#dale gets a secret weapon too

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Three

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41189829/chapters/118476739

Warnings: Violence and Death (nothing too graphic, but its prevalent enough I wanted to mention it)

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine][Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] Part Twenty-Three [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

But time is slipping through your fingers. You make your decision and pray it’s the right choice. 

“Dale!”

There’s a second of silence before muffled confusion is evident from the hallway on the other side of the door followed quickly by pounding footsteps. Vi spares you a glare, but Clen seems unconcerned, merely readying his crossbow.

The door bursts open before anything else can happen and you can’t help but flinch as it hits the wall.

Framed in the doorway is an alert and worried Dale, his mouth in a hard frown and his hand already on the hilt of his sword. You watch as his eyes land on the four strangers arrayed in front of him. He draws his sword before he unerringly finds you and the unconscious Grandmother. That’s when fury ignites in his eyes.

“What is happening here?” Dale asks, his voice outraged as he takes stock of the situation. 

“Northridges simply enjoy asking after the obvious, do they not?” Clen asks Lasky before looking back to Dale. He lifts his crossbow and aims directly at you. Instantly you tense, ready to drop to your knees and out of range behind the heavy wooden desk. You freeze where you are because that would leave Grandmother a free target. “This is a kidnapping, your lordship. If you don’t cooperate with us, your fiance and grandmother are forfeit. Surrender now. Prove yourself more intelligent than the rest of your ilk.” 

Keeping your dagger in your strong hand, you grope blindly on the desk for something to use as a shield, cursing yourself for not thinking of grabbing such a thing earlier. As your fingers close around the ink mat, a sturdy leather mat to absorb any ink that might seep through when writing, your eyes meet Dale’s. You can almost see a cold certainty enter them before they slide back to Clen.

“No. You may surrender or run,” Dale retorts. “I’ll not go with you nor will I allow you to continue to threaten my kin.”

“Oh, lordling,” Lasky coos, “You’ve barely begun to hear threats. Wait until you learn of my plans for your spouse-to-be. Not that you will continue to live for much longer, but I doubt you’d still wish to marry after I’m through.” 

You swallow down bile and hope Dale hurts him.

Dale growls, a dark, rolling sound that fills the room. You shiver, feeling it resonate through you, and quickly check to see that Grandmother has not yet awoken. The mixture of concern and relief that fills you at that fact doesn’t help any of your nerves settle, not that you expect them to for several days—provided you live that long.

“Do not—” Clen warns before cutting himself off with a curse as Dale charges. He manages a single shot in your direction before he’s forced to meet Dale’s sword with his own. The shot is still good enough that it hits your makeshift shield of an ink mat. The arrowhead pierces through the leather to scrape your arm and knock it back, but it doesn’t make it any further than that through the mat.

The clatter of the crossbow hitting the floor is nearly masked by the shouts and grunts as Clen, Vi, and Lasky begin fighting with Dale. Your eyes find Two, but he’s watching the fight, not you. Dale has managed to get his back to a wall, limiting his opponents ability to surround him. They’re appearing to have trouble ganging up on him without hitting each other, limiting their approach. 

With no better opportunity, you place your dagger down on the desk and open the closet door. You grasp the back of the chair Grandmother is on and begin tugging it is in towards the closet. You choose to keep your eyes forward towards the fight instead of putting yourself between Grandmother and the action. Hopefully if you see anything coming your way, you can intercept it before she gets further hurt. 

The chair is heavy, but you’re terrified, especially since you no longer have even your thin dagger in hand. The adrenaline seems to help as you drag the chair across the rug, grateful at least there’s no sound to alert the others to what you’re doing. The three assassins currently trying to fight Dale seem to have fallen into a pattern, with Clen engaging Dale’s sword and Vi trying to get at him with her spear from the side, herding him towards the opening in the wall to another side room. Lasky waits in that room, a seemingly endless supply of knives in his hands.

