than hand them over, leaned in for a kiss.

            “Distracted?” Thranduil murmured against Maglor’s lips.

            “You are still dressed,” Maglor lamented, one of few things for which she would put off her own satisfaction. “Allow me to assist.” She cast the toy and harness aside on the bed and reached for Thranduil’s tunic clasps. The corners of the queen’s mouth twitched in near a smile and she allowed Maglor to take her time running her hands up and down Thranduil’s lapels before she began to undo the clasps one at a time. Patience was not often something Maglor had in abundance, but let it not be said she could not enjoy the unwrapping of her lover!

            When Maglor cast aside Thranduil’s shift, dropping it into the pile of her other things which they had made nearby, she gestured as if gazing upon a masterpiece for the first time.

            “Your beauty only grows manifold with each time I see you!” she cried, and kissed Thranduil’s breast. Once more her arms went about Thranduil’s neck and she buried her face into the crook of Thranduil’s neck, kissing and sucking at the warm skin. Here, wordlessly, she took one of Thranduil’s broad hands and set it against the back of her head; this signal the queen understood. She tugged at the pin in Maglor’s hair and set those coal black waves tumbling down over Maglor’s shoulders. Thranduil’s hands carded through her hair and Maglor made wordless noises of pleasure, laving her tongue against Thranduil’s collarbone.

With some aid, she wrapped her well-muscled legs around Thranduil’s hips until she was clinging to her like a starfish, wet against Thranduil’s bared stomach, with Thranduil’s hands hooked underneath her. Maglor nuzzled against Thranduil’s neck, into the soft fall of her hair, breathing in the smell of her.

            “If too long I think on this,” she murmured, “still it seems a dream to me, for such happiness cannot be the due of Kanafinwë Makalaurë.” Her grip on Thranduil tightened, though not for fear of falling. One of Thranduil’s hands moved up to her back, stroking soothingly down her spine.

            “’tis all real, this I promise,” Thranduil assured her quietly. “Let me show you.” She managed to untangle Maglor from her, and then tossed her onto the bed as if she were an unruly child.

            “Such displays of affection!” Maglor cried in faux outrage from where she’d sunk into the mattress. “My reward for declarations of love and loyalty!” She let her voice quaver melodramatically as if on the verge of tears.

            “If such things stir you not, you must be already in the waking world,” Thranduil pointed out and Maglor could see the glint of amusement in her eyes.

            “How I should have listened to the tales of the cruelty of the terrible Elvenqueen!” Maglor wailed.

            “Tsk. Does my jabbering jay wish for her pleasure or not? If so, she would do best hand over the object of it.” Maglor slid the toy into the harness and rose once more from the bed to help Thranduil step into it. The queen was more than capable of doing it herself, and Maglor often liked to watch, but she took pleasure too in the intimacy of installing the device which was to take her apart, nestling it with great care against the moss bed of Thranduil’s sex.

            When it was settled, Maglor gave the toy a few teasing strokes with her hand before returning unbidden to the bed. She settled back against the pillows and spread her legs in welcome, adjusting her necklaces and earrings to make sure they were all pleasingly arranged.

            “How do you think it suits me, your jewelry?” Since Thranduil had not taken enough notice of this, Maglor was forced to use more direct and less coy means. It was not ideal, but she was still convinced she could bring Thranduil around to the notion of wearing another’s jewels as a form of intimacy. “I chose very carefully,” she added, dragging a thumb over her lower lip.

            “My vanity appears thoroughly ravished,” Thranduil agreed, glancing back at it, drawing a pout from Maglor at even this brief lapse in her direct attention.

            “How she comments more readily on the furniture than on myself, when I have put such effort into appearing fair and comely for her!” Maglor cried. A smile quirked the corner of Thranduil’s mouth as she turned, sobering slightly, back to Maglor.

            “When one feels a thing but lightly, is it not easier of which to speak?” she said.

            “So I hear from others,” Maglor admitted. She herself had never been one to shy from sharing her feelings; indeed, as a youth, she had languished in them. How many tragedies and troubles had she dreamed up for herself in Tirion so that she could sit on some high window sill above the yellowing trees and write lengthy and florid laments about her woes? But now…

            Now Maglor spent those fall mornings laying on a cushion on the balcony with Thranduil, listening to her remark on the color of the leaves, and holding a cup of tea to her chest, and she thought there was no higher expenditure of time on Arda. What worth was there in fantastical tragedies when Maglor cupped such joy in her hands?

            “Yet it is your thoughts I crave above all others,” Maglor said.

            “As ever, I have not your gift for words of praise,” said Thranduil, coming nearer, kneeling on the bed and moving towards Maglor. “Yet I believe the fashion of this kingdom looks well on you, and to my eye there is no fairer Elf in all the realm.” This was patently biased, as Maglor was far from the fairest of Mirkwood—nay, she had been not even the fairest of her family—but she was quite content for Thranduil to be so biased.

            Thranduil’s fingers swept up Maglor’s thighs and she lowered her head to kiss against the plump flesh. In Mirkwood, Maglor was fitter and more well-fed than she had been since she commanded the troops of the Gap, and had been training regularly for war. Something skeletal and wasted she had been when she arrived, but she had filled out to full health since then, and Thranduil seemed to take particular pleasure in Maglor’s strong, firm thighs. Often Maglor left the royal apartment with the evidence of Thranduil’s appreciation bruising the soft inner skin.

            “Then I wonder that you have not glanced upon a mirror, my love!” Maglor smiled as she spoke, for it buoyed something in her chest she had long believed sunken and drowned to banter words so playfully with another, particularly with this other.

