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fantasyinallforms · 11 months

Note

Hello fellow bagginshield enjoyer and fantastic author of fanfiction! I offer you part of my nonexistent soul (Bagginshield took it all years ago) for "Roadtrip" for the summer writing prompts, if you feel so inclined. If not totally fine with me!! Much love, -E 🍻

I DO FEEL VERY INCLINED! Thank you for the prompt. 🥰 I took some liberties with the road trip prompt, but I'm very happy with the results, and I hope you are too! It ended up being just shy of 2k.

This was for the FOTFics Summer Prompts event!

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Title- Wrong Path, Right Choice {T}

Bilbo sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. This was not at all how he wanted this trip to go. His GPS told him this was a shortcut through the wooded area. After driving for over an hour and not seeing any sign of…well, anything, he knew he was in trouble. He was only on this road trip because four months of intense writer's block had put a dead stop to his next novel. His editor recommended he take an adventurous holiday to get the juices flowing. Well recommended was a strong word. His editor and cousin Prim had a car and cabin in the mountains booked for him in under a week of his tentative agreement. He had started coming around to the idea as the trip approached. He didn't mind driving, and the scenery between Michel Delving and the Misty Mountains was beautiful. However, 30 hours in a car is still 30 hours in a car, and a lot can go wrong in that time. Like right now as he sat at the side of the road in a steaming car that would not start. Not that he wanted to try after the sound it made right before it died. The icing on top of the cake…no cell service.

Bilbo got out of the car and did a cursory inspection of the vehicle. He couldn't tell you what he was looking for, but it seemed better (and maybe safer) than sitting in the car. Eventually, he just kicked the tire and sat on the trunk with his head in his hands. He had surprisingly little time to wallow in his misery when a beat-up dark blue truck pulled up behind him. Bilbo tensed.

"Hey, are you alright?" He was not expecting to hear a low, gruff baritone voice, and it temporarily shocked him out of his suspicion.

"Yes, I'm fine. I don't know if I can say the same for the car." The man stepped fully out of the truck, and the look of him made Bilbo falter. He was very attractive. He had long silver-streaked black hair currently spilling out of a messy bun. He was big with broad shoulders and a stern disposition. Very fit but not in a bodybuilder way, more in a practical way. Bilbo looked back at the still-steaming engine to hide the shock and blush on his face.

"Have you called a tow truck for it yet?" Bilbo couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just not a conversationalist. He sounded very matter-of-fact. He waited to hear Bilbo's explanation of no cell service before ducking his head back into the truck. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield, by the way.” He placed what looked like an odd walkie-talkie in his lap and walked to the front of the car to pop the hood. Bilbo was distracted by the way Thorin’s muscles seemed to ripple under the very thin shirt he was wearing. He sat there stupidly for a moment until he remembered himself.

“I’m Bilbo…..Baggins! Bilbo Baggins. Thank you for this?” He held up the little phone. “I’m not sure what it is or how to use it, however.” He felt the weight on the car shift as Thorin walked back around.

“It’s a satellite phone. You should be able to use it like any regular handheld phone.” Bilbo was getting a little agitated by the man's clipped tone.

“Well, thank you, but I don't have the number for a tow truck memorized.” Bilbo held the phone back to him with perhaps a little more attitude than usual. This was already a trying day, and his patience was thin enough already without being made to look the fool.

“Press and hold three, that should call the forestry service. Tell them you’re half a mile past road marker 14 on the River Running Crossroad.” Thorin returned to his truck as Bilbo made the call. Twenty minutes and a frankly ridiculous amount of money later, a tow truck was on its way. The ETA was two hours. Bilbo let out a long-suffering sigh and leaned back onto the car's back windshield. He heard Thorin laugh for the first time since meeting him and sat back up. His annoyance overcame his manners, and he snapped a little.

“I very much appreciate your assistance Mr. Oakenshield, but I’m not in the mood to be laughed at.” Bilbo hopped off the trunk and pushed the phone into Thorin’s chest. “You can go back to wherever it is you live and pat yourself on the back for your good samaritan work for the day.”

“Let me guess. It’ll take two hours for the truck to arrive, and it costs three times as much as you thought it might.” Thorin sounded very sure of himself.

“I…Yes,” Bilbo replied sourly.

“Well, come on then, you might as well wait in the back of the truck. Better than standing around.” Thorin started walking back towards his truck.

“Wait! You’re not leaving?” Despite his outburst, there was a pinch of relief in his voice. He was surrounded by dense trees on both sides of him, and if he was being honest, he had absolutely no idea where he was.

“It’ll be dark in less than an hour. Would you rather I left?” His voice conveyed he knew exactly what his response would be, and he scrambled over to the truck bed. He looked at it wearily. He had just met this mysterious mountain man and was apprehensive about climbing into a truck with him, regardless of how unbelievably attractive he was.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve noticed there are not a lot of people on this road. Why were you on it?” Thorin had the gall to look amused.

“What were you doing on a forestry road? When Bilbo didn't answer, he replied to his first question, “Look up and northeast of here to your left. That’s a fire watch tower. My tower. You’re not the first to turn off on this road and break down. Most people stick to the Greenway, but an unlucky few split off.”

“Wait, so you live up there?” Bilbo had to admit a place in the middle of nowhere with peace and quiet for weeks sounded like a dream. It intrigued him enough that he made to climb into the truck only to realize that no matter how you sliced it, he was far too short to climb into the back with any level of grace. He looked nervously at Thorin, who lost none of his previous amusement. In one effortless swoop, he picked up Bilbo by the hips and sat him on the tailgate before climbing in after him.

“I live there half the year. I’m a fire lookout.”

“Doesn't that get lonely?”

“Not on days like this when I have people to rescue from their own bad decisions.” Thorin winked and reached into what Bilbo thought was a toolbox. “Soda?” Bilbo took the offered can and broke into a laugh.