True to your suspicions, both Clen and Lasky seem to have some sort of  demonic enhancement to themselves or their weapons, although they remain clearly unpossessed. Clen has a strength to his movements that matches Dale’s own while Lasky’s daggers seem to come back to his sheaths when they miss. You eye the knife lodged in Dale’s leg and wonder if it's a good thing they don’t pull out to return when stuck.

You cross the threshold into the closet and have to focus on maneuvering in the much tighter space. It seems to primarily hold cabinets for files which you realize once you back into an ornate handle. It’s at a perfect height to jab painfully into your neck and prevent you from pulling the chair the final few inches into the closet.

You side-shuffle out from between the cabinet and the chair, mind racing as you check if the chair even will fit. The top of it is just under the height of the handle so you think you can manage it. You scoot around in front of the chair, a nervous glance over your shoulder to see the fight still raging, a confusing knot of bodies and weapons that you can’t make heads or tails of except that Dale is still holding his own. 

Kneeling down, you lift the front legs of the chair off the ground so they can get over the higher board marking the entrance to the closet and heave. After a few seconds of straining which feel like an eternity,  the chair finally moves those last few inches, thudding into the back cabinet and fully crossing over the threshold into the closet. You set the chair down, trying not to dwell on how it’s likely a bad sign that Grandmother hasn’t woken up for any of this movement.

You get to your feet, glad you’d pushed the chair towards the middle of the closet even before you’d realized how shallow it is. That leaves room on either side for you to fit in. Unfortunately it means that it’ll take too long to turn the chair around and try to wedge it against the door. Or maybe that’s a good thing because your hands are shaking and your palms sting where the wood of the back and legs had dug into your palms. You half close the closet door as you turn around. You're even more nervous now, after having your eyes off the fight for so long. You need to see if there’s anything nearby that might work as a wedge instead and check on the fight.

Dale seems to have gotten more room to breathe, the others all pushed back, but he’s in that doorway, with little at his back to guard it. Lasky takes advantage of that space before Dale can, sending a series of knives flying at him. Dale deflects two and dodges the other two. Unfortunately, with Lasky on the other side of Dale from you, you realize with a jolt of terror that sends the dodged knives in your direction.

One lodges into the desk, but the other flies just over it. You try to move out of the way and you manage—mostly. The knife lodges solidly in the closet door and through your skirts, pinning them in place. 

“Darkest damn—” You can’t help but let a minced oath out as you frantically begin pulling on your skirts, trying to get free. How the knife was sharp enough to pierce the fabric of your skirts but not enough to rip them now is proving nearly as frustrating as it is terrifying. 

You glance back at the fight and your eyes meet Lasky’s. Desperately, you reach for the knife hilt instead while your other hand fumbles to pick your own dagger up again. You swallow when you notice Lasky is indeed circling the fight, heading for you. You grip the hilts of both daggers so hard the little imperfections on then dig into your palms.

You point your own in the direction of Lasky’s approach while continuing to tug futilely on the dagger pinning you in place. Nothing you do seems to budge it and your hand keeps slipping off given how much you're sweating. You give up on pulling and start to simply shove at the hilt with the palm of your hand. 

“Did I pin a pretty little butterfly?” Lasky asks. He’s got another dagger in his hand, but he comes to a stop a few feet from you.

You keep your eyes on him, but don’t answer, giving the hilt of the dagger another strike with your palm. You feel it wiggle and wrap your fingers around it. If you can move, you don’t want him to know in case the element of surprise will help. 

At the same time, where can you go? Or rather, can you afford to leave grandmother? She’s hidden now, but if one of these assassins decides they need her or just wants revenge when the inevitable becomes clear. Dale is the only one here who you know will walk away from this fight. Whether everyone else, including yourself and Grandmother, will is still to be determined. 

“Did I nick your tongue too?” he taunts. “Do not pretend to misunderstand what your role is. Your little lord is proving more of a challenge than we expected, especially since Two isn’t helping.” 

You think he grimaces at that, but it’s hard to tell with his mouth covered. Still, for all his taunts, he’s clearly strung a lot tighter than he had been before. Good. 

