#Estethell

[fizzyxcustard]

Ciaoooo I have a little ask for you :3

Historical AU.

Finally, after much searching, you managed to find a job. It consists of transporting supplies on a boat for the lighthouse keeper who lives alone on the islet lashed by wind and waves. You like the job even if you have to help the guardian to rearrange the supplies, a certain Thorin Oakenshield, a taciturn and rather gruff dwarf. Unfortunately, that day the sea was quite rough and when you arrived on the islet the wind picked up and a storm started. You've taken refuge in the lighthouse with Thorin ruling that you won't be able to return to dry land for some time, maybe a week!

Ooooh!!

You can use this ask as a prompt for a fic or you can describe to us what you feel and what you do, the important thing is to make us dream ✨

This is such a lovely ask, so detailed and creative. I absolutely l love it, and thank you so much for sending it to me. I'm going to write it as a head canon, and then, who knows, it may be developed for a fic. ;)

You take a boat over to the island every three days, making sure that you have plenty of basic items for Thorin, such as groceries, toiletries, household items and even clothing.

He keeps in close contact with you so that you can also shop for the items that he needs before delivering them.

You know when you set off that afternoon that a storm is approaching, but Thorin is particularly low on food supplies and you cannot leave him without food.

As you row towards the island, you can feel the waves picking up height and speed. You know that you're not going to see your own home for at least a couple of days.

Thorin in surprised to see you and tells you that you shouldn't have come out in the bad weather.

As he lets you into the lighthouse, he can't help but smile as you drift past him. It's lonely out on the island and he often thinks about you at night, wondering what it would be like to hold you and find warmth with you.

You help Thorin pack away all of his items, but after an hour, you can hear the winds gusting around the tall building.

"There is no way you can go back while the weather is like this!" Thorin insists, as he stands at the window and pulls the curtain aside, watching the frightening height of the waves.

You can't help but feel a spark of excitement in your belly. You've had a crush on Thorin since the first time you came to the island and delivered his items. His eyes, his voice, his presence. But you also sense sadness inside him and loneliness.

Thorin cooks you a meal, a hearty stew, and just as you finish the last mouthful, the power goes out.

Thorin lights many candles and places them in the main rooms on the ground floor.

Your room will be the guest room next to Thorin's and he shows you your room, holding a candle which illuminates his face.

Once you head to bed, you lie there in silence, listening to the raging storm outside.

Thorin also lies awake in the next room, wondering what you are doing.

You get up to go to the toilet and accidentally fall over something in the darkness, which makes Thorin come running into your room as he heard the tumble.

He gets down to you, a candle glowing. "Are you alright?" he asks softly. Then he offers you his hand and helps you up.

Your ankle has been twisted and you moan in pain, falling against him.

Thorin grabs you, and for a couple of seconds, you can't help but gaze into each other's eyes.

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #modern AU #modern Thorin AU #Thorin x You #Thorin x Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Modern!Thorin Oakenshield #Modern!Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Headcanon #Request #Estethell #The Hobbit #Modern Hobbit AU

[i-did-not-mean-to]

I read you last post and I wanted to say you that you're a special and wonderful people even just for writing this post ❤️

We need more of you ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you ❤️

Thank you, my dear, you and everyone else know that you can always come to me and ask for help, right?

I am here. I will reblog your post (you just have to tell me, I am not much on Tumblr these days), commission your art, and talk you through the worst...

Just...don't hesitate. I am here. I am always here.

#ask #IDNMT answers #estethell

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

HE’S HERE,HE’S HERE HE’S HERE,HE’S HERE

It’s Fili my beloved

The BIGGEST thank you to @estethell for the most amazing keychain in existence!!!!!

I love him 🥺🥺🥺

#fili #fili durin #fanart #fili fanart #the hobbit #lotr #estethell art

[art-by-moosie]

And there we have it~! All of the Saintly dwarves of Thorin's Company are finally completed! I ran out of types of cheeses for the Lins and Oins, so I made up some cheese types :p Maybe they're special, Middle Earth-only cheeses.

It only took me, oh...4 years or so LOL And to think, it all started because of a joke on a discord server about Saint Bofur.

Art tag: @sotwk @estethell @ilovedainironfoot

#art #my art #fanart #the hobbit #tolkien #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #balin #dwalin #oin #gloin #dori #nori #ori #bifur #bofur #bombur #traditional art #mixed media art #prismacolor pencils #copic markers #ohuhu markers #artists on tumblr #traditional artists on tumblr #fanartists on tumblr #drawing practice #sketch #drawing #doodle

[tolkienpinupcalendar]

Tolkien Pinup Calendar l Masterlist 2024

Download the pinup calendar here!!

Masterlist:

January: Gandalf Big Naturals by @ye3honk (Twitter) for @bellejolras

February: Loveshot by @8thparadox for @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book

March: Rootin' Tootin' Cowgirl by @crowrelli for @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book and @bellejolras

April: Mushroom picking by @ela-draws (Instagram) for @rosasynstylae

May: Peepers by @sleepysandwichguy (Instagram) for @blairsanne

June: Pride and Prejudice by @crowrelli for @middleearthpixie Companion Fic: Second Time Around

July: Just Beachy by @fishing4stars (DeviantArt) for @fishing4stars (AO3) Companion Fic: Just Beachy

August: The multiplicity of Bilbo Baggins by @estethell (Instagram) (ko-fi) for @sunnyrosewritesstuff

September: Caught In The Gate by @peolwiffe (Twitter) for @rosasynstylae

October: Boromir on horse by @ye3honk (Twitter) for @middleearthpixie Companion Fic: The Woods

November: Splash by @bloodwingblackbird (AO3) for @rosasynstylae

December: Indoor Picnic by @metztlilua (Ko-Fi) (AO3) for @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book, @rosasynstylae and @frosticenow

AO3 collection for the event

#tolkienpinupcalendar2024 #masterlist

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Thanks for the tag @skinnyscottishbloke! I love music tags. The rules are to use your "On Repeat" playlist to describe your 2024 year, but I decided to use my Top Songs for 2023 instead. Here's what I came up with!