            “And what game of yours, to beg sweet words off me and then refuse them?” Thranduil asked, giving Maglor’s thigh a pinch and making her gasp.

            “Sweet words I said, not untruths,” Maglor teased.

            “I give you my truths; if you recognize them not, I believe this to be no fault of mine.”

            Maglor wanted to have a snappy reply to this as well, but as happened so often with her anymore—how her youthful self would have wailed and torn her hair and covered her eyes to see it!—she was simply overwhelmed at the notion of being loved and desired, and so she kissed Thranduil instead, drawing her near until the queen’s breasts brushed against her own.

            “Tell me not that my little minstrel is out of words?” Thranduil never missed an opportunity to tease Maglor for such responses, but it thrilled her to hear, and such terms as ‘my little minstrel’ were equally a delight, more so because Maglor could imagine some trace of possessiveness behind it, even if Thranduil appeared to be the least possessive person Maglor had ever encountered (at times, to her frustration!)

            “Out of words, Maglor? Never!” boasted she. “Very fine ones I have, ones just for you. Lean closer, and I shall whisper them to you.” Thranduil obeyed, and Maglor smoothed the hair away from Thranduil’s ear and drew in her breath and put her mouth just beside it to whisper: “I want your cock.”  

            Thranduil snorted and dropped her head at once before raising her face to look at Maglor, her lips pressed thin in amusement. She traced her fingers over the necklaces laying askew across Maglor’s breast, lingering, Maglor thought, with some appreciation.

            “Far be it from my place to deny such eloquence,” she replied dryly, and Maglor gave an anticipatory wriggle on the bed. Thranduil took a moment to thumb at Maglor’s clit until she was mewling before using her fingers to part Maglor’s lips and ease in the tip of the toy.

            Learning one another had been, thus far, an experience for the pair, neither of whom believed they would ever have a lover again. Thranduil was centuries into grieving her lost wife—who had sired their only daughter, Legolas—when first Maglor had arrived, and Maglor, for obvious reasons, simply assumed no one would ever wish to touch her or look on her with love or desire again. While the sheer headiness of her early encounters with Thranduil were not something she would ever trade, there was, she found, a domestic kind of bliss in having settled into something more regular, more comfortable, and less likely to leave her bawling at a simple touch or an innocuous compliment. It helped that she’d had centuries of serving Thranduil as one of her subjects and gaining, if Maglor could venture to say, some measure of her respect before either of them had even hinted at breaching a romance.

            It was, therefore, Maglor’s utmost pleasure to be taken into Thranduil’s arms and thoroughly loved (though truthfully, with how she had worked herself up and Thranduil’s fingers earlier, she did not last terribly long). The toy stretched her beautifully (though not as much as some of the others she might have chosen) and the strain of it thrilled her with a liquid heat that bubbled up in her gut and flowed outward. Maglor, ever a connoisseur of sound, focused to shivering delight on the wet sound of Thranduil’s toy thrusting in and out of her; the shifting of the bed beneath them; the rattle of her many jewels; and her own needy grunting and moaning as she rolled her hips up, trying to drive the toy deeper.

            When her climax burst and spread in tingling waves throughout her, Maglor groaned on the tail end of one last Oh, Thranduil, I’m so close! Thranduil did not remove the toy until Maglor stilled entirely, which she must have learned Maglor preferred—indeed, Maglor often pleaded to be fucked through her orgasm, relishing the sense of overstimulation.

            “Does your mind rest easier now?” Thranduil asked, drawing back.

            “Your mind…” Maglor said incoherently, making an equally senseless gesture with one hand above her head.

            “Mhm.” Thranduil slid off the bed and busied herself shimmying out of the harness. Pushing through her post-coital fog, Maglor lunged upright, Thranduil’s jewels jangling, and scrambled to the edge of the bed to throw her arms around Thranduil’s waist and pull the queen back against her.

            “Say not it is time for your departure,” she pleaded. “I have not yet done as I said, I have given you no pleasure yet.”

            “How can that be?” Thranduil said, twisting in her arms. “When you have just sung so prettily for me?”

            Maglor flushed, pleased, and stroked Thranduil’s pale belly.

            “Yet I would give you more,” she insisted. Thranduil touched Maglor’s cheek gently and then leaned in to kiss her.

            “I am tired, and tonight I would demand too great an effort for too little a reward,” she said. “I am content with your pleasure.” She detached herself from Maglor to toss the used toy into the laundry pile to be washed later, but to Maglor’s relief returned not to work, but to the bed.

            “Are you sure?” Maglor fretted, scooting back to make room for Thranduil.

            “Will you not remove some of that silly costume?” Thranduil asked instead, gesturing at the chest worth of jewels Maglor wore.

            “Silly!” Maglor cried. “’tis a display most sensuous by my reckoning!”

            “You may not lay against me in so many jewels; neither have I a wish to caress a porcupine.”

            “My efforts are wholly unappreciated!” Maglor removed herself from the bed and as quickly as she might removed all but one of the necklaces—a solid, simple ruby in silver which rested quite fetchingly against her chest, just above the space between her breasts and complemented the tone of her skin quite well—and all of the earrings but a pair of golden cuffs. Then she returned and snuggled into Thranduil’s waiting arms, something deep in her chest letting out a relieved sigh to be clasped so near and so lovingly. Still it seemed to her a thing new and wonderous, relative to the interminable stretch of numbing isolation and deprivation which had characterized her life after the end of the First Age.