“So you are going to help bring him to heel, as intended.” He flips the dagger in his hand in a deliberate move to show off. You chance a glance behind him to see Dale finally pushed into the side room and out of your line of sight. You’re certain the idea that you did manage to make eye contact with him is just false hope. You have to figure out how to get out of this yourself. And right now, running isn’t an option.

“You are not going to win this,” you reply, your voice a little rough, but still intelligible and not obviously full of fear, hopefully. “You should leave.”

He takes a step closer instead. “Just because he didn’t immediately fold, doesn’t mean he will triumph,” Lasky corrects, some anger coloring his voice. “He’s outnumbered and once Two remembers why they’re here, he’ll be outclassed.”

“Then should you not be aiding your companions?” you ask, trying to tug on the dagger with as little obvious movement of your arm as possible. Anything to keep from drawing Lasky’s attention to what you’re doing.

The lines by his eyes crinkle, he must be smiling under that mask. You feel more dread pool in your stomach. “Do you not see? That is what I’m doing. For all your threats, you’re no real match for me and while I still do not have any rope, I’m just as capable as taking out an eye as you are, if not more so. You need to remember who you are dealing with and surrender.”

A noise from behind—something heavy crashing into the wall and possibly a bookcase given the cacophony that follows—draws both your attention. Unfortunately, Lasky refocuses just as quickly as you do and so you’re still in a stalemate, both holding daggers, but truly, there isn’t a contest here. There is no question who will this fight, just what the collateral damage could be.

You hate this. You hate everything about this situation, from the fighting and Grandmother’s condition, to Dale in a fight against multiple opponents. Most of all you hate this man in front of you.  But what can you do?

Another smash and thud sounds from behind Lasky, but he doesn’t bother turning to look this time, just takes another step closer. He steps to the side, blocking your sight-line to the rest of the fight although not before you see a figure thrown across the room. You can’t even hope to identify who.

With another step, you give up on the pretense and give a final pull. This time the dagger is freed from the wall and you take a stumbling step down along it, away from Lasky. You hastily bring that knife up to bare as well, holding one in each hand. You’ve had no training in the use of two daggers or even much training at all with your non-dominant hand. 

It’s clear Lasky knows that too, his confidence is obvious. The secondary reason for that becomes evident when the knife in your hand that belongs to him starts to tug. You’d thought if you were holding it, it wouldn’t try to return to him, like when it had been stuck in the wall, but apparently that’s not true. It fights your grip, attempting to go to Lasky and into its sheath on his arm like the others had.

You hold on tight, not wanting him to be further armed even if you don’t know how to wield it well yourself. He takes another step forward and you take another to the side. You notice that he’s steering you away from the relative safety the desk might have afforded you. The only good thing is that he seems to have completely forgotten about the fight going on behind him. Unfortunately, whenever you move to compensate, he blocks your own view. 

Finally he breaks the stalemate you’ve been locked in and rushes forward. You hastily stumble backwards along the wall, unwilling to give up the, perhaps false, feeling of safety it gives you. He slashes at you with his greater reach and you try to dodge, but you can feel his strike connected. Luckily, between the fabric of your dress and the manner in which the corset is boned you’re not pierced or cut by the blade. However, on his pull back, he catches your arm, slicing it and leaving a hot line of pain on your underarm that makes you cry out.

Your mind spins as the attack throws off your balance. You try to ignore the drip of blood down your arm, the sting of the cut, and the satisfaction in his eyes. Your palms are sweatier than ever and you have to focus on not trembling. The pull from his own dagger has only gotten stronger. With half an idea in your head about that, you kick out, slashing with your dagger more in the hopes of gaining back even a foot of space. 

It works, you catch some part of him, and he curses as he takes a step backward. “Would you simply stay—”

You lower your center mass and just as he raises his arm for a stab from above, attempting to use his height to get at your throat or chest, you release your grip on his dagger. In such close quarters, it doesn’t have time to turn or aim effectively. Given the strength it had been pulling at, it’s out of your hand like it was shot from a slingshot. Between your attempt at aiming and Lasky’s own speed, it misses its sheath entirely. The blade sinks into his armpit instead and he screams in pain.