January- U-English Version- millennium parade, Belle

February- Unholy- Our Last Night 😳

March- Yellow- Coldplay

April- Roll To Me- Del Amitri

May- You're the Inspiration- Chicago

June- Smile- Katy Perry 😁

July- You Can't Stop the Beat- Hairspray Cast

August- Over My Head (Cable Car)- The Fray 🙃

September- Faith- Stevie Wonder, Ariana Grande

October- The Saints of Violence and Innuendo- Shinedown 😱

November- Only the Good Die Young- Billy Joel

December- Rain on Me- Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande

Okay I'm completely terrified for the end of my year now! 😅 Tagging some peeps to see if it works out any better for you: @lordoftherazzles, @dimdiamond, @starthecozy, @yacrimago, @lucigoo, @middleearthpixie, @tra-golden, @shantismurf, @frosticenow, @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book, @estethell, and @fantasyinallforms

#tag you're it #my musical preferences #my predicted year #i'm totally terrified

[sotwk]

400 Followers Milestone

My deepest thanks to the OGs who have stuck by me from the beginning, and also thanks most certainly to all the Followers who keep my blog thriving by interacting with me and my posts! <3

My best and greatest Tumblr achievement is actually you, my friends.

SotWK's 400 Celebration!

400 Followers on the 4th Month of 2023! (Hello at last, April!)

For this milestone, I want to do something a little different. As someone who recently discovered the joys of commissioned artwork, I would like to raffle off a paid commission by my friend, @estethell! She does wonderful art for Tolkien and a few other fandoms, and she would be happy to create something for one winner.

Open to Followers only! To enter the raffle, please reblog this post and answer all four questions in the "survey" below:

4-QUESTION SOTWK FEEDBACK SURVEY 1. Which of my currently posted fanfics is your favorite? (Link to my Masterlist) 2. Which Tolkien character would you like me to write more stories for? (Or write for the first time, if I haven't done so yet. Please try to pick one top choice!) 3. Which of my four OC Thranduilion brothers/princes are you most interested in learning or reading more about? Explanations appreciated but not a must! (Link to some info About the Princes) 4. Do you have a Mutual/Friend/Favorite Blogger whom you think I should follow or connect with? (And would you like to introduce us?)

On April 15th, I will take all entries received and pick one name at random.

The winner will be contacted by @estethell to work out the details of the art commission.

The commission value is for 40 euros, and payment will already be made to the artist.

The winner is also free to gift the commission to another friend (doesn't have to be a Follower of mine). Once you win the prize, it's entirely yours to do with as you please.

Here is the beautiful artwork I commissioned from @estethell: Prince Fili and my OC elleth character from my ongoing Fili series, "The Only Gold". I'm excited provide this opportunity for her to share her talent with others in our fandom!

#sotwk milestone #400 followers #milestone celebration #reader appreciation #thank you followers #feedback survey #commission raffle #art commission

[lathalea]

Teaser Time: The White Raven ch6 is coming soon!

I would like to thank everyone who has supported me so far during my work on The White Raven fic, especially you, lovely people, yes, you who replied to my latest post about it. Your response was so overwhelmingly kind and really motivating 💕💕💕😭 Special thanks to @legolasbadass for being a great and extremely patient beta reader 💙

You gave me strength to continue writing this story and I have a little something for you...

✨💎 As a big THANK YOU 💎 ✨ I'd like to share a small snippet from Chapter 6 with you. Enjoy!

“He’s still breathing!”

“Thorin, wake up! Wake up, ye lazy bastard!” someone growled straight into his ear. “Damn it!”

“Dwalin, look, we stopped the bleeding.”

Those voices again. Pulling Thorin back into consciousness. Into the pain and emptiness.

“Let’s finish dressing his wound and then we’ll take ‘im to Oín,” the growling one said. 

“What’s that, Fili?” the young, familiar voice said.

“Where?”

“Over there, by that pointy rock on the other side of the river.” 

“Looks like a dead Warg to me,” the one very close to him rasped out. A pair of hands kept on doing something to his chest. It hurt. He wanted it to stop. 

“Too small for a Warg, Dwalin. It’s… by Mahal’s beard!”

“Where are you going, Fili? Wait for me!” The first voice sounded irritated.

A sound of hurried footsteps. Iron-heeled boots against ice. 

“Those two can’t sit in one place in peace if their life depended on…” the raspily-sounding one grunted. “I tell ya, Thorin, when ye’re better, we’ll send them on guard duty. First morning shift for a month. That’ll teach ‘em!”

Somehow, it made Thorin want to smile. But now, even smiling hurt.

“It’s a raven! So big! Look at its wings! Why are you staring, Fili?” the youthful voice reached his ears again.

“I think it’s… the White Raven.”

“What?! It’s just a fairy tale!”

“I’ve seen this raven before, Kili,” confidence rang in the second voice. “I think it followed us on the way to Erebor. It helped me fight off a Warg-rider in the Misties just before the eagles came.”

Thorin took a reluctant breath. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. 

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good. There is so much blood… Is it dead, Fili?”

“Let me see… That’s a nasty wound.”

Thorin’s muscles tensed. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to speak. But his body didn't want to obey.

And then he heard two gasps at the same time.

“What’s happening?”

“Do you see it too, Fili?”

“It’s… it’s magic!”

“No, it’s a shapeshifter!”

“Look! Look!”

“A woman?!”

Both voices intermingled in Thorin’s exhausted mind, making less and less sense. He needed to act. He needed to… He breathed in. The air smelled like snowdrops.

“Thorin! Ye’re back! And here I was thinkin’…” A tattooed forehead and a bushy moustache appeared before his eyes. “Stop squeezing my hand so hard!”

“Carra…” Thorin managed to rasp out. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“What are ye sayin’?” Dwalin demanded.