            She pressed kisses to Thranduil’s shoulder and collar and then propped herself up to look down into those mossy green eyes. So long a study had she made of Thranduil’s eyes in the years of her time in Mirkwood that she felt confident it was not her imagination that she could see just a slight difference between Thranduil’s natural eye and the blind one she covered with a glamor spell (Elvish healing both natural and assisted might erase scars of most sources, but dragon fire was beyond even their ken).

            “Your thoughts seem very loud,” said Thranduil after some moments of silence, reaching up to brush her fingers over Maglor’s cheek.

            “Still I wonder that such bounty is mine,” Maglor confessed, tracing a finger over the elegant curve of Thranduil’s lower lip. “To live so long in yearning and disbelief…makes a dream of a reality so long desired.” She lowered her head and pressed a tender kiss to Thranduil’s lips.

            “Should you require more proof, there is the bath there,” Thranduil offered, and Maglor huffed. Would she ever forgive Thranduil for the instance of throwing Maglor, naked and helpless, into the icy water of Thranduil’s spring-water bath for a laugh? Perhaps eventually. Perhaps when Galadriel admitted to a mistake.

            But then Maglor’s face sobered.

            “I am speaking truly, though,” she said. She stroked the familiar, beloved lines of Thranduil’s face. “You saved me,” she said softly. “’tis a debt I shall never repay.”

            “I—”

            “You did,” Maglor insisted. And Maglor would never be convinced otherwise. When first she had wandered inland, seeking she did not know what, she had not meant to step into the realm of a former Doriathrim. Of course Thranduil had captured her eventually; Maglor knew nothing of the forest, not this one nor any other, and the light in her eyes gave her away for what she was, even if she had sought to disguise it. It mattered little to her—by then she had glimpsed at a distance the queen abroad in the woods and her heart was set on her, or so it seemed to Maglor. It was after Thranduil showed her mercy, in the form of a probationary period rather than an immediate kiss from Thranduil’s blade, that Maglor knew she was in love.

            “When one has seen oneself a given way for so long, it becomes immutable, or so it seems,” Maglor went on. “You cannot know what a gift it is for another to suggest you might be otherwise.” Thranduil did not object this time, and Maglor drew her thumb gently along Thranduil’s cheekbone, over the soft skin under her eye. “That person I was before, I would not be her again, not if it were a choice betwixt her and death. But ‘twas you that showed me she was not all that was left to me.”

            Initially, Thranduil’s long silences had troubled Maglor, often making her fear the queen was displeased. Now, and at this moment in particular, she appreciated that Thranduil was giving her words the consideration it seemed they were due.

            At length she said: “Then I am glad.” Her fingers lingered on Maglor’s face, and after a pause, she added: “I know this path has not always been smooth. Yet you have persisted. It is…reassuring, perhaps, to know that such change is possible, and there are those willing to make the effort.”

            “And I shall keep trying,” Maglor declared, feeling that rush of determined protectiveness which had become the way she characterized her duty to Thranduil, a feeling like nothing she had experienced since she had last been entrusted with something, with the defense of the Gap. In the long centuries since then, she had come to believe she simply was not capable of being trusted with keeping anything safe, but she had now new things to guard: Thranduil, and Thranduil’s home, and Thranduil’s happiness, and it seemed to her there was no nobler cause to which to dedicate what remained of her life in Middle-earth.

            Thranduil said nothing more on it, but leaned up and kissed her, and Maglor sank back down into her arms, and felt again that at last—at long, long last after endless wanderings abroad, alone, wind-burned and sunbaked and hoary with regret, Maglor had come to a place she believed she would never reach again: home.

[verkomy]

just wanted to drop by and say that i absolutely LOVE your art, ive been getting back into the lotr and hobbit hyperfixation hole and your bagginshield stuff makes me cry my eyes out. and also as a polish citizen i thrive on the slavic arts

omg dziękuję bardzo i witam serdecznie, so excited to have you in a fandom 💛

[electracution]

-`♡´- ABOUT ME & LINKS -`♡´-

Hi! I'm Electra. I use any pronouns. I'm 20 years old and Polish, so forgive me any spelling mistakes.

This is my main blog. You'll find my art here mostly Tolkien, but I might include other fandoms too.

FANDOMS: Tolkien (LoTR, Hobbit, and I'm reading The Silmarillion) ✮ Malevolent (podcast) ✮ resident evil ✮ The Magnus Archives ✮ Welcome to Night Vale ✮ goth music and interests alike ✮ jjba ✮ criminal minds ✮ stranger things

LINKS!

My podcast side blog @electraascending

Ao3: electracution (LoTR Boromir!Lives ff finally OUT!)

My art: art tag

My reblogs: other people's art

Important causes

Asks & personal

[nayialovecat]

Can I get any more hints for the challenge? Perhaps a list of fandoms you like, or a reworded clue?

Ok, it's even a good idea to write down what things I like. Especially since lately I have been often asked to draw something or to make a cross with something that I only know it exists.

I divided the list into categories to avoid any doubts (e.g. BATIM is only in the games category, 'cause I haven't read the books and I don't plan to read them yet, and W.I.T.C.H. in comics, 'cause I hate the animated series).