“Arnt you supposed to offer me a beer in a time like this?” He popped the tab and was grateful for anything to drink. He was incredibly thirsty, and this was caramel-colored gold.

“Can't drink on the job,” Thorin replied, opening his own can and settling against the cooler with his legs stretched in front of him. Bilbo fiddled with his can. So was helping because he was obligated to do so. He had to admit he found that a little disappointing. They just sat and drank in comfortable silence, listing to the sounds of descending night. Soon it was pitch black outside, with the only light source being the stars overhead and the sliver of moon that could be seen in the sky. Bilbo leaned back and marveled at the sky. The last time he had seen so many stars was at his childhood home. He could still remember his father pointing out the constellations and his mother telling him their stories. He could almost forget he was sitting on the side of the road. Almost, until Thorin moved to sit next to him, the hard line of his body pressed against his side.

“The stars are clearer here than at home. Like someone painted them across the night sky.”

“That sounds like it came from a book,” Thorin commented.

Bilbo chuckled, “Maybe it will one day if I have something to say about it.”

“So you’re a writer then?” Thorin asked. Bilbo shook his head yes.

“Fantasy novels. Nothing so interesting as your job, but I love it.” Bilbo kept his eyes on the sky as he said it. “You must meet a lot of people in half a year. Do you make it a habit of sitting with all the people you rescue until the tow truck comes?”

“Only the cute ones.” Thorin teased. Bilbo’s face turned scarlet, and he was grateful the darkness covered the blush on his face.

“I bet you say that to all the cute boys you rescue.”

“I do,” Thorin replied. Bilbo tensed a little involuntarily. “Which would bring my grand total to one.” When Bilbo turned his head to look at Thorin, and found his face incredibly near. “Unless that’s a ridiculous thing to say, in which case we can just go back to looking at stars.” Bilbo was not someone who took spontaneous leaps, but isn't that what this road trip was supposed to be about? He was starting to grow a sense of adventure. Hoping this wasn't a mistake, he closed the distance between them. Thorin made a surprised sound and quickly recovered until his hands were wrapped around his waist. This man was a good kisser. Bilbo had never been held more gingerly and solidly than in this moment. His hands found their way into the mane of hair on Thorin's head, pulling it out of the tie used to pull it back. He was practically in Thorin’s lap, now enjoying being lavished with deep kisses and soft touches. They made out in the back of the truck for about 10 minutes before the blinding light of the tow truck illuminated them. Bilbo groaned in disappointment. Thorin chuckled and affectionately smoothed the curls that had fallen into his face behind his head. He gave one last little peck before getting up and helping him out of the truck. Thorin went to speak to the truck driver, and Bilbo got all his necessities out of the trunk.

“Alright, here is a receipt and a number to call tomorrow. Let me know if you’re riding with me or your friend here.” He took the receipt and walked back over to Thorin.

“Thank you for all your help and for…. He fumbled for the right words, and they never came. Here’s where I’m staying and my number if you’re curious or….” Bilbo was getting frustrated with his inability to form sentences. “Thank you for passing the time with me.” He decided to leave his embarrassing fumbling to that and turned to leave. A hand caught him around the forearm, and he stopped.

“It takes two hours to get to the service station and only 45 minutes to the fire watch station. It’s getting pretty late, and you haven't even had dinner. I could take you to the service station in the morning. If that’s something you want?” Thorin’s face looked so hopeful, and Bilbo’s chest swelled. He shook his head in agreement, and Thorin beamed. The duffle bag in his hands was taken from him and thrown into the truck bed.

“Hey, Bofur!” The truck driver looked up. “He won't need a ride!” The driver just gave a thumbs-up and a chuckle. They watched the tow truck pull away into the distance, and Bilbo climbed into Thorin's pickup.

