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#bagginshield crack
smoking-old-toby · 3 months
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thorin: ugh elf food
thranduil: hmph. dwarf food
bilbo: well, in the shire, we call it food and we eat it
bard: yeah no kidding
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spoopyoopy · 10 months
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Are we really surprised though?
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overthinkinglotr · 3 months
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I wrote a short fanfic based on this tumblr post discussing monarchy in The Hobbit! Because while LOTR takes place in a magical fairy tale world where monarchy can be good, it is funny to bring the logic of anti monarchical revolutions to middle earth.
The summary:
“It is simply the nature of all kings to kill, plunder, and hoard wealth— in the same way it is the nature of dragons,” Bilbo said.
Bilbo Baggins has lived all his life in The Shire, where leaders are democratically elected. He has never met a king before. Royal families have always been nothing more than characters in stories from far away.
But after meeting several haughty warlike kings on the Quest for Erebor, Bilbo finally realizes why the Shire has no monarchy — it is a ridiculous horrible form of government and no one with any hobbit-sense would ever agree to it.
Following the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo explains representational democracy to King Thorin Oakenshield. Overwhelmed by the hobbit’s wisdom, Thorin impulsively converts Erebor into a democratic republic and retires from public life.
But what will happen when Bilbo and Thorin’s actions set off a wave of anti-monarchical democratic revolutions across Middle Earth? Will they ever be allowed to live in peace?
(A book/movie fusion tragicomedy about the struggles of searching for an ending where “they all live happily ever after to the end of their days.”)
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fantasyinallforms · 9 months
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I ran out of characters trying to answer you, @theladygreiwolf, so here we go!
Oh, you mean how Thorin is PB because he's solid and safe. His flavor shines through, but it's not the main attraction it doesn't need to be. It's there to add strength and substance. A PB sandwich can't stand alone. It's lacking something. It's incomplete, like Thorin without Bilbo. Bilbo is flavor; he's whimsy. He's not the safe or the filling option, but without him, the sandwich doesn't thrive it only survives. He's not as singly focused as Thorin and comes in many flavors. But just jelly as a sandwich will leave you wanting more. It will leave you still hungry and wishing there was something stronger to hold it together.
Together they make a pair that never gets old.
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madamebaggio · 5 months
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Notes: Previously....
***
“What’s going on here?”
“Bilbo!”
“Uncle!”
“We can explain!”
“Can we?”
“... What are you doing? Exactly.”
“Well, you see…”
“Not you, Bofur. Anyone else. Fíli.”
“Why me?”
“You wouldn’t lie to your favorite uncle, would you?”
“Fíli, be strong!”
“I talked to Thorin about your engagement to Sigrid.”
“FÍLI, NO!”
“WE ARE TALKING ABOUT YOUR ANNIVERSARY AND HOW UNCLE THORIN IS GOING TO DIE OF ANXIETY BEFORE IT EVEN GETS HERE!!!”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Well, Fíli, I think it’s safe to say we all lost a little bit of respect for you there, lad.”
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i-did-not-mean-to · 11 months
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ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕟
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The people have spoken in this poll.
Here is the Bonus chapter to my TSF (S)wiped out.
True to the spirit of the story, the title is a song title. (Honest Man by Ben Platt)
Words: 4.8 k (I've tried to make it worth your while)
Characters: Thorin x Bilbo
Warnings: Some internalised homophobia, some insecurity, a kiss
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Bilbo looked up in surprise when Thorin ambled into the bar on a Thursday night, dressed to the nines, and holding a pitiful bouquet of daisies in his broad hands.
“Did one of the ladies convince you after all?” he asked and almost set the glass he was drying down beside the counter in his puzzlement; there was a sick, unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t want to investigate.
It was but surprise, he tried to tell himself. He had been at the garden party, and he had seen the women completely forget about Thorin within half an hour of their arrival.
At least the first date was having a good time, drinking Dwalin under the table, while the sopping wet cat of a lady had been utterly engrossed in telling her whole life story to a very sympathetic looking Ori who had awkwardly patted her hand at regular intervals.