“Help…. her…” He tried again. “She is…”

“What? I can barely hear ye.” The last wisps of strength were leaving him. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him once again.

“Yasthûnê…” Thorin articulated slowly. “My… wife.”

The full chapter is going to drop in the beginning of next week, Thorin and Carra can't wait to share their tale with you 💙

Tagging @legolasbadass @linasofia @xxbyimm @quiall321 @i-did-not-mean-to @evenstaredits @exhausted-humxn-being @mrsdurin @emrfangirl @aduialel @littlesweetdressmaker @shiinata-library @estethell @heilith @sotwk @groovycalzoneroadmaker @sazzlep @ponycactus @nokisuu @the-lonely-pillow @myeaglesongart @i-am-the-raven-queen @ruthoakenshield @asgardianhobbit98 @thespiritoflife @justfollowtheroad @fizzyxcustard @knittastically @mcchiberry @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady and everyone who is interested in this story (stupid tumblr said I couldn't tag more people, sorry) 💙

#the white raven #thorin oakenshield fic #fanfic #thorin #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #snippet #wip excerpt #lathalea writes

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen.  She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

Warnings: Description of wounds, but nothing too graphic

Rating: T

Word Count: 4k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Kaia crept along the edge of the pathway, ready to dive into the foliage to her left if the need arose and with the way orcs seemed to have taken over practically all of the woodland areas of Middle Earth, the need was most likely going to arise and soon. The scratches on her arms and legs and cheeks from her last encounter with them were only partially healed. Damn orcs caused more trouble than a thousand field mice on a rampage in her larder. More trouble, more damage, and far more aggravation, that was for certain.  

The thunder of pounding feet shattered the silence and the deer she’d been stalking leapt off into the brush like quicksilver. She stood there for a moment, scowling at the skittish deer, then she sank into the brush as well. And not a moment too soon, for she had no sooner moved off the path when the army of orcs came thundering around a bend from the north.

She sank back as deeply into the trees and underbrush as she could and willed herself into absolute silence. From where she stood, it seemed the orcs were endless, pressing on without stopping, without slowing down, and as she moved throughout a good portion of Middle Earth, she was all too familiar with orcs and could say with certainty she’d never seen so many on the move at one time. This was no pack, but an army, and one, it seemed, with a sole purpose.

They stalked something.

Well, it wouldn’t be her, that was for sure.  

The thunder dulled to a low rumble, but as she was about to step out onto the path once more, the thunder returned. Only this time, no orcs came around the bend, nor did the thunder come from the north. Instead, it rolled up from the south as the forest came alive with not only that thunder, but with the clang of steel and the whistling thwock of arrows. 

A battle? Orcs battled with one another on a regular basis, but never on this great a scale. Somewhere just south of where she stood it seemed they were suddenly waging war. Perhaps they’d found their quarry?

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Kaia crept toward the sounds. Foolish, no doubt, but she needed to know whether or not the time had come to move on, as she did more often than she cared to think about. Not that she wished to move. She’d been in this part of Middle Earth for some time now—although she could not say for certain just how long that time actually was, as the days had a way of blending together. Even so, it was long enough that the cabin that had been abandoned when she found it was now actually something of a cozy little home. 

But at the same time, she needed to know if she was in for much in the way of trouble, and so there she was, sneaking through the underbrush with a care she reserved usually for tracking swift-footed animals. She crept over fallen logs and around decayed stumps, picked her way carefully through pricker bushes and all the while, her heart beat fast enough that she could hear it as her pulse pounded through her temples. Still, she’d learned in at the time she’d been on her own, how to move without a sound, and so she reached the top of a clearing surrounded by mossed-over stone ruins that had once probably been white and immense but were now little more than stained and discolored stone scraps. 

She crept closer to the stone, using it for cover as she peered around at the scene before her. The halflings caught her attention, for while she had heard of them, she’d never seen any. Compared to the orcs surrounding them, they were indeed small. And terrified, from the looks of it, even as they shouted to catch the orcs’ attention to lure them away from the wide river she knew flowed along the western shore. 

Without hesitation, she reached for her bow and slipped an arrow from the quiver on her back. She lay the arrow on the rest, but did not draw back the string. Not yet. There were far too many orcs for her to intervene on behalf of the halflings and while she felt pang of sympathy and the annoying sting of helplessness, there was truly nothing she could do for them. She certainly was not about to sacrifice herself for anyone she did not know. 

But then, hurtling over the ridge across from her, came a man and in his grasp, a sword of gleaming steel. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the fray, swinging that blade with an expert precision that was almost fluid in its grace. A large ivory horn banged against his hip and as he swung about to his right, he grabbed it with his left hand to jerk to his lips. The bleats rang out with such power, the sound actually knocked her back a step and she stumbled over a downed branch. She lost her footing, toppling end over end back down into the gully behind her. Her bow went in one direction, the arrow in another, and she landed hard enough that she knocked the wind from herself. Stunned, she lay staring up at the leaf-spattered sky, the sounds of battle sounding so far away and hollow as she struggled to draw breath. The sounds of the battle drowned out the sounds of her fall, thankfully, and when her lungs finally chose to re-inflate, she gasped to fill them. 

With a soft groan, she managed to roll onto her hands and knees, and slowly got to her feet again. Steel meeting steel reverberated at a normal volume once more as she shook off the last of the cobwebs, retrieved her bow and the arrow, and climbed back to her perch.

She reached the top in time to see two orcs snatch up the halflings, just scooped each up and lumbered out of the clearing, still moving south while the rest of them continued the battle. The fighting raged, but like the two orcs and their halflings, it moved south as well. 

As quickly as they erupted, the sounds of battle ceased and silence slammed down all around her as the last of the orcs followed their brethren south and as the path wound out of sight, so did the army. Kaia waited wit heated breath, to see if any would return. When she was satisfied that they would not, she slipped the bow back where it belonged, the arrow back into the quiver, and instead eased her broadsword from the sheath at her right hip, and crested the hill to descend into the clearing. She looked about for the man with the horn, as she’d not seen what his fate had been, only to find he was nowhere about. 