So what if he never ended up making it to that cabin Prim booked. This was a much more interesting adventure.

~~~~~~~

I might post this one on AO3, idk yet. All of my drabbles will get posted at some point.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thilbo #thorin oakenshield #bilbo x thorin #summer stories #fotfics #FIAF(me)fics

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lordoftherazzles · 2 years

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for the August summer theme challenge —

how’s about “field of daisies?” perhaps either Ed/Stede or Thorin/Bilbo go on a little picnic 🥹 inspired by the pic below lol

YES!! So sorry this took me a hot second, but I absolutely adore this prompt, and the picture really put it together for me. I hope you enjoy some nice loving Bagginshield.

I'm linking the prompt lists below for each week, if there's one you want to see, let me know!!

-> Summer Stories (Week 1) -> Summer Stories (Week 2) -> Summer Stories (Week 3)

A Field of Daisies

“Tell me again where we’re going?” Bilbo asked curiously, tilting his head to the side as he kept in stride with Thorin, who had been suspiciously tight-lipped about the afternoon’s events. It wouldn’t have bothered Bilbo, or even seemed out of character, if Thorin hadn’t been stifling a grin the entire time since they’d set foot out of the mountain.

It was one of those looks that Bilbo expected from Fili and Kili when they were up to no good–not their uncle, who just so happened to be a respectable king nowadays.

“If I told you that would ruin the surprise,” Thorin commented softly, finally not fighting the urge to just grin widely as his hand moved to find Bilbo’s, lacing their fingers together and giving the hobbit’s hand a small squeeze.

“You’ve been acting squirrely all morning, so if you think you’ve been subtle, you’re wrong.” Not that Bilbo was going to complain about their current arrangement. Walking hand in hand away from the mountain entrance and towards the side. A place that was often hit by sunlight and yet shaded by trees. It was a place Bilbo had wandered through a time or two since the snow had melted from the past winter. A winter that had been more than stressful with Thorin’s recovery, as well as the recovery of Fili and Kili–and nevermind the coronation, or dealing with Dain’s dwarves for an extended period. It had just been a long past few months.

“Just play along then,” Thorin urged, squeezing Bilbo’s hand as the ground beneath them morphed from dirt and rock to grass and a few buds beginning to bloom with the spring season. “For me, Kurdûn.”

And Bilbo always managed to get goosebumps anytime Thorin spoke those foreign words of his. There was something rough and tough about them, but also soft and sweet in which they were spoken, and one day the hobbit was determined to find out exactly what they meant without Thorin side-stepping the questions he asked. “Fine, I’ll play along. Do you want an over-the-top reaction? Or something more subtle? I can manage either.” After all, false niceties in the Shire were not an uncommon thing.

“Whatever your heart desires, now, close your eyes.”

Bilbo’s feet came to a halt, forcing Thorin to halt in the process. “Fili and Kili have done this to me before. You’re going to lead me around and purposely knock me into things…and if I end up with a bucket of water over my head, nothing will stop me from twisting your beard, Thorin Oakenshield–”

As Thorin laughed, something akin to a cackle, Bilbo’s lower lip jutted out in a pout, but also confusion.

“Just close your eyes, I promise, nothing bad will happen to you. You just have to trust me…”

The fact of the matter was that Bilbo did trust Thorin, and with that came his compliance. He’d closed his eyes and allowed the dwarf to guide him along, which was rather impressive. Thorin had warned him of the little things–fallen logs, a dip in the ground, anything that might have made Bilbo falter if not given the warning.

“Are we almost there?”

“Yes, you can open your eyes now.”

Those hazel eyes opened, adjusting to the sunlight once more to reveal a field of daisies, far more than Bilbo would have ever imagined this far away from the Shire. A field shaded by a large tree, and for a moment it felt like he was back home. His heart burned with a yearning to just drop into the field and stare at the sky and tree branches that would be hanging overhead. To get a dose of home and feel rejuvenated. Much as he loved these dwarves, a life surrounded by stone had started to get to him, making Bilbo feel a little isolated–like a flower that craved sunlight to survive but never received the necessary rays.

“I’d never imagined there would be so many flowers so close to Erebor…” Bilbo breathed, squeezing Thorin’s hand in return only to pry his eyes away from the cozy-looking field to stare at the dwarf who’d brought him here. “How did you…?”

“An act of nature, perhaps a blessing by your Yavanna. I like to think of it as a gift from her to Mahal, a way to make them feel closer even in our part of the world.” To combine flowers and the mountainside, sounded rather poetic when thinking of what seemed to define both dwarves and hobbits. “Did you look closely beneath that tree?”

As Bilbo’s head jerked back to look towards the base of that thick tree, the hobbit wiggled his hand away from Thorin’s, jogging over to look at the quilt that had been laid out. It was all too familiar to him and made that burning in his chest ignite even more. “That’s Belladonna’s old quilt…” One that Bilbo had left home safely in his smial. And upon that quilt was a basket stuffed full of food that was reminiscent of the Shire–Bilbo’s nose could pick apart those particular scents anywhere, even among a field of daisies.

“I know you’ve been missing home, I know the feeling. Your heart aches for it, needs it, and while I cannot physically move the Shire closer, I figured…I could bring a little bit of it to you if anything.”

Bilbo sank to his knees, pressing his hands into the fabric of that quilt made many years ago as his eyes grew a tad misty. It was such an incredibly sweet gesture, and there were so many questions as to how Thorin had managed to pull all of these strings, but if there was one thing that Bilbo had learned over the course of his journey with these dwarves, it was that when one, especially Thorin, set his mind to something, it would happen.

“Bilbo? Are you alright?” Thorin had been watching carefully, watching Bilbo’s shoulders rise and fall, to sink into something of both relaxation and disbelief–it was the same feeling that had moved through Thorin upon setting foot within Erebor again. It was overwhelming, exciting, and emotional. It brought a softer curve to the dwarf’s lips as he approached, careful to keep his boots away from that quilt he’d had sent over with a caravan from the Blue Mountains. “I hope everything is to your liking, Kurdûn.”

“I’m just–I can’t–” Bilbo was struggling to find the words as his eyes gazed up towards Thorin, misty and hopeful as his hand shot up to tug Thorin down to the quilt, paying no mind to any dirty boots or a few crushed flowers around them. With his hand still firmly gripped into Thorin’s coat, Bilbo used it as leverage to pull himself closer to the dwarf, pressing his lips to that of the king who held his entire heart. “Thank you.” Two simple words breathed out against Thorin’s lips upon pulling back, but for once, Bilbo was rendered into a rather speechless state.