“She’ll get him to marry him before the day is over,” Bilbo had whispered.
Visibly surprised, Thorin had narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Better him than me, I’d say.”
“It’s not the crystal-peddling one, is it?” Bilbo now asked and shuddered at the thought of the woman who had been kicked out from the festivities after conning Kíli into buying a whole stock of utterly useless stones and oils.
“What?” Thorin blushed; he had not listened to a word Bilbo had said because he was so relieved to see a friendly face. “What about her? I’m sure she’s in jail or in an institution by now—ask me if I care.”
“Do you care?” Bilbo complied with a crooked grin.
“No, maybe the dragon lady can get her off lightly—why are we talking about my failed dates again? It’s done, it’s over—Dís had a funeral for my potential and we’ve all wept.” Thorin gave a short bark of laughter and gingerly put the flowers down on the counter in front of Bilbo.
“Either way, Bofur has invited the last one to an exposition on doilies,” he then explained slowly. “He was so thankful for the introduction that he…his cousin has a restaurant, did you know?”
Sniggering, Bilbo shook his head. He had been delighted to meet Thorin’s friends and family, but he was far from remembering everyone who had attended the garden party, let alone recall what they did for a living.
“So, I’ve got a reservation—very sought after, I’ll have you know—courtesy of Bofur…and I wanted to invite you.”
Picking up the same glass again and polishing exactly one hand width of the rim, Bilbo stared at Thorin in confusion. “Me?” he finally squeaked. “Why?”
“You’re the only good thing that has come out of this ordeal,” Thorin admitted sheepishly. “You had my back through the whole thing, and I wanted to show my…gratitude.” It was but half a lie, a euphemism really, he told himself encouragingly as he saw Bilbo’s face cycle through a multitude of contradicting feelings within a few seconds.
“Would it be too sad to invite your sister for dinner?” Bilbo quipped, but his voice was a little unsteady on the delivery of the snarky undertone.
“Oh, if I have to sit through another evening with a demanding, dissatisfied, disapproving female anytime soon, I’ll run mad,” Thorin groaned, “be she my sister or the currently reigning Miss Universe.”
“All right then,” Bilbo agreed, forcing his cheery nonchalance to the surface with all his might. “I reckon it cannot do me any harm to eat in another establishment for once. When is your reservation? I’ll see if I am free.”
“Whenever you are free,” Thorin replied just a little too fast and too fervently. “I’ve not settled a date yet—I wanted to check with you when you’d be available.”
Bilbo blushed furiously. It hit him like a ton of bricks that Thorin had not invited him because he had not found anybody else to go with him on a particular night—he had wanted Bilbo specifically to spend the evening with him in a fancy restaurant and had taken precautions in his planning of the outing to make it so.
Having watched Thorin jump through every imaginable flaming hoop in the name of being a good date, Bilbo of course knew how dedicated the other man was to these things, but he had never considered the possibility of ever being on the receiving end of such generosity and kindness himself.
“Tomorrow? I can find someone to man the fort for me—I’ve not taken time off in years, I think I deserve that,” Bilbo mused out loud.
“Tomorrow it is,” Thorin said, confident that he’d get a table for the next day. Bilbo could appreciate and even envy that kind of self-assurance and faith.
“Do I meet you there or…”
“I can pick you up here or…”
Lifting a slightly trembling hand to his burning cheeks, Bilbo scribbled his home address on a cocktail napkin and handed it over jerkily—it was surprisingly hard to pry his fingers off the cheap paper though.
“Shall we say 7 o’clock?” Thorin asked, his eyes gleaming with triumph and boundless joy.
Bilbo nodded, feeling increasingly like a wooden doll that had been turned into a real boy unexpectedly.
“Good, I am looking forward to it. Wear something nice!” Thorin chirped and turned to the door without having ordered a drink; usually, this went against the house rules and would have merited a stern scolding by Bilbo but, on this one occasion, the flustered barkeeper decided to make an exception.