Books: (here list is really long so I write only these very popular)

Discworld and others from sir Pretchett

The Lord of the Ring, Hobbit

Harry Potter

Agatha Christie's books

Jane Austen's books

Maria Rodziewiczówna's books

many old Polish authors (like Sienkiewicz)

Movies:

almost all from Disney

almost all from Pixar

Ghost Busters

almost all from DreamWorks

Beetlejuice

old Star Wars

LotR, Hobbit but not really

strange French animations

old Polish movies (like Odwrócona Góra)

Scooby Doo but not all (hate live actions especially)

Smurfs

Not all - Pokemon

Deadpool

Jurassic Park

good ol' classical movies like Terminator, Mission Impossible or Fifth Element

Animated serials:

Gravity Falls

Scooby Doo (ALL of them)

Star Butterfly

The Owl House

old Polish series (i.e. Dixie or Koziołek Matołek)

MLP (almost all generations)

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Spider-man (almost all)

Batman (not all, but Brave and Bold is my fav one)

Kipo

Rick and Morty (but last seasons were meh)

Phineas and Ferb (whole universum)

Smurfs

Duck Tales

Dead End: Paranormal Park

Steven Universe

Teen Titans (yes, Go! also)

Pokemon

Loony Tunes

Merry Melodies

Craig from the Creek

Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

other CN stuff I guess?

Comics:

Donald Duck (and others)

W.I.T.C.H.

Deadpool

Hellsing

The Bridge's Stories

many online series like Erma, Vampire's Husband etc.

Pokemon Special

Games:

Chrono Trigger (world best game - you cannot change my mind)

BATIM

The Sims

Don't Starve Together (+ Don't Starve)

The Night of the Rabbit

Pokemon (all of them I guess)

Fallout Shelter

Team Fortress 2

Planet Zoo

Timberborn

Settlers

Sid Meier's Civ

Heroes of Might & Magic (but not IV)

Terraforming Mars

Talisman

Magic the Gathering (TCG)

Death and Taxes

many point&click

Tzar

Aztec Wars

Jazz Jackrabbit 2

Worms

Inscryption

Graveyard Keeper

It's not a complete list, just the things I remember at this moment :)

[seeyouatthesecondmusic]

Polyamory among Tolkien's dwarves

so. the hobbit fandom has this whole thing about dwarves having soulmates, or 'ones', right? and it's sort of canon to tolkien. in the appendix of rotk, he said that dwarves 'marry only once', if at all. but it got me thinking, wouldn't that exclude the possibility of polyamory among the dwarves? well, not necessarily. it never says they only marry one person- it only says they marry merely once... so this idea still needs some polishing and i'll figure out the details later, but just. polyamory in dwarven culture!! dwarves having weddings where they marry more than one person at a time!!

[elevenelvenswords]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @curufiin- thankies <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 8 so far.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

20,718 apparently

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Silmarillion- it's been an ongoing obsession for approximately 7 years now lol.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Fretting, which is my first ever published fic, is at the top. I'm not super proud of it if I'm being honest but I'm glad others enjoyed it :P Then we've got Inside Out, Unbridled sword and passion, Take a chance and Stutter.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do try to reply to every comment! The fact that someone made time to tell me something nice about my works means the world to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably this one? None of my fics are fluffy so...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My recent Curufinrod fic, I think? It's less... gnarly and angst-driven?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Fortunately no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Considering that 6 out of those 8 fics are tagged as explicit, you can draw your own conclusions :P I write various flavours of kink :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but certain fics that I wrote were inspired by conversations I had with other fandom members :3

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I'll go with the good ol' Angbang. I've recently become deeply invested in Curufinrod though, and I'll (hopefully) write for more pairings over the Christmas break.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's a very old draft of a multi-chaptered Angbang fic that's been gathering dust on my laptop for a year xD I might polish it up and post it at some point IF I find the motivation for it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I guess I'm fairly good at descriptions and metaphors?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Good pacing and finding the right balance between dialogue and narration are both pretty tricky for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've never tried this but I find it exquisite in other people's fics :D

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably The Hobbit? But what I wrote is between me and god lmao.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I tend to be very critical of my own works, especially after I post them. I don't really re-read them so it's difficult for me to choose a favourite one when I can't recall half the things I wrote lol. But I was pretty proud of Beyond the pale back when I wrote it! My writing style changed over the years, I believe, so I'm pleased to see the improvement :)

Tagging @polutrope, @crackinthecup, @gardensofthemoon, @havenotwillnotreadthebooks, @i-did-not-mean-to and whoever wants to give this a go!

[leatherbookmark]

☁️🐚🍄🍓(all, or any combination you want) for the fanfiction author ask meme

kissing your hand reverently for the ask etc

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

i just like leather bookmarks!! originally lb was a non-kpop sideblog, and i wanted something that wouldn't be fandom-specific (i don't really like changing usernames) but that at the same time would fit my current fandom (the hobbit hehe). so, leatherbookmark!!

as for my ao3 username, oenanthe is a name of two genera: birds and plants, but i took mine from the bird one. specifically, this little guy. i love that the latin name is so pretty (wine+flower) but both english and polish taxonomers went "this bird has a white ass. alright then here you go"

by the way, huh, these arrows are fun! they're not -> but ⇢. they're dashed. cute

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

oh boy i really don't... i used to when i was a kid, but at this point it's just a source of stress. though like -- depends, because if someone gets me a little postcard or a souvenir that's right up my alley, it's great and i'm happy they thought of me!, but if it's a big expensive gift... yeag

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

fascinated by the separation of ship and pairing here, btw

ohhhh my god i gotta get my fandom brain back in order.

xiyao. what do i think about xiyao? i like to think that in a better world they'd love to Eat. try out different stuff, ranging from "drowning in grease and made by a 78yo uncle who spits into his hands spiritedly before kneading the dough" to... hm. would they go for the "lick the citrus foam out of the plaster cast of the chef's mouth" dining, uh, experience? probably not, but lxc would be amazed and interested, half sincerely and half because he wants to check at what point jgy will go beloved, what the fuck.

but ALSO i think they'd just enjoy meals as a way of spending time together! so whether it's a modern au or not, they whip out the nice tableware, make sure there's a nice plantly being/something decorative on the table, etc. (they don't play music/put on tv in the background because they don't believe in that.)