It was just the reaction that Thorin had been hoping for, and perhaps even more! To put someone like Bilbo–sharp and witted tongued Bilbo–into that state of silence, it felt like a grand achievement more unobtainable than winning back the mountain. And yet, much like the mountain, here Thorin had managed it with a swell of pride in his chest. “Anything for you, love.”

And for a field of daisies to be the backdrop? Well, that had just been luck–a gift by Yavanna herself, for there was an abundance of loyalty and love between Thorin and Bilbo, which was exactly the message that these little flowers signified. It was a message that rang loud and clear to the hobbit who deserved this and so much more, and Thorin couldn’t wait to spoil him with every opportunity he had.

But first…a Shire-style picnic beneath the budding tree leaves overhead and within a field of daisies.

#bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #thorin x bilbo #razzledrabbles #razzywrites #summer stories

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i-did-not-mean-to · 11 months

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Week 4

Here we go for the last week of @fellowshipofthefics July Summer Stories.

As before, you can combine these prompts with the Summer of Cum prompts.

-> Masterlist of previous weeks

Please feel free to send in your chosen prompt and a pairing you'd like to see.

Lots of love!

#og post #fanfiction #fotfics july event #Summer Stories #Week 4 #promo post #IDNMT writes #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt

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ahufflepuffhobbit · 2 years

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Campfire ghost stories for the summer stories, pretty please?! 💜💜💜

Ooooh, this one will be hard. I don't typically do ghost stories, actual stories or within them XD

Sitting around the campfire every night was both his favorite and least favorite part of the journey so far. Especially after he and Thorin had their hug on top of the Carrock. It was a truce, and it allowed Bilbo to sit closer to the dwarf King in the evenings as he had been wanting since he ran out his door.

However, even sitting next to Thorin did not make Bofur's ghost story easier to hear. He had thought that he had heard ghost stories before - exchanging them around a campfire was common enough for hobbits. But their ghost stories were about spirits who played tricks and stole their food, despite not being able to eat it themselves. Not about spirits that could cause actual death and hated the living.

Bilbo gave another shiver as he tried not to listen too much. He didn't want to leave, was the problem. He might have, before, but now, he had the warmth on his right side from Thorin's body, and it was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Not even Bofur's gruesome story could take him away from this.

Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt an arm descend on his shoulders. Not just any arm - Thorin's. As soon as he realized, Bilbo relaxed before he shot Thorin a curious look. The dwarf pulled him closer and then dropped his head so he could whispered in Bilbo's ear. "I know you do not enjoy the ghost stories. I will not let anything happen to you."

Warmth suffused Bilbo's chest and he smiled to himself. Maybe he should have argued, tried to prove that he wasn't actually scared or that the stories didn't impact him. Maybe. But then Thorin's warmth would leave him, and it really was everything he had wanted up until now.

Bilbo shifted slightly and draped his legs over Thorin's so he was sitting sideways in the dwarf's embrace. Thorin hesitated for a second before he rested his hand on Bilbo's calf and tugged him even closer, which Bilbo didn't think was possible. He was sure he would be embarrassed tomorrow - he was practically sitting in Thorin's lap! - but right now he couldn't care. He was warm, and he felt safe. "Thank you, Thorin." His words were quiet as Bofur droned on.

"Anything for you, Burglar."

#bagginshield #my fic stuff #summer stories #week 3 #fotfics

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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For the fotfics august event, you mentioned this one to me already, but I wanna see what you'd do with "Take Me Out to the Ball Park" please!!

Yes! I'm finally happy with this. 😎 Only a week late, but whatcha gonna do?

Small Warning for homophobic behavior from the trolls. (But they get what they deserve so it's all good in the end.)

You sure you don’t want a ball cap?

Bilbo bit his lip to suppress his grin as he typed back his reply.

Can you imagine my curls with a cap?

…

Noted. T-shirt? Novelty baseball bat?

How about you just get me a hotdog and a coke and I’ll be good.

Bilbo received a thumbs up emoji, and he settled his phone back on his lap staring out apathetically at the dirt diamond. A baseball game was not anywhere in Bilbo’s top ten dates, but Thorin’s friend was playing, and he asked Bilbo if he wanted to join. This was only their third date so of course Bilbo was still in the stage of agreeing to anything in order to spend more time with Thorin. However, as the sun seemed to beat down upon him even from his seat shaded by the stand above, Bilbo was planning out all the air-conditioned museum and art exhibits he could get Thorin back with. He really hoped this wasn’t a norm.

He supposed he should have expected it. After all, he met Thorin when the man was jogging through the park and just so happened to run into Bilbo…literally. With a book in front of his face, he hadn’t been paying very good attention and stepped out in front of Thorin. A mild argument and a couple of apologetic coffees later, Bilbo found himself with the taller man’s number. It’s been fun, but Bilbo was also painfully aware of just how much they don’t have in common in moments like this.

“Hey! Fancy-Pants! You get lost somewhere? This ain’t a concert.”

Bilbo glared at the man next to him as he gulped down his third cheap beer since they had taken his seat. He would imagine he had a few more prior to the start of the game.

“Well isn’t that a shame. At least then there would be something to drown out your mouth.”

“What was that?!” He demanded getting to his feet.

Bilbo flinched, becoming very nervous at the clearly unstable man as his two buddies tried to pull him back down.

“Leave off, Bill!”

“Yeah, the twink isn’t worth it.”

Now Bilbo was offended for a whole different reason. However, before his mouth could run away again and make this worse, a hand appeared on his shoulder. Bilbo looked up to see Thorin had returned.

“Everything alright?” He questioned, his eyes hard and focused on Bill.

Clearly, while Bilbo seemed to be an easy target, the big oaf wasn’t about to tangle with Thorin. He took his seat again, grumbling under his breath. Thorin finally looked over at Bilbo, cocking his head to indicate Bilbo should scoot over a seat. Only too happy to comply, he and Thorin quickly changed places. There was a brief awkward moment before Thorin broke it by handing over Bilbo’s concessions.

“I didn’t know ketchup or mustard so I brought back packets of each.” He offered.

“Oh! Thank you. Actually, I’m more of a relish man.”

Thorin winced before hiding it with a chuckle. “Of course. It’s always the one I don’t think of.”