“Thorin!” he called faintly. “You do know that I am gay, right?”
There, it was out. Bilbo thought that it had been implied and referenced often enough for Thorin to get the hint, but he wanted to make absolutely sure that neither one of them was misconstruing what would happen the next day.
“Hmmm,” Thorin hummed over his shoulder, winking at Bilbo with a flash of charisma he had not lavished liberally on his female dates. “That’s why I brought you flowers. There are more where those came from, you know?”
“I love flowers,” Bilbo exclaimed passionately before he could remember his good manners and remind himself not to look overeager or spoiled.
“Then you shall have them,” Thorin grinned. “See you tomorrow!”
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Bilbo snarled like a feral creature at this wardrobe; the old, weathered wood did not think his frustration worthy of a reply though and merely kept gaping at the fool its owner was making of himself out of its open drawers and doors.
“Wear something nice,” he muttered under his breath as he discarded the cream-coloured shirt he had been wearing for the last 5 minutes—he had given that one a longer chance than the five that had been tried and rejected before.
Picking up the third shirt again, he eyed it suspiciously. He liked the rich green colour and the fabric felt nice under his fingertips, but the cut was rather unfortunate as it would allow Thorin to see the smidgen of pudge he had not been able to get rid of. Pilates and conscious eating be damned!
Thorin was not a monster, he tried to remind himself; he had sat through dates with five women who had looked very different from one another, and he had not cancelled or aborted any of his meetings on account of their appearance.
Surely, he would not hold the negligible lack of perfect fitness against a man he had mainly seen only partially as Bilbo tended to hide behind the bar whenever he got flustered.
Nevertheless, Bilbo wanted to look his best, lest Thorin suspect that he was taking this date less than seriously. Maybe, he thought uncertainly, that would actually be for the better—just in case the brooding beauty had merely joked about the flowers.
Better not get his foolish hopes up! And he should hurry. And he had forgotten to comb his curls after the shower and now they had dried in a tangled mess. And it was almost time. And he had not even started on the trousers…
Just as he was about to have a panic attack on account of all the things he had clearly not considered well enough beforehand, Bilbo was interrupted in his downward spiral by the sound of his doorbell being rung.
Necessity and urgency made him jump into a nice pair of light brown trousers and pull the tight, green shirt over his unkempt head while shuffling towards the front door.
“Oh hey,” he huffed as he pulled it open, feeling like a proper romance novel hero.
Instead of the expected face—chiselled, bearded, and gleaming with mischief—he looked into a luscious bouquet of multi-coloured flowers.
“Good evening. Am I early?”
Checking his wristwatch and suppressing another groan, Bilbo assured Thorin that he was right on time. “I had a hard time choosing what to wear. Is this nice enough?”
The flowers were lowered instantly, and the electrifying glow of those startlingly blue eyes washed over a woefully agitated Bilbo appreciatively. “Absolutely perfect,” Thorin praise and extended his elbow to Bilbo. “Shall we?”
“2 minutes,” Bilbo promised, took the flowers, and dashed into the kitchen to put them into a vase. As he heard Thorin rummaging in the foyer, he allowed himself to bury his face in their fragrant beauty for a short moment before running back out and valiantly trying to slip into both his shoes at the same time.
“Don’t let my eagerness put any pressure on you,” Thorin said kindly. “We have time. I just thought we’d go there early so you can order the most complicated cocktail on the menu and watch someone else make it.”
“I am hardly that pitiless,” Bilbo snorted and shot back up as if pulled by a string. “I am all ready. Let’s go!”
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In the end, Thorin did convince Bilbo to order a fancy cocktail while ordering a beer for himself.
“Bottle of that one,” Bilbo tapped the fancy card laid out in front of him, “I’ve seen what you’ve got on tap, and I think this one will be much better appreciated!”
The barkeeper stared at him for a moment before shrugging and complying.
“Ah, to have one’s own barkeeper,” Thorin sighed contentedly. “This is already a better date than any of the others!”