(all of the above also means their meals take WAY longer than you'd expect, or rather -- as long as they can make them. breakfasts come with dessert now icydk)

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

hm!! i think i just... started doing it? when i was a kid and browsing blogs about the witch comic series, i stumbled upon some blogs that weren't like, character profiles and comic arc summaries, but instead basically chaptered fanfiction. and since that, i kind of seeked out people's fics, often more than canon material like scans, databases and such lol.

iirc i started out making comics about my OCs, weird little AUs (like... utena characters, but magical girls/boys lmfao), or "original" comics obviously were just crazy mixes of whatever i was into at the moment. i only started writing fic when i was, idk, ten? and even then it was more like "ough i have a certain scene/image/mood/feeling in my brain and i need to get it Out" than actual stories :')

another thing that hasn't changed until sort-of-very-recently was me just.... starting anew every new fandom. i'd be into fandom X for years, produce tons of fics, and then once i got into fandom Y i was like oh fuck this is all so embarrassing, STARTING A NEW ACCOUNT RIGHT AWAY OR WE DIE. 👍 on one hand cool, on the other i sometimes envy writers who don't have to log into three separate accounts to see all their stats ='D

[s1llys0ck]

HI!! HELLO!! :3

My name is Akira!! Im a silly little tumblr user

I speak English and Polish (PLEASE i NEED to find some Polish moots agfhjkdbc)

I go by any pronouns! Whatever suits your taste

Im sorry if im overly friendly 😭 also if i somehow make u uncomfy then please let me know, i sometimes act weird without knowing

This isnt my main account!! I just post random art on this blog ☆

Anyways, heres a list of fandoms im in (in no specific order, just whatever comes to my mind)!!:

DSAF (Day Shift at Freddys) FNAF Good Omens TADC (The Amazing Digital Circus) Dead plate ATSV/ITSV (Across/into the spiderverse) Gravity Falls Wander Over Yonder NGE (Neon Genesis Eva.) The Hobbit (both book and movie) Inside job Hazbin Hotel Rick and Morty Breaking bad Total Drama Centaurworld Class of 09 Shera Helluva boss 1670 KinitoPET Regrevator The Lorax (do NOT question 💀💀) MLP Love, Death + Robots Puss in boots Shrek The Cuphead Show Sonic (kinda? Like more of a casual fan) Spirited Away Nimona (movie only) Mean Girls (2004) South Park Villainous Mandela Catalouge (kinda, only watched a few so far!!) The Boiled One Phenomenon (is there even a fandom for that????? (Hopefully not)) DDLC (Doki Doki Literature Club) HTTYD (How to train your dragon) Venom Dying light The Last of Us (both video game and series) Smg4 (current hyperfixation) Trollhunters Deadpool Roblox Pressure

Thats geniuenly all i can think of for now (i probably forgot like half of the things i know everything about so this might get updated!!)

If you want to contact me, please reach out to @s1llys0ck-2

☆°Get to know me/important info!!

☆°My Carrd!! (Currently being updated/no link attached just yet!!)

☆°What time is it in my country?

☆°My main OC!!

[daisy-dooodles]

Bookmarks

I went back to reading a little during this time and got the idea of making personalised bookmarks for certain books. I had many ideas, but I only ended up making 3, I still remember what the bigger project was so maybe in the future you'll see it!

the first one I made was for a Polish book since I was trying to get back into my roots a bit and learn a bit better the language. then I moved into fandom territory! and I did the hobbit cause it's just a fantastic world I will never get tired of, and then the series obsession of that time: good omens :D

[castlebyersafterdark]

I wonder how they’re editing the episodes together are they doing it all at once or have some episodes been completed. I mean filming has taken a whole year but I know there are schedule changes and reshoots, so it’s gonna be interesting to see how and when they edit!

Plus I’m really hoping the documentary rumours are true because more bts of the actors and production? Yes please!!

I think the documentary is more than rumor - where did we learn this? I feel like one of the big wigs confirmed it. Either the Bros or Shawn maybe? So excited. It will be an amazing way to hear formalized insight from the creators and actors without the awkward veneer of press interview. They can take time to speak on things, while also capturing natural, candid moments. And have the luxury of the entire show being out so they can talk freely about everything!

And I think that a lot is filmed in sequence while a lot is out of order. Scheduling and set use. They're probably editing as scenes are completed, working on effects, etc, reviewing takes. I'm sure anything with the high school for the entirety of the season was filmed all at once because that actual location has now been demolished. So, those scenes can be in the editing stage you'd think. Not to mention all the green screen and soundstage filming - the vfx team is probably working in tandem. It's clockwork, it's a lot overlapping. Working on score.

This is where I want to learn more about the entire process of making a movie. How does is go from raw footage of actors in a physical environmental to a polished piece. I'm greedy and want two separate docs - the details of making a piece of media and the details of the creative storytelling process.