But, as the battle sounds rang into memory, she realized that she still heard something. Wounded orcs perhaps, so she crossed the clearing to the opposite slope, and crept as noiselessly as she could, over the ridge and climbed down into the clearing.

At first, she thought perhaps the sounds actually did come from the battle still being fought further upriver and that the woods for some reason bastardized them. But as she moved about the  broken, decimated orc bodies, leaves, tree branches, arrows and other abandoned weapons, toward a large oak slightly to the northeast, Kaia realized that noise was not that of a battle at all. And as she climbed up the opposite slope toward that big tree, her fingers tightened of their own about her sword’s somewhat worn grips, her heart hammering louder still against her ribs, leaving her as breathless as she had been when she’d slammed down into the hard-packed earth only minutes before.

A man lay there, somewhat propped up by the tree’s gnarled trunk. But that wasn’t what made her hand tighten about her sword until her fingers went numb. Nor was it the sight of the the arrows that riddled him which rendered her dumb for a long moment, her grip loosening, the sword clattering into the broken leaves and debris at her feet. 

No, what made her stare was that he still lived. 

His breathing came rapid and shallow, each breath punctured by a moan of pain that grew softer with each one drawn. Sweat soaked him, plastering his dark hair to his head, the arrows quivering as he fought for air, which in turn led to more moaning. 

She dropped to her knees alongside him, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “There, there,” she whispered when he moaned again, “I’ll not hurt you.”

His eyes had been closed, but as she spoke, the lids lifted slowly. His eyes were pale, blue or perhaps gray, she couldn't tell. She could tell they focused on nothing, however, but darted about as he gasped, “They took the little ones…”

His eyes slid shut once more, and he went still. Kaia stared, her mouth going oddly dry as she whispered, “Please… breathe, won’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper. “I am so sorry…”

“Easy now,” she patted his shoulder again. “The orcs are gone, but they might come back.” 

She peered over her shoulder, at where her sword lay. It was just beyond reach. Turning back to the man, she murmured, “I’ll be but a moment.”

A low moan, even softer still, answered her. She patted his shoulder a third time then scooted back to snatch up her sword. Footsteps grew louder and the urge to bolt surged through her. Self-preservation screamed at her to simply run, to blend into the woods and disappear before the orc army returned. 

But she couldn't leave him. She might not be able to do much, but if she left him there, he’d be condemned to death. She counted no less than five arrows protruding from his large body. His surcoat and tunic were dark—royal blue and scarlet respectively, so it was impossible to tell how much blood he’d lost. But, a childhood spent on a farm taught her all she need know about bleeding and injuries and how to treat them and her mother’s voice sounded in her head. 

With that, she slid her blade back into its scabbard and returned to the man’s side. “Come. We need to leave. Now.”

“No…” he almost whimpered, his head lolling from side to side, “leave me…”

“I’ll do no such thing.” She crouched, grabbed his arm and, whispering, “Forgive me,” hefted him to his feet.

His cry rang out, raw and anguished and she winced as it echoed throughout the clearing. “Hush… lest you wish them to return.”

“I cannot…”

“You can and you will.” She gritted, ignoring the dull ache in her back as it felt like every bone in her spine compacted from the weight of him pulling down on her. He towered over her, far broader than she would ever be, and could barely stand on his own. Two arrows protruded from his left thigh, and with each step, he whimpered as his weight shifted from his uninjured leg to his injured one. 

“It’s all right,” she whispered, ignoring the trickle of sweat rolled down along her spine, and down between her breasts. It had been a cool day, almost crisp, but as she all but dragged him from the clearing of Amon Hen, it might as well have been the dead of summer. Sweat soaked her tunic and dampened her hair, leaving it to hang in wet strings about her face, which she was certain was most likely bright red by now from the exertion of dragging a full grown man through the woods. If that wasn’t bad enough, he could barely walk, which mean the toes of his boots caught on every single bit of debris in their path. Never mind the arrows still protruding from his body. Her initial reaction had been to yank them out, but then wisdom prevailed and she left them in place, although she wished she had something to wrap about each one to keep them as steady as possible until it was safe for her to remove them. 

“Please…” His voice was fainter still. “Leave me to die and go on… if they come back…”

“Oh, hush and just try to help me, if you can.”

“I beg… your pardon…”

He grew heavier still, but as the thunder grew louder once more, she ignored the pain in her back, the burn of the muscles pulling along her neck and shoulder, ignored everything but the need to get him—and herself—out of danger as quickly as she could. 

Black dots danced before her eyes and her blood roared in her ears as the thunder grew louder and the man grew heavier still. Her right shoulder felt almost in danger of separating completely from her body as she stumbled over an exposed root and he let out a howl. 

They slid most of the way down the last slope and across a wide path, and it wasn't until she spotted the familiar towering oak tree that marked the beginning of the narrow path deeper into the thickest part of the forest that she allowed herself to think they might actually be safe.

But then he slipped from her to land on his knees and the howl that rang out was primal in its agony, reverberating through the woods with enough force that birds took flight. 

Kaia froze. There was no way possible the orcs did not hear that. They had to.

“Please,” she moved around to grab the man’s hands, her right arm only barely obeying her by now, it hurt so badly, “we need to get off this road now. Those orcs are on their way and I cannot fend off that entire horde alone.”

“Leave me,” he whispered.

“I’ll not and I swear, if you say it again, I’ll drag you back by your hair.” She crouched to grab his arm and drape it about her neck once more. “Now, on your feet!”

With that, she yanked and stood, a hot sting racing along the side of her neck as she did. He weighted down her shoulder, but at least managed to stand and there must have been a bit of divine intervention at work for they made it into the darkness, off the path and out of sight of any orcs. 