“Glad to be of service,” Bilbo laughed and moved the basket with peanuts resolutely out of Thorin’s reach. “You’re snacking me out of a home,” he explained with a wink, “and we’re here to have dinner, so I won’t let you ruin your appetite by gorging yourself on nuts! They only put those out because they make you thirsty.”
Staring longingly at the snack, Thorin nodded nonetheless and turned his hungry, intense gaze fully on Bilbo.
While waiting for their table to be ready, they talked about their families, their friends, and their plans in life.
“I’ve always wanted to work with people, you know? I love the bar, but it’s not as if that was all I’ve ever dreamed of…” Bilbo said dreamily, berating himself only vaguely for having downed that cocktail much too fast on an empty stomach—he rarely indulged in alcohol himself as it made him emotional and much too honest.
“I know a guy who works in construction,” Thorin replied candidly. “If you ever want to expand the business, I can give you his card.”
“Sure thing,” Bilbo giggled and leaned back, only to realise—a moment too late—that the barstool did not have a backrest. A broad, strong hand kept him from toppling from his chair though and then, Thorin’s warm breath ghosted along the shell of his ear as he pushed a discreet card over.
“That is your card,” Bilbo snorted after a single glance. “Couldn’t you simply have given me your number?”
“After all the time you’ve spend fiddling with my phone, I think you could have simply saved yours in it!” Thorin shot back, a bit miffed.
“How do you know that I didn’t?”
“I’ve checked.”
There was not much Bilbo could say to that. “All right,” he grinned and pocketed the card. “I’ll call you. About the expansion. And other things. Depending on how this evening goes…No, actually, I think I’ll call you anyway, if only to yell at you!”
“Deal,” Thorin quipped and nodded at someone across the room. “The table is ready.”
Surprise and amazement surged within Bilbo as soon as he saw it—there were slim, white candles and pale pink roses. This truly was a table laid for an intimate date rather than a friendly dinner, and he couldn’t keep his cheeks from warming visibly.
For a single heartbeat, the world seemed to stop in its tracks and every truth he had ever accepted placidly slid out of place—Bilbo suddenly longed for more. He wanted to be brave enough to turn around and simply kiss Thorin, in front of a full restaurant and his extended family, he wanted to expand his business into serving real food and maybe even offering a few rooms for rent, he wanted more than the comfortable life of a well-liked bachelor. He wanted this—this table, this atmosphere, this man—forever.
And then, that uniquely fragile and heart-wrenching moment passed, and they went back to discussing everything and nothing.
When the first course was served, Thorin realised that there had not been a single uncomfortable silence in their conversation and that he felt relaxed and happy instead of tense and miserable in a potentially romantic setting which was the first time in long years.
“So, no news from your ladies?” Bilbo circled back to the subject that haunted him.
“Hmmm? Oh yes, some keep me posted about their life. I am a great listener and a cool friend to have,” Thorin replied easily, snatching a piece of bread out of the basket Bilbo had tried to move out of his direct line of sight.
“I know,” Bilbo commented dryly and gave the breadbasket back with an apologetic shrug.
“It’s all the same,” Thorin explained slowly between bites, “friendship and love, I mean. Most of the time, it just doesn’t click and then you’re better off as friends, wouldn’t you agree? No need to throw the baby out with the bathwater.”
Bilbo nodded cautiously. “Do you think the opposite can happen as well? Falling in love with a friend?”
Instantly, Thorin’s eyes lit up like a chemical fire. “Isn’t that the dream? Falling in love with a friend and being loved back? That’s what dreams are made of!”
For someone who had just dragged himself through his dates as if bearing a calvary, Bilbo thought. Thorin seemed very convinced of his theory and enthusiastic about the prospect that such a thing could happen to anyone.
“So, there’s still a chance for some of them?” Bilbo couldn’t believe his own words—why couldn’t he just let it go?
“No way,” Thorin immediately assured him. “Romantic, then platonic, then romantic again? I’m afraid that goes a bit too far. No, I just want to find someone I am comfortable with.”