Lasky’s fingers release the dagger held in that arm as his other hand clutches at the knife now embedded in him. You don’t waste any time standing there, immediately retreating, trying to find somewhere else to go, somewhere else to hide—anything to keep him away from you.

Should you go for the courtyard? Two’s no longer guarding that door—at least as far as you can tell, who knows if he needs to be near it to stop you from leaving. You feel a pang of guilt and regret for no longer staying to guard Grandmother, but with Lasky specifically focused on you and no real way to hold him off, you’re no use to her except to distract from her. The closet door was slammed shut so hopefully these assassins will just forget she’s even there. 

You head back towards where you came from originally, where Lasky’s been herding you. Hopefully you can find some of the Governor’s guards—or anyone, really. You sloppily knock over any chairs, ottomans, side tables you come across—anything to slow down your pursuer as you go. A wild, likely foolish part of you wants to run towards Dale. For all the fight still raging, and him already dealing with multiple opponents, you know he’d try to protect you. But your presence would just make his fight harder. Right?

“You bitch,” Lasky’s voice is ragged with pain and you hear his heavy footfalls getting closer as you round a short couch. “Get—” Whatever words he was going to say next are cut off by a thump and a wet gurgle. Unable to help it, you turn around.

Lasky’s already much closer than you expected, his eyes wide with surprise as he looks down at the raw spike of iron protruding from his chest. You identify it as a fireplace iron and look beyond him to see Dale’s back disappearing from the doorway.

A gasping cough brings your focus back to Lasky in time to see him collapse over the back of the couch and stop moving. You pant where you stand, feeling staggered by the sudden absence of an immediate threat. You can’t dwell on Lasky’s death, you can barely process your gratitude to Dale—there's only relief that Lasky’s not capable of hurting you anymore. 

Should you return to Grandmother? You hadn’t actually gotten that far with how messy the room is. Hide in that closet to defend her if need be? Hadn’t you just proved how ineffective you’d be at such a task? You got in one good blow that was more accident than anything and still needed Dale to—. 

You hesitate and absently use your dagger to finish a cut made to the fabric of your dress. You take the strip of cloth and wrap it around your bleeding arm. The sudden pressure on the wound makes you flinch and grit your teeth against the renewed pain. 

Just as you secure that makeshift bandage in place and resolve to leave to find help, Vi comes running full speed out of the side room. You know the moment she spots you because she changes direction, heading for you. Immediately, you try to run for the door, but she anticipates your movement. She runs around wide, blocking that as a viable exit. 

Without thought, you turn, heading back the way you came and for the courtyard. She’s fast though, faster than you with her sturdy boots and training while your skirts and soft shoes only slow you down. She catches you just before the desk and closet you’d started this mad dash from.

A side hit from the spear bruises your side and you cry out as you are spun around. There’s desperation in her eyes as Vi lunges to cover that last few feet between you. She slams you back against the wall, her spear shaft across your throat. Your wrists too are pinned up in the skilled maneuver. Her wide, terrified eyes bore into yours. “What the fuck is he? You’re going to—”

The clash of metal on metal followed by a wet cough and a triumphant growl from the other room cuts her off. You only try to wrestle her for control briefly. You’re no match for her strength. Instead, you try desperately to wriggle your hands free, trying only to get more room to breathe. Your head is tilted back, your throat throbbing as she fixes her gaze back on yours. You try to say something, you don’t even know what, but she doesn’t give you a chance.

“They lied, he’s not human,” she spits. “He’s a skinwere.” It’s clear Dale’s revealed enough of himself that she knows he’s possessed, not enhanced. Another word for a possessed human is a demon wearing human skin or skinwere for short. It’s a very negative term and you think she might be local—you’ve heard that term used more in Northridge than even at school. No wonder she’s scared out of her mind. 

She must be able to tell you’re not surprised by the news because her eyes narrow, “You knew.” It’s not a question, but you can’t speak or even move your head to answer anyway. She doesn’t seem to need you to. 