The cabin was foreboding from a distance and no warmer up close, and Kaia kept it that way, as it looked as if it had been unoccupied for ages, which meant no one would stop there if they didn't absolutely have to. From time to time, vagrants thought to pass a night there, only to find themselves firmly evicted at the point of her sword.

Although it looked run down and dilapidated, she’d made certain to reinforce it in any way she could, and so as she shoved open the door, then shoved the man into the great room, she was finally able to breathe easily as she pushed the door shut behind them and locked it firmly. 

The great room was sparsely furnished, but thankfully she did have a sofa and that was where she not so elegantly deposited her large parcel, who whimpered as he sank into the cushions.

“I know, it isn’t the most comfortable place, but I’m fairly certain my arm is about to fall off, so you will simply have to make do. Give me a moment to wash my hands and I’ll tend to your wounds.”

“Hopeless…”

“Nothing is hopeless as long as you draw breath.” Rubbing her sore shoulder, she moved to the kitchen, where the ewer she’d filled that morning held enough water for her to wash her hands and still have some left over to wash his wounds. 

She kept her meager supplies in the kitchen cupboard, and brought over what she had. Needle and thread, should she have to stitch his wounds, and worn, discolored strips of linen she’d used in the past as bandages. They looked sketchy, but were in fact clean. 

“I’ll be back in but a moment,” she told him, setting the things on the stone table before the sofa. “I’ll need to get something I can tear for dressings.”

“Please don't trouble…”

“Stop it. I am not going to keep telling you that.” She turned to go into her bedroom, which was a small room off the kitchen and toward the rear of the cabin. As she rarely wore gowns any longer, she had several chemises she kept folded in the low chest for just such an occasion, although it was usually herself she was patching back together and never another body.

The linen was old, but also clean, and tore easily into strips that would be folded as necessary and when she brought them back out, she said, “I am sorry, but I’ve nothing to give you for pain. A bit of wine, perhaps, but it is more vinegar than anything now.”

He didn't reply, but just let his head loll from left to right. He was frightfully pale, the darkness of his hair emphasizing it, and sweat beaded his high forehead while a scruffy beard shadowed his cheeks and jaw. He looked as if he’d been lost in these woods for months. As carefully as she could manage, she unfastened the elegant jade and silver clasp that held his fine grayish-brownish-green cloak at his throat, pulled off his gloves, then worked the fine leather surcoat from him without causing him too much pain. His tunic and trousers would have to be cut from him, if she was to be able to reach his wounds, but there was no other options. Hopefully she would find something to give him to wear. She picked up many odds and ends in her travels, and could probably come up with a shirt large enough from him to wear. Trousers would be a different story, but she would worry about that when—and honestly, if—the time came. 

Along with the two arrows embedded in his left thigh, three more protruded from his torso—one just below his left collarbone, one only slightly lower, and one down just above his left hip. He’d been incredibly lucky, although she doubted he would agree with her. As far as she could tell, she could remove them, but there was no promising he would survive it, or the coming days. 

Still, she had to try, and so as carefully as she could, she removed the one at his collarbone, her stomach clenching at the soft grind of the arrowhead against his bone. He stiffened, a hiss of breath leaking through his clenched teeth as she worked it free and blood spilled from the wound.

“I know it hurts,” she murmured, “and for that I am sorry, but there is no avoiding it.”

She dropped the arrow onto the floor and pressed a folded square of linen against his chest at the blood bubbling up. Within minutes, she had the bleeding slowed, her hands reddened from it as she first probed the wound, then flushed it, and when she was certain she had the bleeding under control, she then threaded her needle to stitch the wound closed. 

He stiffened with each step, but remained surprisingly stoic, but finally sank into unconsciousness as she went about moving to the next wound. And the next. With endless patience, she removed the arrows, cleaned the wounds, sewed them up, and bandaged them, not stopping to rest or do much more than wash her hands when they grew too bloodied, or to light the lamp when it grew too dark for her to see what she was doing. 

Finally, she finished and sat back with a soft groan, bowing her back, and sighed with relief as her spine popped and cracked and the pressure eased. Then, she stood, moving to the far end of the sofa, taking care not to fall over the man’s boots, which she’d simply tossed aside after tugging them off. 

The pump for the water was behind the cabin and she filled the ewer once more, then brought it inside, where she’d let it warm over the fire, which was little more than embers, but wouldn’t take much to stoke back to life. 

It had to be near midnight by the time she sank back onto the edge of the stone table and as gently as she could manage, set about bathing the man’s face, his neck, down into the broad plane of his chest, along his arms, his midsection—being careful not to jostle him or get the bandages wet. They were bloodstained, but it had begun to take on the rusty hue of old blood, so she breathed a sigh of relief. She had managed to staunch the bleeding and she didn't kill him, so perhaps he would survive the night after all. 

She sat there for a while, just watching his chest rise and fall, shallow still, but not nearly as shallow as it had been earlier. His jaw clenched and he whimpered every now and again, but otherwise, he seemed as at peace as one could be in that situation. 

Her stomach growled to remind her of why she’d been in the forest to begin with, and so with a sigh, she rose and moved to the cupboard to see what she might have to feed her guest come morning. Not much, unfortunately. She’d have to check the larder, and so out into the darkness she stepped.

All was quiet. Even the nocturnal animals seemed to sense the disruption to their habitat and so remained wherever they spent their days. A gentle breeze wafted through the trees, cooler than it had been of late, which meant summer had actually finally ended and the cold weather was on its way.

The larder was a bit more promising, a few eggs, thanks to the market that popped up every now and then on the western side of the forest. Black market, no doubt, but she didn't care. Eggs were eggs and she was happy to have them, even if they cost nearly as much as gold now. A slab of bacon procured with the eggs. A joint of beef. But not much else.

Still, it would be enough, or so she hoped. 

Wood cracked in the distance. Most likely a raccoon or some other creature just going about their business, but just in case… Kaia slunk back into the house and dropped the heavy wood bar into the rests. 