He should not have agreed to the delicious bottle of wine Thorin had ordered and from which a discreet waiter kept filling up their glasses, Bilbo realised at the very moment his treacherous tongue went off like a shot. “Indeed,” he heard himself say, “I am convinced that you deserve so much better than these women. None of them has even tried to get to know you or has cared even one bit about whether you wanted a refill or were hungry, or bored, or uncomfortable.”
His voice kept growing louder and more animated and yet, Thorin merely grinned at him as if his clumsy rant was pure poetry. He looked so handsome in his white button-down and dark trousers that Bilbo somehow couldn’t stop himself from complaining about how he thought none of the women deserved a second chance as they had failed to express the appropriate level of appreciation for the kind, handsome, and charming man with whom they had had the honour of spending the evening.
“My glass was always full,” Thorin reminded Bilbo gently, “thanks to you. Moreover, you’ve healed my heart by pouring all the compliments you apparently thought I missed out on upon my undeserving head right now.” His sturdy hand came to rest on Bilbo’s pacifyingly. “They are no longer important; let’s talk about something pleasant instead. Did you like your flowers?”
“Of course,” Bilbo replied and nodded his head so vehemently that his curls fanned out like a golden halo. “That was a very nice gesture. What would you like to discuss then?”
Pressing his lips together to prevent any stupid, premature outburst to ruin his chances, Thorin collected his thoughts for a moment; he was astonished and delighted to notice that he had indeed learned something during the martyrdom of his recent dating history.
He also found that he didn’t really care at all—his tense shoulders relaxed, and his smile softened gradually as the stress of the last weeks just melted away. “Anything is fine by me, anything but them. What do you have planned for this weekend?”
“Work,” Bilbo snorted. “As any other day. I’ve thought about maybe trying to get a Sunday brunch thing going.” He tapped a finger against his plush, inviting lips pensively.
Thorin’s eyebrows travelled up his forehead as a new idea took hold in his head. “If I come by to look around the premises and tell you what is possible in terms of expansion, I’d take a test-brunch as my payment.”
“Is that so?” Bilbo cocked his head. “It would only be you and me though.”
“It’s only you and me now,” Thorin commented astutely. “Just the way I like things, as it turns out!”
“Well, then, by all means, be my guest. I’ll prepare a spread for you that you won’t forget!”
Somehow, Thorin did not doubt that for a single second. Bilbo was a man who truly enjoyed food; he had become the mesmerised witness of the profound and otherworldly pleasure his guest could take in a well-prepared meal, and he yearned to see that blissed-out expression on Bilbo’s soft, mobile features more often.
There were many things he longed for, now that he came to think of it: the amused little side-glance Bilbo gave him when he got extraordinarily huffy about something utterly irrelevant, the beaming smile a slightly buzzed Bilbo cracked whenever Thorin said something even remotely funny, and—more than anything else—the quiet gaze of solidarity and affection he had caught from the corner of his eye at times. Somehow, Bilbo seemed to intrinsically feel or know just what was needed to save Thorin from a disagreeable situation or an extended session of senseless brooding.
“Any allergies?” Bilbo asked, interrupting Thorin’s realisation that he could not remember ever having enjoyed a date half as much as this dinner.
“Hmm? No…sorry, I was miles away in my thoughts.”
“I could tell. Are you tired, do you want to skip dessert?” Bilbo asked gently, patting Thorin’s hand to make him understand that he was neither angry nor disappointed. “I feel like I’ve eaten my own weight already anyway.”
“Maybe,” Thorin replied with a wink, “next time? I have been told that Bombur’s chocolate soufflé is to die for.”
Bilbo’s eyes lit up at the word “soufflé” and, true to his nature, he didn’t need any more convincing or coaxing after that.
“By the way, I am not tired, no,” Thorin said when he saw a thickly laden spoon full of gooey deliciousness be ensconced firmly between Bilbo’s lips. “I was just thinking how much I like being here with you.”
“You don’t think I am a gluttonous pig?” Bilbo mouthed around his spoon, his eyes twinkling with good cheer and sugar-fuelled ecstasy.