My first fandom was the Hobbit movies and honestly they gave us soooo much amazing content about both ends of the process. We were spoiled with info for that franchise. The filming diaries, the making of / behind the scenes, the heavily detailed concept art and set and costuming books. Young me started off strong in a fandom soooo rich with involved content. Say what you want about those movies but as a fandom nerd - you couldn't ask for a better intro to this industry for insight on making a movie (and its a TV show but Stranger Things films more movie style than TV show).

[meeko-mar]

Okay, you really want to know the difference between the filming process/methods used for LOTR, the LOTR franchise is a self-contained, perfect example of it.

Just remember what Sir Ian Mckellan said about his experience filming The Hobbit trilogy; the lack of human interaction in scenes, the use of greenscreen sets in lew of on location shooting "made him miserable." And he broke down on set where he was talking to an empty room that was meant to be filled with other actors playing Dwarves.

It was the same character and same actor. It was the same franchise. It was even the same direction and the same VFX company(Weta).

The difference was 11-12 years(Return of the King was shot in 2000, and the first Hobbit movie was shot in 2011/12).

In that time, CGI had overtaken the world of filming, and was used in much more dominant amounts in the filming of The Hobbit Trilogy vs. the LOTR. And, as I recall, it's one of the fandom's biggest gripes about the later series(likely right behind the changes to plot and certain characters' involvement in the story).

The same scene that would have been filmed with clever perspective shots in a carefully constructed set of a hobbit hole was replaced with Ian Mckellan in a green room, speaking to green tennis balls.

So yes, there WAS CGI in the LOTR, because there were some things that simply couldn't be scaled up with practical effects and clever camera tricks, obviously... but there is a MARKED difference in the abundance of CGI use just a decade later, in The Hobbit trilogy.

The work that went in to LOTR has always been such an amazing thing to me and I have long been in love with it. The difference is, the CGI in LOTR was used to emphasize all that amazing work that they did practically, physically. It was used as polish and to aid where large scale or very specific things were needed.

In newer movies and productions...It's used as the entire effect, and while that's not necessarily BAD, it makes a difference.

LOTR used some amazing processes that were some of the most fascinating in its time. And I'm glad it was made before Green screens took over absolutely everything.

We’re so lucky they filmed Lord of the Rings when they did. Twenty years later, they would’ve had Viggo Mortensen riding a green bike that they CGI into a horse because that’s better for some reason.

This simple feeling… is beyond Disney’s comprehension.

[practiceuniversepoet]

Dribs N Drabs Prompts - About

So I've modified a list from an old Fanfic 100 and I'm trying to get back into writing more by doing a minimum of 100 words for at least 60 prompts.

It's going to be a mix of different fandoms and most of it will in some way be an alternate universe or otherwise Canon Divergent. In part because It's been a while since I've read or watched the source material and in part because that's how I enjoy playing with fandom.

Eventually I intend to crosspost all of this to my Ao3 Account.

Fandoms I may choose to write in: Danny Phantom, Magic Kaito/Detective Conan, Jim Henson's Labyrinth, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit, Maybe others. Depends on what I feel comfortable with.

Major AUs:

The Danny Phantom Daggerheart: An attempt at world building a Danny Phantom verse using the Daggerheart Open-beta's races and things. It's also a chance for me to play around with anything from tabletop gaming 'cause I've never really been able to and I've always thought it was neat. I'm more of a fanon fan of Danny Phantom, although I have access and will be trying to watch the show again, it's been years since I watched it.

Jazz Masters: An Idea I've been dabbling in which involves a bit of mucking about with timelines for Jazz to be Vlad's daughter. He doesn't even know he's a father and he's terrible at it. I may post what I wrote for it before, but it's all not polished yet.

The prompts are listed below the cut.

Prompts with Green Text are modified or added by me.

Prompts with Red Text are prompts that I initially left off the list because I'm not sure I'm comfortable with them. They've also been moved to the end of the list from their original positions.

Prompts that are Struck Through I've already written for.

Beginnings

Endings

Hours

Days

Weeks

Months

Years

Red

Orange

Yellow

Green

Blue

Purple

Brown

Black

White

Friends

Enemies

Family

Strangers

Teammates

Parents

Children

Sunrise

Sunset

Sixth Sense

Smell

Sound

Touch

Taste

Sight

Circle

Moon

Star

Sun

Heart

Diamond

Club

Water

Fire

Earth

Air

Food

Drink

Winter

Spring

Summer

Fall

Passing

Rain

Snow

Lightening

Thunder

Storm

Broken

Fixed

Light

Dark

Shade

Who?

What?

Where?

When?

Why?

How?

Choices

School

Work

Home

Birthday

New Year

Middles

Insides

Outsides

Colourless

Lovers

Birth

Death

Too Much

Not Enough

Shapes

Triangle

Square

Spade

Spirit

Breakfast

Lunch

Dinner

If

And

He

She

Life

Christmas

Thanksgiving

Independence

Writer's Choice

Writer's Choice

Writer's Choice

Writer's Choice

[v4lyri0n]

hey darlings !! my names ella and i go by v4lyri0n on most if not all socials ♡︎ my pronouns are she/her and im bisexual. im polish and of scottish & ukrainian decent!!

i believe that there should be equality for all people no matter race gender sexuality or political affiliation ( unless ur a bigot ofc )

media is subject || free palestine, sudan & all others suffering || climate action now !!

some fandoms im in are;

• yellowjackets

• lord of the rings ( + the hobbit )

• game of thrones & house of the dragon

• star wars ( excluding comics )

• the walking dead ( currently watching )

• the grisha verse ( soc & shadow and bone )

• the marauders & harry potter

• hannibal

• killing eve

• percy jackson

• peaky blinders

• masters of the air ( idk if there’s a fandom )

• succession

• the bear

and much much more !!

mwuah ♡︎

[lathalea]

Day 15: Boop!