“But ketchup will be just fine. Thank you.” Bilbo assured, leaning over to kiss Thorin’s cheek.

Thorin ducked his head, as his eyes slid over to Bilbo. It was one of the most endearing things about Thorin. How a man that ridiculously handsome can somehow be so soft and shy. Bilbo could catch Bill and his buddies disgruntled looks and chose to ignore them.

“So what did I miss?” He asked.

“Umm?”

Bilbo scanned the scoreboard, but there hadn’t been any additional runs and he wasn’t sure whether the two outs were from the previous inning. Thorin, realizing that he had no clue, reached over to give Bilbo’s hand a quick squeeze.

“After Dwalin’s next at bat, what do you say we ditch?”

Bilbo blinked a few times, his jaw dropping just slightly. “Really? You don’t want to watch the rest of the game?”

“Nah.” Thorin waved away his concern. “To be honest, baseball isn’t really my thing. As far as sports go, I’ll watch football on TV and not American football. But that’s about it. I actually like to fence. Is that too nerdy?”

Bilbo gave him a soft smile. “Not at all.”

“Oi! Guess who’s the real Twinkle Toes here!” Bill pointed out, laughing hysterically at his own joke.

Thorin rolled his eyes with a frown in place as he pulled out his phone and started typing. Bilbo glared at Bill for ruining what could have been a nice conversation between them as he settled deeper into his uncomfortable, plastic seat with his arms crossed. He really hoped Dwalin was getting close to being ‘at bat’ so he and Thorin could finally get out of there. Thorin smirked down at his phone before locking it and sliding it into his pocket. He settled back into his seat letting his arm drape around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“I think you’re going to like this next part.” He whispered in Bilbo’s ear.

Bilbo turned to him and raised an eyebrow. However, Thorin’s smirk made it apparent he wasn’t about to give anything else away.

“And now batting for the Lonely Mountains, give it up for Dwalin Fundinson!”

Thorin removed his arm to clap and cheer for his friend which prompted Bilbo to clap along politely as well. The tall, bearded man looked over to where they were sitting behind the dugout to give a mini salute and smirk aimed right at Thorin. Bilbo narrowed his eyes at his date suspiciously. Thorin only gave a far too innocent shrug. Something was clearly going on. The first pitch was a ball, the second one Dwalin swung and missed. It was the third pitch where Bilbo got to see their plan in motion.

“Hey Bill!” Thorin called out.

“Wot?” The other man sneered.

While he wasn’t looking, Dwalin hit the ball right over into their direction and it bounced off the top of Bill’s shining skull, hitting his two friends as well, before landing in Thorin’s palm.

“Oooh, that’s gotta hurt!” The announcer winced sympathetically.

“You gotta be more careful, Mate.” Thorin remarked over Bill and company’s grunts of pain. “Try being a little more ‘twinkle toes’ and maybe you can avoid foul balls in the future.”

The crowd around them who seemed to have also been done with Bill’s commentary laughed along as Thorin handed the ball over to Bilbo as a souvenir. Bilbo looked up to see Dwalin nod and smirk at him before going back up to the plate. Bilbo felt a smile begin to split his own face.

“You ready to beat it?” Thorin asked him.

“I don’t know.” Bilbo admitted. “I’m almost beginning to like baseball.”

#sunny's drabbles #summer stories #bagginshield #ignore physics of baseball for this fic please

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aterimber · 9 months

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Like reading?

Then do I have some good news for you!

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rebfile · 5 months

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In a realm kissed by the dusky sunset, where the sands whispered secrets to the retreating waves, she walked - a silhouette of grace against the palette of the fading day. The ocean hummed its eternal ballad, a serenade to the twinkling stars soon to claim the sky, but it was her laughter, light and carefree, that danced upon the breeze.

She twirled, arms aloft, inviting the world to partake in her joy, to spin in the golden glow of the dwindling sun. Her eyes, alight with mischief, held stories untold; her smile, a curve wrought from the very essence of summer, seemed to pull at the corners of the universe itself. The wind, enamored, played gently with her hair, strings of ebony crafted into an artful dance above her head, adorned with a singular golden ornament - a memento of moments cherished, of whispers shared beneath a canopy of stars.

Her dress, a cascade of tropical blooms, clung to her form, a testament to the island's vibrant heart, its colors a mirror to the sunset's own splendor. With every step, the sands shifted, willing to bear the imprint of her presence, even if only for a fleeting breath of time.

She paused, a statuesque beacon against the canvas of nature's masterpiece, her gaze cast over a shoulder that bore the warmth of the sun's last ray. There was an invitation in her glance, an unspoken challenge to break free from the chains of the mundane, to dive into the depths of this ephemeral, glowing world. And for a moment, just a single, stretching heartbeat, those who beheld her felt the stirrings of adventure, the pull of the untamed, the desire to join her in embracing the wild call of the horizon.

As the sun dipped beneath the line that divided sea from sky, her form became part of the landscape, a memory etched in hues of amber and rose, a story waiting to be told.

#sunset #beach vibes #summer stories #tropical beauty #carefree joy #ocean melody #silhouette #dusk #twilight adventure #fashion #animated character #digital art

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fellowshipofthefics · 11 months

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Happy Summer, Fellowship! ☀️

We hope you are enjoying your summer, as well as these Summer Stories prompts! Here comes our next batch of prompts, and we are so excited to see what you do with them! Also, be sure to check out the prior prompts, and if inspiration strikes you, do them! There is no time constraint on these, it’s all for fun!

→ July 1st - 8th Prompts

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July 9th - 15th Prompts

Ice-cold drinks

Summer festival

Campfire

Picnics

Shade

#fotfics #summer stories #fotfics july event #july prompts

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cilil · 9 months

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Summer Stories '23

Author's Note: A small gift for @mirkwood-hr-department, inspired by an idea @melkors-defense-attorney shared the other day. Hope you enjoy! If you like this ship, please have a look at "Nothing gold can stay" by @mirkwood-hr-department, I really loved their dynamic in this fic <3

Character(s): Glorfindel x Thranduil | Stargazing

Synopsis: Before the War of the Last Alliance, Glorfindel and Thranduil spend the night together.

Warnings: /

They lay under the stars together, exhausted after a night of passion, listening to the gentle sound of wind, grass and each other's breath.

"Are you afraid?"

It was Thranduil who broke the silence, propping himself up on his elbow as he rolled over on his side. Glorfindel turned his head to look at him, mesmerised once more by the silver glow of his hair in the moonlight.