“I don’t,” Thorin assured him; he had never given the gender of his potential partners much thought before. He had always surmised that he was just the kind of man who was only attractive to a select group of people that kept dwindling fast as the years went by—that set had been comprised of mainly women by chance or accident thus far, and Thorin had had no say in the matter or reason to contest that.
If that was about to change now, he thought placidly, he wouldn’t object to changing his habits and adapt his expectations to the reality of his prospects and desires.
Never in a thousand years would he have presumed to find such a comfortable and yet exciting potential lover in a surprisingly prim barkeeper with a wicked sense of humour and a deep love for flavourful food. Bilbo evidently loved life and—seeing him celebrate others’ successes without reticence or envy—reminded Thorin of how much he had sacrificed throughout his own existence.
“You make me feel alive,” he confessed, “the way you eat, the way you talk, the way you smile at me. It’s as if you could turn back the time and make me believe that it’s not too late for me to be happy. Is that cheesy?”
“Yes,” Bilbo nodded, licking his spoon, “but I love cheese. Actually, the olives they served with the bread. Do you know where they get them from?”
“They pickle or brine or marinate them themselves,” Thorin replied sheepishly. “I do not know. I am a mediocre cook.” That was a bold lie; his cooking was positively awful, but he didn’t want Bilbo to know. After this charming evening, Thorin would crawl to his sister and implore her to impart her valuable wisdom to redress that flaw as soon as he could.
“Hmmm, I wonder if they’d share the recipe,” Bilbo mused aloud. For a moment, Thorin was taken in by his casual musings, but then he realised that Bilbo’s eyes were just a smidgen too feverish now even though his initial inebriation had worn off long since.
“What is the matter?”
“Are you playing me, Thorin?” Bilbo asked in a quiet, shivering voice. “I am not like those women; I don’t put my heart on the line recklessly.”
“I am not. Why do you say that?”
“I’ve watched you go on dates with 5 women in about as many weeks,” Bilbo exclaimed, clapping his hand over his trembling lips when a few other stragglers turned to him in startled surprise or outright annoyance. “I…Do you even…”
“I don’t care,” Thorin said firmly, the conviction that he was on the right track constantly growing within his heart. “I just know that you make me feel good about the world, life, and myself. When you’re around, everything seems a little brighter and less fatal than I’ve always thought it’d be, and I want that in my life.”
“A friend,” Bilbo muttered. “I can be your friend—you’re an amazing person to be around and you’re, as always, too hard on yourself. You’re actually not so bad yourself and you’ve been the only source of entertainment these last few weeks—I really have to get something new going to spruce the old dig up.”
Me, Thorin thought desperately. In his mind, he could see it—a crystal clear vision of perfect bliss. He’d come to the bar after work and sit by the counter, telling Bilbo about his day.
His friends could come, and maybe his disastrous dates could become regulars as well, who knew? He certainly wouldn’t mind keeping them in his life as casual acquaintances.
Saturday sessions on the job site, Sunday brunches. Everything—his plans of letting his nephews slowly take over more important clients and bear more responsibility in the firm as well as Bilbo’s designs for his own place—suddenly made sense.
Despite the late hour, Thorin felt invigorated and refreshed as after a long and restful night.
“Bilbo,” he interrupted the frantic babbling about avocado toast and different swatches of pastel colours gently but firmly. “I am not asking you to be my friend.”
Thorin took out his wallet and left a generous tip, knowing that Bombur would send the actual bill to his office for discretion purposes. “Let’s go; it’s a fine night and I think we could both do with a little digestive walk, don’t you think?”
Nodding dumbly, Bilbo allowed himself to insert his hand into the crook of Thorin’s elbow and be led out of the fancy, by now almost entirely empty, restaurant as if he was indeed the guest of honour of the night. A soppy smile struggled to take hold of his mouth and distort it into an unforgivably silly expression of emotion, but he managed to bite it back just in time as Thorin’s luminous gaze fell upon his face.