Today's fic for the Writer’s Month 2021 challenge (see @writersmonth for more info) is a request for one of the winners in my latest Majestic Monday sleepover. Hope you'll like it, @justfollowtheroad! Thank you so much 💙

Today's prompt: word: edge | setting: soulmate AU

Imagine living in Erebor at the time of its greatness, with prince Thorin as your... best friend?

Fandom: The Hobbit Relationships: Thorin x Reader Warnings: fluff Rating: G As usual, you can read this fic here and on AO3.

Khuzdul: Mahal - Aule Kaminzabdûna - Yavanna Tahith (endearment) - little giggler Mudtelê - my heart of all hearts

* * *

Boop!

The legend says that Mahal created the Dwarves from the hardest stone in existence to make them the sturdiest of all the races of Arda, but he balanced their nature with the softness of their hearts, pouring love into them. He wanted his children to be as happy as he was with his wife, Kaminzabdûna, so he made two dwarves from each piece of stone. All the seven fathers of Dwarves, including Durin the Deathless, had partners from the very beginning, their soulmates, but it was to be different for their descendants. Each of them had to find their Other Half.

The legend says that when the time is right and their hearts are ready, a mark will appear on the wrists of each couple. It means that on that day they have a chance to discover the identity of their soulmate. Sometimes they would see a glowing aura around their Other Half, sometimes all it took was a touch, other times the world around them would explode with colours, and sometimes they would simply dream of that person. It was different for each couple. If, however, a Dwarf hadn’t found their soulmate on that very day, the mark would disappear forever along with the chances for ever finding your One.

The Great Library was your favourite place in Erebor.

Being surrounded by countless books and scrolls on each and every subject you could think of, by the smell of parchment, herb tea, scented candles and polished wood, was the best feeling in the world. It was not surprising that a bookworm like you would spend as much time as possible in that place. Every evening you would head to the library. This day was no different, with one exception. There was something on your mind and you hoped you could reach the library before Thorin did to gather your thoughts. You would meet him there almost every day if your busy schedules allowed.

Thorin, or as everyone else would call him, Prince Thorin, was your... best friend. Yes, this is how you thought of him. You had been fast friends since before you could remember, and, if you believed what your mothers said, it all began when you were tiny pebbles. Apparently, one day some kid you played with took Mister Prickly from you, the stuffed hedgehog you never parted with.Thorin valiantly rescued your favourite plushie from the kidnapper, even though punching that boy meant a week with no desserts for the young prince. Since then, you had always had each other’s back.

As a kid, you had a few playmates, but no one was as close to you as Thorin and the feeling was mutual. You simply felt best in each other’s company. He was a Dwarf of few words who often seemed too serious for his age due to his duties, and you were a dreamer who sometimes would forget that there was a real world besides the ones you found in your books. Perhaps the reason that your bond survived until now was that you always felt comfortable in each other’s company: you made him smile and forget about his burdens, while he made sure that you spent some time outdoors and was always there for you.

When you reached the library, it turned out that Thorin wasn’t there yet. You sat by the fireplace, on the edge of your favourite armchair and opened a random book, but you couldn’t focus on the words written on its pages. When you thought no one was watching, you uncovered your wrist for a moment. The mark was still there, looking exactly the same as it did when you woke up in the morning. You swallowed nervously. Some dwarves waited for the mark to appear for years after they reached adulthood, and you received yours so incredibly soon after reaching battle age. You often dreamed about this day, wondered who would be your Other Half and what they would look like. There was never any doubt in your mind that you would find that Dwarf immediately. The reality, however, turned out to be different. A greater part of the day had passed, and you still didn’t know how to find them.

The mark on your wrist looked like a hammer and so you spent the day going through all the possibilities in your head. Were you supposed to find your soulmate, your One, in the Engineering Guild? Or maybe in the Forges? Was he a farrier or a carpenter? Or perhaps a member of the elite warrior unit, the Mahal’s Hammer? On the way to the library you even took a short detour and passed through the training grounds and the artisan quarter; you peeked curiously into several armourer’s workshops; you even passed by the southern halls where the stonemasons used their hammers and chisels to carve breathtaking statues from the green-veined stone. There was nothing. No loving glances, no fireworks, no rainbows, no ethereal music.

What would happen if you didn’t find your One on time? Would you be condemned to lead a lonely life, tormented by the thought that you had a chance of happiness and lost it forever?

Thorin’s arrival interrupted your gloomy thoughts. A small smile appeared on your lips as his large frame filled his favourite armchair, next to yours, but he only responded with a nod, his brow furrowed. It seemed that you weren’t the only one who had a lot on their mind.

“Tough day?” you asked, looking at his aquiline profile and the cascades of his damp hair flowing down his broad shoulders clad in a brown rumpled shirt with yellow embroideries.

Thorin grunted in confirmation and tugged at his beard braid, not glancing at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was purposefully avoiding your gaze, but that couldn’t be true, could it? To make matters worse, his fingers drummed on the armrest. You know him too well not to notice how upset he was.

“Lots of work at the forges?” you moved along the edge of your seat, slightly towards him.

“Aye. More than I thought,” Thorin spoke solemnly, as if he was delivering grave news to you.

His eyes studied a bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. He rose as suddenly as he appeared.

“I’d better go.”

“Thorin, what is it?” you stood up as well and took a step towards him.