She pushes against you with her spear, completely cutting off your air before she pulls back enough to let you speak. You cough, gulping in air as she orders, “Tell me how to kill it. Tell me—”

Before she can make any more demands, you drop your whole body down heavily. There was enough space now between the spear and the wall to let you, although it still wrenches your wrists and hands painfully. Your head hits the wall as you tilt it back to allow the movement.

Wrists and head hurting from the spear, backside throbbing from smacking into the ground as a dead weight, you’re moving before you can think about it. Crawling around her legs on your hands and knees. You scurry towards anything that can be perceived as safe. The sound of something heavy being flung into the wall makes you flinch.

A heavy blow to your back makes you yelp, collapsing onto your stomach. “You’re not going anywhere,” Vi snarls, the butt of her spear, pressing down with insistent force. “Not until—”

The pressure abates abruptly and you turn on your side to see something long and black around her wrist, pulling her weapon off of you. Your vantage point, combined with your throbbing head, makes it hard to follow all the action, but it looks like a black snake that Vi tries to tug off with a yell. 

She draws a knife with her free hand to strike the black thing, but the crack of bone breaking causes her to scream as her spear drops from her limp hand. It falls harmless to the floor. You manage to pick it and throw it far away. You know she’d be more capable of taking it from you than you would be at wielding it.

Vi finally looks behind her, following where the solid shadow stretches from and screams at whatever she sees. You only see another long dark ribbon of tangible blackness wrap around her neck before she’s pulled backwards with a strangled sound. She disappears out of your sight. 

Another thwack and gasping whimper make you wince, paralyzed on the floor, mind unable to decide what to do next. 

You hear footsteps heading for you accompanied by a tap of wood on wood. Then you hear a worried, “Sana?” 

Relief floods your body and you desperately need to see Dale, to reassure yourself that despite the horrible clashes and yells, the violence and the destruction, he’s whole. No matter what he must look like given what you’ve seen and how his voice still has an echoing, deep quality to it. You brace yourself on your palms to push yourself up. Opening your mouth to answer him, you’re interrupted by a crack before you can.

“I knew it,” an unfamiliar voice meets your ears. It has a strange, otherworldly grit to it and you freeze instantly. “How all these other humans are so blind, I’ve no notion.”

Dale hisses, “Hide,” before you hear him move away from you and towards the voice. You follow his suggestion, too cowed by the return of the threat to want to do anything else. Half crawling and half dragging your tired body, you tuck yourself under the heavy wooden desk.

“As though you are a paragon of subtlety,” Dale snaps back. He’s clearly nearly in that other side room once more, but his voice carries more than perhaps he’s even aware. 

“Ah,” the voice concedes, the sound carrying just as easily. Is that a demon power? you wonder with only slight delirium, projecting your voice? “ But I am not trying to be. Neither of us are.”

“Us?”

“Yes,” a far more human voice replies this time. “Us.” The two voices overlay on that word before the more inhuman voice continues, “We are not all so rude as to kick out the original owner. Some of us know what it is to share.”

You realize it’s Two, who has apparently decided to finally enter the fight and who’s strange nickname suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“I care not how many of you are fitted in that body,” Dale replies. “You’ll do no more harm here. You’ll not fulfill your mission.”

“Perhaps,” the casual menace of this voice is not intimidated by Dale’s confidence or orders. “Or perhaps there is simply more to be gained and less to be shared.”

Dale must see no more reason in talking because there is only the sound of movement and metal after that. Grunts sound from all three voices, perhaps more distinct given your inability to see and only to hear. They’re not enough to tell you who’s winning and you’ve no notion of how Dale stands in contest with another actual demon. Neither are likely attempting to hide their natures, but is that an advantage to one or the other? Or a wash?y

Does the Two being both help or hinder them? They had also implied that Dale was not sharing his own form, which meant the human who had been Dale was gone, didn’t it? Neither of them are mentioning Clen, so is he dead too? What sort of creature was the demon in Two? You know demons vary wildly, even the intelligent ones, in a manner far greater than humans did, what if this one was more powerful than Dale? 