“Oh, you were made to be seen under the stars,” Bilbo whispered as all the blues, blacks, and silvers of Thorin’s complexion melted into the background of a starry night sky to create an ephemeral work of art that was painted by the hands of fate just for his own momentary enjoyment. “If only I had known—I’d opened the outdoor seating for your dates.”
“Humbug,” Thorin chuckled. “They’d have fallen ill and I’d have had to foot the bill for their medical expenses. Thank you, but no, thank you.”
Steering Bilbo confidently, he took him to an outlook platform over a small river and they felt the cool night air make their hair dance in the fragrant breeze. The whole scene felt absolutely magical and otherworldly to Bilbo who sighed longingly under his breath.
“As much as I love your bar,” Thorin said in a low, vibrating voice, “there are many places I’d want to take a date outside of it. This is but one of those.”
Bilbo hummed patiently, turning up his face to bask in the beauty of his companion—he had only ever seen Thorin in the pub and, now that he had spent a whole evening with him, he had to agree. Indeed, he himself desired to see Thorin in other contexts: illuminated by flickering candlelight and bathed in the pale gleam of the moon, sitting in the blazing afternoon sun…and waking up to the first, shy rays of the nascent morning.
“I think,” Thorin went on, lifting his hand to grip Bilbo’s chin tenderly between his thumb and crooked index, “that I want to take you to those places. Are you game? You don’t have to…I mean…There’s no need to spare my feelings now out of pity only to break my heart later.”
Instantly, Bilbo’s own heart started throbbing in empathy and affection; Thorin had experienced so much rejection and disappointment lately that he came to simply expect that things would end badly for him.
Nonetheless, he had been brave enough to try something completely different and ask out someone who was not at all in the usual pool of potential partners for him—and he had done marvellously. Bilbo could not remember having ever gone on such a beautiful and utterly bewitching date before, and every fibre of his being dreaded the end of this night.
What if it had all been a dream?
“I’d love that,” he replied breathlessly, resolving to match Thorin’s reckless courage and giving in to foolish hope against all odds.
“Good,” Thorin grinned winningly.
A moment later, his lips—warm and sensual—brushed against Bilbo’s in a tentative kiss that felt like a caress and tasted sweet and refreshing like a splash of spring water.
Damn it, Bilbo thought hazily, and threw his arms around Thorin’s neck, giving his massive frame a vigorous tug until they collided in the stillness of the picturesque night scene like two meteors burning across the endless black backdrop.
Their kiss turned feverish, thrumming with words unspoken and questions unasked, while their hands roamed forcefully and desperately across each other’s backs and sides as if in search of something to hold on to as the world spun out of focus.
“I’ll come by on Sunday,” Thorin promised as he finally pulled back; his face radiated with joy in the ambient obscurity and his thumbs brushed caressingly against Bilbo’s shivering ribs. “And I’ve changed my mind about the price of my consultation. A brunch, yes, but also about two thousand more of these kisses. Generous as I am, I shall let you pay them off by regular instalments."
"Sounds like a deal,” Bilbo agreed, dizzy with relief and anticipation. “How about you come by Saturday night and allow me to make a down payment after closing time?”
“Ah, you’ve got a sound mind for business,” Thorin cackled, pulling Bilbo into a tight, warm embrace and leaning his bearded cheek against the top of the curly head of the shorter man tenderly. “I can see that we’ll get along just fine.”
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@lordoftherazzles, @mysandwichranaway thank you for your encouragement and your support.
Lots of love from me!
And all my gratitude to the Bagginshielders for having voted so fervently for their OTP; I hope I could bring this story to a satisfactory close for y'all.
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darthstitch · 1 year
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Bilbo Baggins deciding to adopt Dream of the Endless as one of his dwobbit children.
"Ah yes, you're a proper Baggins now, dear Morpheus or Lorien or Irmo or whatever name you'd like to choose. Tea is at 4, if you please."
"...Bilbo, ghivashel, did we just turn one of the Valar into a.... dwobbit?"
"I find myself rather partial to the idea. My husband would make an excellent dwobbit himself."