“Nothing of consequence,” he muttered, looking down, still not meeting your gaze. This was more serious than you thought. He was your best friend and you couldn’t stand idly by while he brooded himself into a dark cloud of gloom. Luckily, you knew exactly what to do.

Before he had the chance to move away, you lifted your hand and pressed your finger against the tip of his nose.

“Boop!” It was all you managed to say, because at the same time the world turned upside down for a blink of an eye.

It was as if a hot current passed through you, a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body, wave after wave, its epicentre in the place where your skin touched Thorin’s. You froze. You felt both hot and cold at the same time, your heart was beating as hard as a hammer against the anvil, some strange sweetness uncoiled in your chest, and you felt as if you were floating in the air. This is when his eyes finally met yours and you felt yourself drowning in the twin azure pools of his gaze. A wave of dizziness washed over you, making you sway.

“Tahith…” Thorin murmured huskily, using your childhood nickname that he was always quite fond of. His arms wrapped around you, steadying you, as if you were a ship on a stormy sea and he was your anchor, your rock.

You held on to him frantically, his shirt crumpled in your fists, noticing the rapid rising and falling of his chest.

“Thorin, what is happening?” you gasped, trying to calm yourself down, dizziness still lingering at the back of your mind.

His throat bobbed and then he did something that he had never done before. His forehead pressed lightly against yours and he gently cupped your cheek. And, to your utter confusion, he smiled widely, his previous sadness gone without a trace.

“I cannot believe it myself,” a small chuckle left his lips. “Tahith, is there perhaps a mark on your wrist?”

“I… How do you know?” You mumbled, but then Thorin’s arms encircled you once more. This time he was pressing you against your chest as if he was worried that you would disappear. You heard laughter budding in his chest and hugged him back, simply because it felt like the only thing you wanted to do. Because it felt right. Thorin murmured into your hair, “Oh, Tahith, you are the smartest person I know, do you truly not know what it means?”

Suddenly it all made sense. All those emotions and sensations, your worries, his brooding. This has to be it.

“Thorin, are you saying that…?” you whispered into his shirt.

“My mark… I noticed in the morning,” he spoke with hints of merriment in his voice as he loosened the embrace to look down at you. “At first, I believed it was a cave mole, so I assumed that my Other Half would be a miner. Mahal, I was such a fool! And so I hated that mark, refused to acknowledge what it meant, I did not even visit the mines!”

“Is that why you were so worried?”

“Aye, and so I went to see you, I wanted to tell you,” he whispered feverishly, his eyes searching your face. “But when I saw you in your chair, sitting with your book, those glasses on your cute nose, I simply stood here, cursing my fate, wishing that my mark would change into a book, but it would not…”

“What is it? Show me,” you took his right hand into your hands as he uncovered his wrist. “Thorin, this is not a cave mole at all!”

“I know, Tahith, I know that now,” he chuckled, sparks of merriment dancing in his eyes.

“How on earth could you confuse Mister Prickly with a cave mole?! I’m deeply offended!” You huffed, faking indignation, while your heart secretly welled with joy.

“I hope both you and Mister Prickly will forgive me one day,” he flashed his teeth at you in a mischievous smile. This was the Thorin you admired the most and, now you finally could admit it to yourself, you adored. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“What about your mark, Tahith?” he asked, placing his hand over your forearm.

“I spent an hour in the southern halls, staring at the stonemasons at work. By now, they probably think I’m some kind of a creep. I’m never showing my face there again and I don’t want to talk about it ever again. Besides, there is a lot of stone dust in my hair,” you grunted, uncovering your wrist.

“A blacksmith’s hammer! But it is certainly not a stonemason’s tool! Look at the heft, and the profile of the head, the surface…” he started explaining enthusiastically, a true blacksmith’s apprentice. His masters would be so proud of him if they could see him now. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t here, their loss. You had Thorin all for yourself and there was something urgent you needed to do; something you secretly dreamed of, but never dared to act upon it until today.

“Thorin,” you gently interrupted his lecture, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in your stomach. “If it all means what I think it means, then… Shouldn’t we do something?” A moment of silence.

“Aye, we should. If you would like to, that is,” Thorin stepped from one foot to another, taking your right hand, the one with the mark, into his. Was it the light from the fireplace or were his cheeks above his beard slightly flushed?

“I… I think I would like to,” you admitted quietly, your voice trembling slightly.

He gave you a nod and slowly lowered his face towards yours. Your nose bumped against his and you giggled, but Thorin wouldn't give up so easily. He tilted his head, not letting go of your hand.

When his lips brushed against yours, that sweet dizzying sensation filled you once again, but this time you were prepared and held onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck, sealing your newfound love with a tender kiss that made you both forget the whole world around you.

“That was��” you murmured when your lips parted and your eyes met. You noticed that there was a new softness in Thorin’s gaze, something that had never been there before; or perhaps something that you had not noticed earlier. A flower of deep affection for the Dwarf in front of you bloomed in your chest and you realized it wasn’t the first one nor the last.

“... yes. Very much,” he agreed with a deep rumble in his chest and brushed his nose against yours. “Your lips are as sweet as honey, Tahith.”

“And your beard tickles,” you replied with a chuckle, pressing your forehead against his. “But I think I like it.”

“You’d better, because you are my One,” he brushed his fingers against your cheek. “And I am afraid that you are stuck both with my beard and me for the rest of our lives.”

“It sounds like a very good plan, Mudtelê,” you whispered and your hearts sang in joyous unison as your lips met again.

* * *

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