It feels like ages of simply listening, though in reality is likely only a minute or two. You can’t take knowing so little about what is happening. You hesitantly move forward and cautiously kneel up to see just over the surface of the desk. 

They’re indeed still in the other room, moving so fast you can hardly tell who’s who. Front he glimpses you catch, neither of them are in forms that are entirely human anymore. Part of the fight seems almost mundane, the swords meeting and breaking apart as they circle, engaging and dodging stabs and slashes. The shadows in the room move unnaturally and at least two seem to be even more independent than that. They whip around Dale to meet and deflect animate stonework, colored grayish-green with a rusty red shot through it. The rock seems both to come from the columns and walls of the room beyond, despite looking nothing like ones in this room, and from nothing at all.

Your heart is nearly in your throat as Dale’s shadows seem as if they would be far weaker than something so sturdy. A big chunk of stone falls from the ceiling causing Dale to need to dodge to the side. He catches Two’s sword stroke awkwardly as a result. A clatter reveals that he’s been disarmed. His sword sent flying from his hand to land behind Two. 

Dale retaliates with a riot of shadows which erupt between them and forces Two back. It also nearly leaves them out of sight of the doorway and you straining to follow what’s happening. Dale’s back is to you and only half his body visible, while Two’s nearly on the other side of that room. From what you can tell he’s beginning to resemble a statue more than a person, if a moving one.

“I believe you’re unarmed now,” Two says with a smirk.

“I do not need a weapon to be armed,” Dale snarls, the shadows of the room flickering dizzyingly. His entire body seems more amorphous than ever before. You think he looks taller than he typically is, but thinner too. The arm you can see is oddly shaped, as if it is bare but also, more like a medical mannequin from class—bone and muscle with no fat to be seen. He brandishes his hand to better display the black claws he now has. In fact, you’re certain he’d been wearing a green suit earlier, but it’s black now too. Even his dark hair is even darker, untied and wild, longer than it should be. 

You keenly appreciate Dale’s rebuttal, but you still hate that his sword is gone from his hand while one remains in Two’s. They shift their stance and you automatically try to compensate with your position to keep your view. You bump into a lamp that’s been knocked to the floor.

As you push it to the side, something on the ground catches your attention. You peek around the edge of the desk to get a better look and very deliberately don’t look too closely at Vi’s body, only a few yards away. Instead you focus on the long, thin piece of polished wood instead. Dale’s cane. 

Instantly, you know you need to get this to Dale and more than that, you want to do something, anything to help him. Carefully, you put your hands down on the cold stone floor to steady yourself. Then you move just far enough out from behind the desk to grasp the foot of the cane and pull it towards you. 

You grasp it firmly in your hands and peer back over the top of the desk, checking to make sure that Dale’s still the one closest to the doorway. 

Once you see that he is, you call out, “Dale!” Then you lean up high on your knees and throw the cane like you’ve seen others throw a javelin. It soars through the air and into the further room where Dale and Two are tangled in a confusing knot of shadow and stone. 

They break apart at the sound of your voice and Dale leaps backwards as if propelled by some of the shadows under him. A hand, black, like he’s wearing gloves or dunked his arm in ink, and clawed, snatches the cane out of the air with careful precision. You think you see the glint of a blue eye on the back of his hand, practically the only color standing out against his form now.

“Will that do you any good?” Two asks, seemingly curious more than anything as he watches Dale hold the cane. You can’t tell if his lack of anger over this fight, the way he keeps treating it like a tournament fight for entertainment, is a good thing or not.

Dale says nothing, merely twists the handle. He carefully pulls off the wood to reveal a long green rapier.

“Jade,” Two hisses, taking a full step back. “A dangerous weapon for one such as ourselves to wield.”

“All weapons are dangerous,” Dales replies brusquely. “Humans regularly use weapons as deadly to themselves as they are to their enemies.”