"Well, of course that husband of yours is welcome to join us! We have recipes to swap!"
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thorinswaggerson · 2 years
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Bilbo: *stepping through a line of trees and stopping in surprise* Oh! I didn’t know anyone else was at the hot springs.
Thorin: *nude and chest deep in steaming hot water* Hey.
Bilbo: I have a routine where I always show up at midnight, because by then, everyone else has already bathed, and no on can see me without my clothes on.
Thorin: Yup. Me too
Bilbo: But... I’ve never seen you here at midnight before, and I’ve been coming for several nights.
Thorin: ....
Thorin: That’s cuz I didn’t find out about your routine until earlier today. 
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lucigoo · 2 months
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In light of THIS post by Screaming cactus and my inspiered fic HERE with Bison Thorin and Highland bull Bilbo..... I present you with my next animal Au WIP with the working title of "The adelaide penguin and the pebble" (I am still writing it so bare with me) Emperor Penguin Thorin (and Co) and Adeladide Penguin Bilbo because I adore these size differences in similar animals. (Feel free to throw out any other animal AU's can use, if I can make them work I 100% will)
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ragsweas · 2 years
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Bilbo: oh, this Ereborian snack. I like it.
Thorin: *reading his report* hmm, thats good ghivashel.
The Next day...
Bilbo: Thorin why is our bedroom filled with baskets of snacks?
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lauramkaye · 4 months
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Okay so I was taking a bath with a fizz as you do and suddenly it hit me:
What if Steven Sondheim’s Company but it’s the Company of Thorin Oakenshield
Bobby is Bilbo, obviously. And I feel like possibly Ori should be Amy/Jamie because I feel like he could embody that neurotic spiral. Maybe Fíli could be Paul.
Nori is probably Joanne based on saltiness. Or possibly Oín is, and Nori and Dwalin are the couple who gets divorced and keeps living together after.
Either way “ladies who lunch” is about Thranduil now.
The birthday party naturally happens under the Party Tree.
“where you going?” / “Minas Tirith” / “Oh.”
…actually you know what this started out as a joke but “Being Alive” is kind of perfect for Bilbo in a sad way that makes me think of him living alone in Bag End for 80 years I MEAN marrying Thorin and becoming the Hobbit Queen of Erebor or whatever so there’s that.
Also my bath is cold now so bye
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smoking-old-toby · 3 months
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dwalin: so our burglar is pretty easy on the eyes, wouldn't ya say thorin?
thorin, beet red: I DON'T KNOW OF WHAT YOU SPEAK! HE IS THE UGLIEST HOBBIT I'VE EVER SEEN
bilbo, minding his own business: what the fuck
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spoopyoopy · 10 months
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He also asked for no pickles
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boromorous · 2 years
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All i keep thinking about is how bilbo would have a neck cramp whenever he talks to man!thorin now. Oh! Not having to look up at Elves is a plus! (That meme on how to talk to short people but with bilbo and thorin kept going back in my head though im so sorry!)
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Thorin never learned tall person etiquette!
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bagginshieldlibrary · 11 months
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Back with a Hobbit crackhead take
Thorin and Bilbo's favorite Disney movie is Encanto
Thorins favorite song from the movie is surface pressure
And Bilbo's is waiting on a miracle
Fili and Kili sing "we don't talk about Bruno" at the top of their lungs everyday. The company hates it.
I will not be taking questions at this time.
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madamebaggio · 11 months
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“Attention, please.”
*total chaos around*
“Everyone.”
*something breaks in the background*
“Hey! We need to…”
“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP SO BALIN CAN TALK!”
*dead silence*
“Thank you, Dwalin.”
“Hum.”
“As you all know, Bilbo and Thorin’s anniversary is coming up, and I’m not sure Thorin will survive to see the day.”
“I’m not sure Bofur will survive after he told Bilbo he’d told everyone about the gift.”
“Hey!”
“Honestly, I’m willing to sacrifice Bofur. I’m more worried about our King.”
“HEY!”
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