Beautiful.

"I suppose not," he answered after a moment of contemplation. "I have... been in quite a few battles."

Thranduil nodded slowly.

"I am not afraid either," he said before Glorfindel could ask him in return. "Though... I do wonder..."

"What?"

Their eyes met, and they stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

"I wonder if I will see you again. After everything, I mean."

Glorfindel smiled softly. He knew, just as his companion did, what remained unspoken between them – that either or both of them could fall in battle against the forces of Mordor, no matter how strong they were. Yet in the past he had fought battles more hopeless than this one, and he had known defeat as well. His own death he didn't fear, but the worry for his comrades and brothers-in-arms was like an old wound that pained him every time.

He sat up and reached out to caress Thranduil's cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

"See the sky above?" Glorfindel whispered. "No matter what happens, one day we will meet again under the same stars."

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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#thranduil #glorfindel #glorfindel x thranduil #glorfinduil #elves #second age #drabble #double drabble #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien #lotr #lotr fanfic #cílil writes #my writing #summer stories

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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So…how about the Company down by the river…Splashing? 👀

So, I have to rest still today...but I've managed to write a little something for you...

True to my word, I made it a Bagginshield one lol

(Happy Late Bday - I felt so bad for not having written you anything in return)

And I hope you like this <3

Down by the river

Words: 1,7 k

Warnings: Slight nudity

Characters: Bagginshield

Hey.

Bilbo put the phone down on the kitchen counter and stared at it – utterly puzzled – for a long moment; was he supposed to reply to this kind of vacuous message or was he to wait for the follow-up?

Interrupting and sounding too eager was certainly unfortunate but holding back an expected reply was downright rude and so, Bilbo found himself writhing in the limbo of dubious social conventions.

When the three dancing dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, he all but sighed with relief, bending over the device impatiently to see what further information Thorin would provide.

A fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the recollection of just how strange and wonderful life could sometimes be; he had been idly playing with the mere thought of switching things up in his life and law practice when change – monumental and irreversible – had swallowed him like an avalanche before spitting him out in a very different spot from whence he could truly appreciate the shift in perspective that had crept in.

Indeed, just as he had almost made up his mind, an old friend by the name of Gandalf had shoved a case his way that had just been too juicy to reject and that was how he had first met Thorin and his ragtag band of misfits. Suffice it to say that – due to his brilliance and sometimes slightly unorthodox way of thinking – Bilbo had ultimately won their home and possessions back and had thought that he was very well-seen indeed amongst the strange men he had grown to cherish so.

The enthusiasm of victory had slowly been replaced by a quiet, nagging feeling of dread though; now that the case was over, he was afraid that they’d just move on with their life and forget all about the prim and proper lawyer they had no use for anymore.

Want to come down to the river with us?

Thorin didn’t often bother with emoticons to lend more depth to his tone and make his intentions clearer, much to the dismay of one Bilbo B. who was twiddling his thumbs nervously; it went against his professional ethic to have a crush on a client but – as Thorin was his customer no more – he wondered if he should maybe cut himself some slack where the tall, dark, handsome brute he had spent days and nights with during their reconquest of Erebor Inc. was concerned.

It was statistically never a good sign when Bilbo started to question and wonder though, for it generally meant that some tremendous upheaval was lurking just around the corner and – already – he could sense the thrumming anticipation running through his veins like bouts of thunder and lightning.

Sure. When and where?

If his thumb missed a few letters on the first try, it was surely due to his discomfort in this ambiguous social situation and not at all linked to the idea of seeing the revered CEO of the newly reclaimed Erebor Inc. shirtless; Bilbo had never been and would never be the kind of man to debase himself or others in such a callous, reprehensible way. No way!

And – just to prove this point, made in private and only known to his own self – he spent the time left to him before he had to leave with assiduous preparations. He dug out his best casual linen suit and ironed it diligently, he chose an airy cotton shirt – which unfortunately turned out to be too see-through to be worn without a pristine undershirt – after comparing several to the now impeccable suit, and he even threw together a nice, light picnic.

There were aspects and facets to Bilbo that Thorin had no idea of yet and he was eager to let him glimpse just how good of a baker he was for example; the fact that he knew himself to look really dapper in the chosen outfit of the day was – according to his own assessment of the situation – of minor importance though.

Whistling cheerfully, he left his little cottage, feeling on top of the world.

Bilbo arrived – as was polite and appropriate – exactly 5 minutes early which gave him the time to give his rebellious curls a warning pat before strolling towards the river, picnic basket safely wedged in the crook of his elbow, to make his timely entrance.

“Bilbo!”

Fíli and Kíli – Thorin’s nephews – came running towards him and the so enthusiastically addressed lawyer took a step back – startled by the shocking lack of clothing displayed by them – before nodding awkwardly.

He had believed this river excursion to turn out much more Edwardian in essence – white cloth spread out on green grass, sun umbrellas, and pleasant conversation – and resemble a rowdy teenage get-away much less; he had been sorely mistaken in that prognosis, he realised as soon as he stepped closer and found most, if not all, of his friends in various stages of undress.

The older gentlemen were soaking up the sun like lizards, their heavy-lidded eyes drifting slowly towards Bilbo’s approaching form, while the younger generation seemed hell-bent on cracking open their precious skulls by performing various tricky – and in his opinion rather reckless – leaps into the clear waters of the roaring river.

“Oh hey, Mister Bilbo,” Ori called, his slender shoulders already treacherously pink in the blazing sun and cheerfully waved his scrawny arm like a speckled birch branch that shimmered like marble in the sparkling reflections of the stream, “how good of you to join us.”

Again, all Bilbo could do was nod politely; he felt silly in his overly formal apparel, now that he saw that the others were lounging about haphazardly without a care in the world about propriety or style.