“How adaptable. All the shade in your nature, I presume,” Two says, a mocking edge to his tone.

“You are not the only one who can use stone to their advantage,” Dale bats back as easily. 

Two lets out a bark of laughter and the sound seems to come from far more than two mouths, let alone one. You would give nearly anything for him to never do that again. “It has been so long since I spoke with one of us with intelligence still left to them up here. The sunlight seems to drive too many insane. Almost a shame to kill you.”

“A good thing then,” Dale says as he charges, “that you will not.”

The visibility of the fight becomes impossible after that. There’s too much movement from shadows and they move further into the room. You’re back to primarily trying to gauge the fight based on sound alone: thuds and crashes and ripping that you can’t identify.

“So close. But perhaps you are correct,” it’s the human voice this time, panting but not demoralized. Some of the sight line clears and you see Two hunched over, a hand on their chest. “I shall not be able to kill you nor collect the bounty so generously placed on your head.” They pick up their head, “However, the knight had the correct idea.” 

“Yes,” the grating demonic voice picks up and they slowly straighten. “I’m certain you must have supplies or books worth perusing. I can tell your form is impeccable underneath, despite your essence spilling out. This body, with him intact, still gets a bit stiff if I’m not careful. I shall be intrigued to ascertain how you accomplished such a thing.”

“You think I will allow you to leave?” Dale hisses. “After all you’ve done.” He throws a hand out to emphasize the general state of destruction around them.

Two laughs and it's one of the most unsettling things you’ve ever heard. It has a screech to it that makes your skin crawl. You are resisting the urge to cover your ears or yell yourself in order to drown him out when he looks over and meets your eyes. His dirty red eyes, the color of dried blood, bore into yours across the distance and he rushes for you.

He crosses the distance faster than he should be able to you and there’s a ripple in the walls that seems to respond to him. Panic seizes your heart and mind as you instinctively dive back down and under the desk. Your hands desperately latch onto and drag a broken ottoman to cover the open part of the desk.

Curling up behind it, you feel something slam into the makeshift shield, pushing you and the desk back, the wood squealing against the floor as it moves. A wordless roar comes from further away and another crash echoes through the room. The sound of what you think are books falling to the floor and a heavy grunt follow.

Then, silence.

You cough a few seconds later, unable to help it due to all the dust the stone moving has kicked up. You think you hear a smothered groan while you attempt to stop, but you stay rooted in your hiding spot, waiting.

After another dull thump, Dale calls your name. His voice is still strange and yet you can hear the confusion and worry in it. You can hear a lot more than that actually. Your eyelids flutter despite being unable to see anything other than dust and dingy wood. 

Your name sounds different than when he’s said it in the past. There is a depth to it, meaning below the surface that you can hear when he’s like this. Like emotion and inflection and neither of those. 

There’s a layer of softness, of imagery that it conjures up, that you can almost feel through his voice. Of gentle sunlight through the window on a clear day. Your favorite chair and the taste of fresh, sweet honey melting on your tongue, soothing and comforting. Its respect and harmony and the potential to be more than you are alone, of joining and of belonging. Tension leeches from you in waves, like taking off so many heavy coats to stand unburdened. You want to drown in the sensation, you want to hear him say nothing, but your name for the rest of your life.

You want to come out, to go to him, regardless of what you might see. Hesitantly, you push the ottoman away and start to crawl out from beneath the desk. Shakily, you stand up and turn to face Dale.

To your surprise, he looks far more human than the glimpses you’d gotten of him during the fight. His eyes still glow unnaturally and his hair is too long and wild. He’s roughly the correct height again with no too tangible shadows or extra eyes, though you’re not looking at his hands on purpose. His skin for the most part is a shade of human coloring once more. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding either, no obvious large wounds or injuries. 

You can’t handle a direct conversation about his nature now, not after all of this, and so you look beyond him to assess the rest of the situation, although you can tell by a feeling in the air that Two is gone.