A bowl of apples, picked not to far from where she’d found the man, stood on the battered kitchen table. It was better than nothing, so she grabbed one and made her way back into the great room, where she’d planned to sit up and watch over her patient. However, her body thought differently and as she sank into the lone chair, across from the sofa, and leaned her head back for a moment—only a moment, mind you—the apple rolled from her grasp as sleep snuck up on her and clubbed her over the head. 

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here? #Romance #Sean Bean #Everybody Lives #Sons of Gondor

[theapocalypseisonlythebeginning]

Bad People or Good People? - Chapter 8: We’re the Good Guys, Clem (Part 3)

☝️beautiful art that I had commissioned by the lovely @estethell for this very story ❤️🖤 thank you again!

chapter summary: New alliances are made. Tyreese doesn't like what Woodbury seems to be, but Kenny is blind to it all. Rick doesn't like what he is turning into, meanwhile Clementine might have finally found a friend in Carl.

previous chapter: We’re the Good Guys, Clem (Part 2)

story masterlist

read on Ao3

Word Count: 2556

tag list: @nowandthane @fizzyxcustard If you'd like to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know

Tyreese wiped away some sweat from his forehead. The sun was scorching hot outside, but this was important work. With the threat of the prison group, Tyreese and some others had been ordered to help Kenny with the fence. The Governor had, apparently, thought Kenny’s suggestions for keeping Woodbury safer ideal, and had given all the supplies necessary almost immediately.

Kenny was slowly inching his way inside the Governor’s inner circle, and Tyreese wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Glancing to the side, said man was planting a kiss to Sarita’s cheek. He was a stark contrast to the man Tyreese had first met; the man who punched the Governor in the face.

He’d never do anything bad to Sarita though. Everyone knew Kenny would do anything for her and Sarita’s niece. The devotion he had for them made it seem like they’d known each other for years. Yet… apparently, they’d only known each other for two months.

“Here yeh go,” Kenny said. He handed Tyreese a zipped up bag of lunch Sarita had packed for the men working there. As Kenny handed the rest out, Tyreese continued to watch him.

The smile on Kenny’s face seemed fake. It always had. Like he was a politician trying to gain favor with the others. But Kenny was the opposite of a politician, and it all came off as… rather creepy. At least to Tyreese and his sister. No one else seemed to react to it.

“Very nice of her,” Tyreese said quickly.

Stood outside of the walls of Woodbury, taking a break for some nicely packed lunch seemed almost laughable. Yet here they were, pretending Woodbury was such a safe haven that a lunchbreak wasn’t dangerous.

Woodbury just felt… surreal. Sasha had been right about that.

“Where’d you get the idea from?” Tyreese asked, gesturing to the wired fence they were adding. The walls of Woodbury were already safe…

Well, that had been everyone’s hope, until the prison group had infiltrated the place.

“Some farm.” Kenny crouched down beside the small holes they’d drilled through the metal walls earlier. Through them, wires were going to be threaded that were attached to generators inside.

They were creating an electric fence. Difficult to pass, and easy to fry some Walkers that got too close.

“They had it all ‘round their property,” Kenny had continued. Then his face turned sour, an angry look appearing on his face. “They were freaks.”

Tyreese grew silent, watching as Kenny double checked any work that was done. If he’d only seen the idea once, then he was no expert. But the Governor was pretending he was.

The Governor was pretending Kenny was a lot of things lately. It was weird.

Their relationship was weird.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…” Kenny simply replied at first. But something dark overtook him suddenly: “Just thinking ‘bout all them things I’ll do to anyone who even dares to come close to Woodbury.”

Those words made Tyreese grow quiet once more. He wanted to trust the people here, but from the deluded civilians who thought life would go on like it did post outbreak, to the completely deranged anger that Kenny showed, to the tightly knit soldiers that spoke in hushed whispers behind Tyreese’s back and into the Governor’s ears…

This place was mental.

As if he could sniff out any type of disloyal or unsure thoughts, the Governor appeared behind Tyreese. “How’s it going?” he asked casually, planting a smile on his face. Walking with his hands behind his back, he glanced with his one eye at Tyreese as he rounded him to approach Kenny.

“Good, sir,” Tyreese was quick to reply, before going back to his work, lunch untouched.

“Just got a few more feet left, then we can start attaching the wires,” Kenny added.

“Good. Good,” the Governor hummed. “This was a great idea. We’ve got to do all we can to keep our enemies out.”

There was a brief pause in the conversation, only Tyreese’s hammering interfering with the silence.

“You say you’d been at the prison, right?” Tyreese glanced up at the Governor’s words. He stood, nodding his head. “And you say they had, what, at the most three strong men to fight?”

Tyreese wordlessly nodded his head. “And a baby, a kid-“

Upon the added information, Kenny had turned his head in surprise - but the Governor had raised a hand to stop Tyreese from talking more.

“Yes, very good. And tell me…” The Governor moved in closer. “Was there a little girl?”

“What?” Tyreese asked.

“Was there a little girl with them? Around ten years old?” the Governor asked.

Shaking his head no, Tyreese’s eyes grew suspicious. But not as suspicious as the Governor’s.

A long pause followed. The Governor moved in closer, invading Tyreese’s personal space. Suddenly, any hint of a fake smile was gone, and Tyreese tensed up as the true Governor showed its face for the first time.

“We’ve got people watchin’ them,” the Governor spoke menacingly quiet.

“Okay.” Tyreese spoke with a hint of a question, unsure what was being referred to.

The Governor suddenly smiled and patted Tyreese’s arm with a strange, forced chuckle. “Kenny,” he said, still staring straight at Tyreese, and staying right there in his personal space. “Do you think the men can finish without you?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t see why not,” Kenny replied from behind the Governor’s back, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

Only then did the Governor turn and leave Tyreese be. A strangely relieved sigh left him, having been unaware that his chest had tightened so much he hadn’t been able to breathe.