Chaos – a microcosm of its own if one asked him – followed them wherever they went, Bilbo knew, hence why he was less distraught than he ought to have been upon catching sight of several potential fire hazards amongst the piles of food, clothes, and mysterious paraphernalia he could not quite place in this very moment.

“Bilbo,” Thorin waded through the water, ploughing towards him like an angry bull, all bunching muscles and wet hair; Bilbo’s mouth immediately went as dry as if he had been standing in a desert rather than in a luscious meadow.

“I was on time,” he croaked awkwardly, giving his little basket a shake as if that proved anything; as far as he remembered – just a moment too late – the wicker container was not a timepiece and would not offer up any proof supporting his words.

“Oh,” Thorin laughed heartily, “it was not a firm appointment. I see you’ve gone through some trouble about your wardrobe.”

Bilbo sighed in annoyance; he increasingly felt like a fool and this sensation was only exacerbated by the gentle teasing lapping against his ears like the current made the half-naked company sway to and fro gently.

“Do you even know how to swim?” Kíli jeered as he clambered onto his brother’s shoulders to enter into a puerile fight against Ori, firmly ensconced in Dwalin’s iron grip. Bilbo had never seen the secretary’s face look so radiant and overtly taunting before and somehow the raucous fun everyone seemed to be having only made him feel more ridiculous and left out by the second.

“Of course,” he snapped; there was but one solution to this conundrum: he would have to swallow his pride and join their merriment – ill-prepared and awkward as he was - and so, he undressed quickly and folded his suit and nice shirt into a neat pile on the grass.

“You’ll see,” he declared – his head held high – and plunged into the wet paradise without looking back.

“Bilbo!” Thorin cried out in shock and amazement; this afternoon was not going according to plan at all, and he resented himself for making his guest of honour feel foolish. His sister – upon hearing of his abject failure – would no doubt remind him of how woefully underdeveloped his texting skills were, and, for once, Thorin would absolutely agree with her wise counsel to work on it more dutifully.

Hastening after the handsome lawyer as he was cleaving the waves in precise strokes, he, unfortunately, slipped on a stone and found himself going down rather inelegantly in a great splash that drew the attention of everyone around.

As he came up though – spluttering and coughing – those warm hazel eyes, shining brightly under wet locks adorned by thousands of ephemeral diamonds, met his own with gentle indulgence while hooting and laughter surged in dashes and waves in the background.

“Now that I’ve defended my honour,” Bilbo said softly, “would you care for some blueberry pie?”

Shamefaced and sheepish, Thorin quietly followed the man he had so wanted to woo; deep admiration blossomed in his chest as he watched Bilbo – barefoot and torturously appealing in his wet underwear clinging to his very skin – spread out a blanket and unpack a whole feast upon it.

“That’s what I had had in mind,” Bilbo muttered, a bit embarrassed himself now upon seeing the odd gleam in that flashing, azure gaze that flicked back and forth rapidly between his face and the offered delicacies.

“It’s perfect,” Thorin replied, “I wish I had thought of something that refined and stylish.”

With a chiding chortle, Bilbo settled down on the blanket and patted the spot beside him. “Come sit with me,” he invited, “we’ll dry faster if we can make use of our body heat.”

As he saw the sun turn those curls into a fire of gold and amber, Thorin sighed deeply; he was about to go out on a limb here and he was not eager to fall on his face twice in a single day.

Nonetheless, he needed to try and repair the damage done if he ever wanted to even stand a chance of wooing and winning Bilbo.

Someone won the fight in the river, and someone else lost…curses resounded, and laughter washed away the anger, but – at this moment – Thorin could not have cared less about the trials and tribulations of his kin and friends.

“Sweet,” he commented in a low, passionate voice.

“The pie?” Bilbo cocked an eyebrow at him; even this tiny compliment made his ears grow warm with pleasure.

“Oh yes,” Thorin replied with a smirk, “that too.”

Soooo...there we have it...Splashing, the company, it starts with a text...

I have done my best and I hope this will make you smile a little :D

Lots of love from me <3

#fotfics #summer stories #week 1 #Bagginshield #Sunny's prompt #Splashin #writing #fanfiction #the hobbit #Thorin #Bilbo #Thilbo #Thorin x Bilbo #water #river #innuendo #find the Easter egg

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ahufflepuffhobbit · 2 years

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Just because I want to know what someone will do with this one: grasshoppers 😎

This is late! But! I'm still doing it XD I hope you enjoy it.

Having Gandalf back in the Shire was a treat. He hadn't been seen since Bilbo ran off after the Company. Of course, there were a few hobbits that had been glad to see the large back of the Grey Wizard, but Bilbo and Thorin were pleased (as much as they could be when they knew that there would be some drama caused) to see him for the first time in five years. Bilbo, especially, was thrilled when Gandalf promised them fireworks during the visit.

Which was why they were in the Party Field at dusk. A picnic blanket was spread out beneath them, and Bilbo debated on whether to finish unpacking the basket or to cuddle with Thorin. He listed to the side a bit until he was pressed to Thorin's side and he felt the dwarf let out a rumbling laugh. "What about our sandwiches? You put up such a fight earlier when I suggested we didn't need them."

"And I explained that we had to get here hours before Gandalf would actually set fireworks off in order to get a good spot."

"I maintain that above Bag End would have been a good spot," Thorin muttered as he dropped a kiss to Bilbo's forehead. "Whatever you think-" Thorin sucked in a quick gasp and then Bilbo suddenly fell to the side as his husband quickly stood and started shaking his hand wildly.

Bilbo could only watch for a moment as Thorin stopped waving and then proceeded to give himself a very thorough pat down. "What happened?"

Thorin muttered something, but he said it too quietly and too distracted for Bilbo to make out. The hobbit rose slowly to his feet. "Thorin?"

His husband let out a sigh and finally looked at Bilbo. The embarrassment was clear on his face, and it made Bilbo smile softly at him. "There was a bug." Bilbo blinked as Thorin said a word in Khuzdul, presumably the name of said bug. He pressed his lips together to keep himself from grinning as he scanned the ground around them.

Ah, there it was. "A grasshopper?" Bilbo bent over and picked up the bright green bug. Admittedly, it was rather large, but they were harmless! He had no idea that Thorin was frightened of them. He tried to think of any situations during their travels that he may have learned about this and came up blank. "It won't hurt you."

"I just don't like them," Thorin muttered. Bilbo felt a smile fighting through and he nodded. Thorin sounded very close to pouting, and after that it could quickly go into scowling and brooding, and then their night would be ruined. "Can you just-" Thorin waved his hand in a shooing motion.