That was weird… right? Did the Governor just threaten him by accusing him of potentially lying? Tyreese and the others were only in there briefly, they hadn’t met everyone… At least, he didn’t think so…

“Walk with me,” the Governor asked, throwing an arm around Kenny’s shoulders before the man could reply. “Who was it you traveled with again…? Lee and Clementine?”

“Yeah.” As they moved further away from Tyreese, he heard less and less of their conversation, but kept staring at them.

“And you came from… Hershel’s farm?”

“Yeah, we did. Was the first place we got to when me and the wife decided to get outta town.”

“Interesting… Tell me more.”

…

Rick steered the car down roads not yet tainted by the lack of maintenance in this new, dark world. He sat back in his seat, relaxed. It was quiet. They had succeeded on a mission. And now the only threat they had to deal with was Woodbury.

All should be well.

But it wasn’t.

Where Daryl had sat earlier was just an empty seat. No one had sat down in the front, both Glenn and Daryl stuffed in the back. No one spoke. No one even looked at each other.

Rick didn’t have to use his police instincts to know that the atmosphere in the car was… his fault.

Both the men, clearly fond of Clementine, were being forced to lie to her. On top of that, they were forced to lie to the rest of the group too. Rick doubted whether Glenn would keep this from Maggie, but beside that, he knew no one else was going to find out.

Not for a while at least, and hopefully never.

He knew Glenn was going to stay true to Rick’s request to keep this quiet. Glenn was in line with Rick’s hatred for Woodbury. They were seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately.

But Daryl…

Those three bodies and the very obvious evidence of a group leaving, albeit it away from the prison, were all facts that Rick should openly tell his group - especially Clementine.

But…

What good would it do? Clementine might want to follow, meaning some people would leave with her. That would mean leaving the rest even more vulnerable to Woodbury’s threat. And that meant endangering Carl and Judith.

Selfish? Maybe… Or he was just trying to be a good leader.

For the first time in a long time, Rick wasn’t quite sure about Daryl’s loyalty. As he glanced back at the archer, perched awkwardly in the back with knees hitting the front seat uncomfortably, Rick was unsure what to do…

This was not a democracy. There were threats left and right.

But was it right to keep things from others just to keep people safe?

Far down the road, the prison could be seen already. They were almost home, and Daryl called it in through the Walkie Talkie.

But there was something else there.

Something along the road, waiting…

His mind revealed Lori, standing in an innocent white dress, watching him… Judging him for what he had become. For what he was doing. Lori, the woman who whispered in his ear about Shane’s bad intentions; Lori, the woman who loved Rick unconditionally; Lori, the mother to his children.

But she was gone.

And he had but one child.

 But no, he had two.

But…

Lori would have disagreed with Rick’s behavior. Lori did disagree with Rick’s behavior. She hated dictatorships.

The world was not right, she would say, if there are dictatorships ruling over people, lying and manipulating. Thinking only on how to make them do what their leader wanted of them…

Rick was doing just that.

Was he doing it for the right reasons…?

…

“I heard what you told Michonne.”

Much to Clementine’s surprise, Carl was the one stood in the doorway to her cell. She had holed herself up in there since hearing back from Daryl and breaking down to Michonne. Whatever Michonne had told the others about it had apparently made them leave Clementine alone. She wasn’t really complaining about that. The solitude had been great to calm herself down again and to do something to get her mind off it all.

Drawing had been what she had been up to. Just aimlessly scribbling and coloring.

She had been two drawings in by the time Carl had come to her cell.

“Merle said we should leave you alone, but…” He shuffled inside the cell, long brown hair sticking out from his hat in various places and angles.

Surprised, Clementine had perked up from her spot on the floor. “He did? Why?”

“Dunno,” Carl replied with a shrug. Both seemed to be talking about different things; whilst Clementine had been surprised that Merle had asked the others to leave the girl alone, Carl was more confused by why solitude was what people thought Clementine needed.

He shifted to sit down next to Clementine, glancing at the drawings. But his eyes weren’t very interested in her art, shifting to her waist instead: “You get your gun from someone?” he opted to ask instead.

With a nod, Clementine took it out from its holster. Daryl had found that holster for her, even spent some time trying to shorten the strap so it would fit her child waist. She placed the gun in front of her. 

Carl watched it for a while before taking out his own gun, placing it next to hers. “I killed my mom with it.”

It said a lot about this world that Clementine didn’t shift away from Carl in horror at those words.

Silence filled the cell instead.

“I killed Lee with mine,” Clementine whispered.

Two children sat alone in a cell, broken by what had happened to both, forced to do the unthinkable at a despicably young age.

“Sorry,” Carl had said quietly.

“Sorry,” Clementine repeated earnestly.

And suddenly, all of the fiendish feelings that Clementine had gotten from Carl since the beginning was gone. Suddenly, Carl reached over to place a hand on her shoulder - a brotherly gesture that made him look ten times older than he was, ready to protect her from any future horror.

“You’ve got friends in us too,” Carl said, trying his best to be a little supportive concerning the apparent disappearance of Ylva’s group.

Clementine nodded her head, but didn’t offer a smile at his words.

The children tucked their guns away again, before Carl gestured to the drawings. Without words, Clementine had offered Carl a blank piece of paper and some pens, before both simply… began to draw. Sitting next to each other to keep the other one company, they did this in silence for a while.

They had forgotten how nice it was to have someone closer to their own ages to talk to. How nice it was to just… be themselves, to have someone understand how shitty this all was for them.

They’d feel much better in each other’s companies than without from that moment on.

…

“Daryl.” Rick’s voice was a command. Glenn left them alone to find Maggie, or Clementine, whilst Daryl stayed put outside in the scorching sun. Rick shut the car door behind him, then approached Daryl, eyes darting at everything everywhere but at Daryl… until he came to a halt only a few feet away from the man.

Never in his life would Rick invade Daryl’s personal space to make a point. Despite any bad feelings or ill wishes that appeared between the two, Rick knew to give Daryl that space. It was important to Daryl, and Rick didn’t dare ask why - too worried, in all honesty, to hear how bad the reason might be. Daryl was his friend after all. He respected that distance even now.