Bilbo let out a soft huff of laughter before he walked to the opposite side of the party field and put the grasshopper into a hedge. Just as quickly, he was back at Thorin's side and pulled him back down on to the blanket. "Not to worry, my love. I will always take bugs far away from you."

Thorin let out a weary sigh and pressed his face against Bilbo's neck. After a moment of Bilbo rubbing his back, he felt lips against his jaw as Thorin murmured a soft thank you.

#bagginshield #my fic stuff #summer stories #week 2 #fotfics

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7amaspayrollmanager · 7 months

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Alright let's imagine a scene that is all too normal in palestine. A palestinian business owner finds his building covered in graffiti stars of Davids and Hebrew that says "gas the arabs" and "death to arabs"

Now imagine there's a reporter there and asks the palestinian business owner what happens and they say "the jews attacked my business"

Pause. Now your response might be "uncle no. Say israelis not jews" and then this is when he would look at you like youre stupid because the israelis doing this are jewish. They are not the Christians or the druze or the palestinian ones with Israeli citizenship. They are Jewish israelis who believe in their religious supremacy. When you graffiti stars of david all over a palestinian business, car, or the street you seek that conflation. it sends a message, this is jewish land and you're next.

The problem is that these videos circulate in zionist circles. "Watch this video of children in gaza calling for the death of jews" "watch how they say they want to fight and kill jews" those children are referring to Israeli soldiers that come in night and do their raids with the star of David attached to their uniform or the ones that bomb them. It's easy to watch those videos and assume that palestinians are indoctrinating their children on anti semitism or you can realize that those children's only interaction with jewish ppl is through violence and parents cannot protect their children from this. Doesn't matter context is lost

Abby Martin went to Jerusalem and interviewed israelis for 2 hours and she says every israeli was extremely confident to say that this land is for them and that they should push the Arabs out and when she interviewed palestinians they spoke of freedom from occupation and their dreams. That's reality. Not the soundbites.

And yet we have invasive youtubers and interviewers constantly in the street of ramallah or wherever in palestine asking palestinians "do you hate jews?" And in those videos you hear those palestinians say "no we have no problem with jews we have a problem with occupation and we have a problem with zionism." Bc this is how we are trained to respond to this trope. Palestinians are very aware what the world thinks of us and the reality is that many palestinians have internalized it and we grow up reading books on the Holocaust and train ourselves to recognize anti semitic dog whistles so zionists don't get the soundbites they want.

So we say "anti zionism is not anti semitism" and we say "israeli zionists" and we do not say "jewish supremacy" even thought it exists in palestine but "zionist supremacy" and in these carefully worded speech we water down what is happening to us in an effort to not deter people away from solidarity. But it means nothing. The world categorically blames palestinians for rising anti semitism they blame us for jewish insecurity globally.

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heavenlymorals · 18 days

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I feel like a lot of people forget that the Van Dir Linde gang was actually famous in their universe- Dutch Van Dir Linde was as famous as the real life Butch Cassidy. The gang had as much infamy as the Wild Bunch or the Dalton gang. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Bill Williamson, Javier Esculla, Lenny Summers, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire and more were probably as famous as the real life Doc Holliday, Jesse James, Black Bart, Rufus Buck, Ike Clanton, the Sundance Kid, Wild Bill Hickock, and more.

Sadie Adler would've been just as famous. She was a gunslinger like the real life Calamity Jane and Anne Oakley and she was an outlaw at one point like Laura Bullion, Pearl Hart, Belle Star, The Cassidy Sisters, and more.

The other women of the camp would've probably been less popular but still very intriguing figures to people in the future.

In the newspapers, we see that there are songs about Dutch's boys and books too. Trelawny mentions them being on dime novels. In the future, the pieced together story of the Van Dir Linde gang might've gotten adapted into a movie, similar to "Butch Cassidy and the Sun Dance Kid" or "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford". They could've gotten biopics, documentaries, and more.

Historians and fans of the wild West era would dig up records, find pictures, and maybe even track down people who were apart of the gang, accomplices to the gang, or victims of the gang. They would try to piece together stories to figure out the mystery of what actually happened to the gang.

People would argue over things that happened in the gang and have their evidence to back it up. Letters written by gang members would become so valuable. If they ever someone come across Arthur's journal, it would probably be considered one of the most valuable pieces of documentation to ever exist for that time period.

The guns of the gang would probably be kept in museums if found. Albert Mason's portrait of Arthur Morgan would be found in history books, same as other pictures.

Dutch would probably be a very controversial figure in history- some would hail him as a failed hero and others would condemn his violence no matter the reason- they wouldn't know what the people in the gang knew- especially in the end. Same with the rest of the gang members.

They'd probably all get romanticized. Hosea and Dutch's friendship, the raising of the boys, Dutch and Annabelle and his fued with Colm, Mary and Arthur, John and his family, Javier being a revolutionary- no one would know the full story.

And then there is Jack- he may live to see the 1960s and 70s and 80s. He may have grandchildren who'd pull him into a theater to watch a retelling of the gang that he was a part of at one point. He'd be amused. He'd think that the actor playing his father was too clean looking, too pretty. He'd think that the movie Arthur was too skinny. He'd think that the man playing Dutch had a funny voice as he tried to mimic the accent. He'd laugh and make notes in his head of the historical accuracy. He'd feel sorrowful at the deaths of the characters- he knew them at some point. And no one at the theater would know that the old man with the rowdy bright eyed boys who brought him there was Jack Marston, the last of the Van Dir Linde gang.

Jack might talk about it to the public. He might do interviews. He might even write a book about his father, the infamous John Marston. Those would be priceless. Even Beecher's Hope might be kept around and visited as a historical site for history goers.

And honestly? It is such a bittersweet thing.

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