“I wanna talk ‘bout what just happened.”

Daryl didn’t reply in any other form but a single, strained, nod.

“You know it’s important we keep our focus on the Governor-“

“This why we lyin’?” Daryl interrupted, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “’Bout someone’s friends? How would you feel if we lied ‘bout your family dyin’.”

It was no question. It was a point made. A point that was a touchy subject too.

Rick bit back some unkind words, lips thinning into a straight line, as he looked away. Composing himself, Rick pushed the anger, grief, and sadness away to offer Daryl an understanding nod.

“I know,” was Rick’s reply, spoken through a strained pair of lips. “You think I like lying? You think this is what I wanna do?” Daryl remained quiet, eyes narrowing into slits of mistrust, and Rick took a breath to calm himself. “They’re gone. We have no reason to follow. But we have all the reason to defend against the Governor, who is literally on our doorstep. You get it?”

“Then I go with the girl,” Daryl had quickly replied.

That had been Rick’s fear, and it showed as he was quick to shake his head. “Yer one of my best warriors, Daryl. I can’t lose you.” He paused then added: “We can’t lose you,” for emphasis.

“The tracks’ll be gone if we wait,” Daryl said, biting his lip. His gaze had drifted away from Rick, his head hung low. His voice, too, was quieter.

Rick was getting through to Daryl. “I know…”

“Ye’d have less difficulty leading if ye just spoke the truth,” Daryl snapped. With those words said, Daryl turned and marched off.

But something told Rick that Daryl wasn’t going to tell anyone they’d lied. That despite what he wanted to do, he understood Rick’s reasoning. Still, it didn’t feel right to force a good man to become bad.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd #clementine #the walking dead fic #the walking dead au #the walking dead telltale #the walking dead telltale fic #the walking dead fanfiction #my fic clementine

[fizzyxcustard]

I don't know if someone has already asked you but I'm really really really curious: How did your passion for Richard Armitage come about? Why did you choose him among so many actors? Do you remember what was first movie or tv serie or show you watched where you saw for first time him? :)

My passion for Richard Armitage himself has actually waned the last year or two, so I continue to cling to his characters more so than the man himself. I still love Thorin, Guy, Raymond, Lucas, Porter, Thornton etc.

As for my initial passion for him. I can’t remember where it came from. I knew of him as I’d seen clips of Robin Hood and my dad used to watch Spooks and Strike Back when they first aired, as he’s into spy and military stuff.

Believe it or not, when I first saw The Hobbit, I wasn’t tossed head over heels for Thorin. It took a while to really develop a crush on him. So it probably was from Thorin actually when I come to think of it. Watching the films again made me curious. And it was a “Oh, yeah, I remember seeing him in Spooks and Robin Hood! I know who he is now.” I even planned at one point, before I started following his work, to base a character on him in my book. So I was always aware of him.

Then I started joining Facebook groups of him and slowly slipped into the fandom, again, through Thorin.

So it really was Thorin that started it for me, and through Thorin I delved a lot deeper. And now I’ve got a bunch of characters chattering away in my head who won’t leave. 🤣🤣🤣

Thank you for your ask, love. I really appreciate it.

#Estethell #ask #richard armitage

[estethell]

These are the doodles with which I finally made the commission for I-did-not-mean-to. They are very confusing and ugly but it is very important to plan the work before realizing it.

On the left are the proofs of the pose, very stylized and anatomically horrible doodles but to understand which pose and what size could be right for me.

In the center, there is all the evidence for the art nouveau background. The frames that I have seen and studied are many and I have stylized the ones I liked best and then merge the most beautiful details into a single frame that would become definitive.

Instead, on the right we find the very sweet Ori. The draft is rough and many details have been changed or fixed, but it's him!!

Now, I'm curious to see your doodles too, if you like you can tag me so I'll see them... And if you have any questions my ask is open :)

#Personal #behind the scenes #Estethell doodles #The hobbit #Ori #commissions

[helphowdoiusethis]

Ciaooo :D

How do you think Octavius and Jedediah are known? We have seen how they initially wage war, but in your opinion, how did it ever start?

Hello @estethell!

I personally believe that the Roman's were a later addition to the Museum than the west so when the Roman diorama appeared one night, our Jedediah decided to be a good neighbour.

Little did he expect for a sword to be at his throat and a very confused, very angry Roman speaking Latin towards him.

And through many misunderstandings, Jed's guns not firing (Octavius laughing at this), the two ended up fighting and Jedediah barely making his way back to his diorama before day.

Then every night since they've been fighting.

#jedtavius #natm #jedediah smith #jedediah and octavius #jedediah x octavius #gaius octavius #natm 3 #natm 2 #natm fandom #natm jedtavius #natm jedediah #jedediah natm #natm octavius

[enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog]

💌 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome.

@fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @middleearthpixie @mrsdurin @littlesweetdressmaker @i-am-pinkie @lathalea @asgardianhobbit98 @estethell @heilith

[art-by-moosie]

Markers done. Tomorrow, it'll be time for colored pencils~

Tags: @sotwk @estethell @ilovedainironfoot

#my art #art #fanart #drawing #sketch #artists on tumblr #the hobbit #fanartists on tumblr #drawing practice #work in progress #art wip #balin #dwalin #oin #gloin

[missiemoosie]

Look, I drew some fanart!

It's Maddie as a half-dwarf druid from BG3 flirting chatting with Halsin. I've never played the game and probably never will due to not having a computer that can handle it or the right consoles, but I do know you can't actually play as a half-dwarf. Full dwarf or bust. And her outfit is based on some concept art of a dwarven druid from the game.

Art tags: @ilovedainironfoot @estethell

#art #my ocs madelina magpie #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin bg3 #digital art #sketch #drawing #doodle #original character #oc art #oc x canon #halsin x oc