The room beyond him does look as though the bookcase closest to you had been tipped over or thrown towards the desk, but Dale is standing in such a way as to suggest he’d caught it before it fell. His free hand is also held open in a gesture towards the wall behind you, where you can see large bricks of rock have come loose, though not enough to threaten the integrity of the wall itself.

You meet his eyes once again and he finally relaxes, shoulders drooping as you both stand in the aftermath. Then he’s striding forward and the cool fingers of his free hand grip your chin as he examines you.

“I am fine,” you say, which would probably be more convincing if you couldn’t feel tears dripping down your cheeks. His eyes rake up and down your form, obviously trying to assess that for himself before finally settling back on your face once he’s done. 

Something that might be relief starts to spread over his face until he freezes. He withdraws his hand abruptly from your face, tucking it behind him with a speed you don’t bother to try to match. Instead you resist the urge to sway towards, wanting his touch once more as it had felt grounding.

Then he blinks, his eyes darting around the room with renewed concern. “Where?” Dale asks.

After a second of confusion, you realize who he’s asking after. Your hand closes around the door handle for the closet and you pull the door open to reveal a still unconscious Grandmother hidden away safely.

You grab one arm of the chair and Dale the other as you pull it out from the closet. You don’t even care that he’s clearly doing the majority of the work. It takes a second before you can see her chest moving with her breathing. 

“Grandmother will be too,” you say, not sure who you’re trying to convince more.

“Good,” Dale says. He carefully brings a human thumb to wipe away your tears with a tenderness that does not match the danger that lingers in the way he still holds himself. You can’t help but lean into his touch, the safety he offers, if only to you. “It would only be worse for them if you were not.” His eyes slide to Grandmother’s unconscious form and menace seems to drip from his voice. “It shall be bad enough for them as it is.” 

You jump at the sound of a door opening, looking past Dale to see two of the governor’s guards walk in. They stop, gaping in the doorway.

Dale straightens, ignoring the reinforcements that have finally shown up. He doesn’t respond to Grandfather’s concerned voice calling his name and Grandmother’s and even your own. His head swivels to the direction of the courtyard, where Two went.

Fear grips your heart and your hand lands on his forearm, “No.” He doesn’t look back at you either. He gently, but inexorably pulls out of your grasp. You can’t stop him, you know that you can’t, but you can’t stand the thought of him leaving, of him pursuing this threat. “No. Dale. Don’t go after him!”

He ignores you, jade rapier in hand, and runs out into the courtyard.

“Damn you,” you say, voice tight as you try to stop more tears from welling up. What if he’s found out? What if Two can do more to hurt him? What if there are others in wait and he’s outnumbered? What if—? You wipe your eyes more harshly than perhaps you need to as you force yourself to focus on what you can do, who you can help.

While the other guards race to follow Dale, Grandfather hurries across the room to be on the other side of the chair, calling Grandmother’s name. You can feel her breathing, but you need to see if her heart is in trouble. You check her pulse as you tell him, “We need a doctor. Now.”

[Part Twenty-Four]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #nothing's wrong with dale #dale #story part #terato #exohilia #monster romance #monster bf #reader #male monster #osha compliant #slow burn #arranged marriage #this chapter is a beast #its literally the longest chapter int he whole story so far #probably should have been cut in half #but i couldn't do that to you #dale gets a secret weapon too #fight fight fight #lots of moving parts in this one #hope its lived up to everyone's expectations! #tell me what you think!

[hannahmanderr]

DannyMay Day 9 - Ghost Zone

this one kind of got thrown together at the last minute, whoops

Words: 1,257

Summary: The A-listers manage to get themselves trapped in the Ghost Zone. Good thing the Prince is with them! Sadly, said Prince is about two seconds away from having a conniption over the whole thing. (FFN)

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

“If this is where ghosts are supposed to live, I’m never gonna die. This place is so boring.”

Danny gritted his teeth. Don’t snark back, don’t snark back, he told himself in a desperate attempt to keep from lashing out at Paulina’s comment. 

It would be a heck of a lot easier if she and the rest of the A-list cronies would quit making jabs at his kingdom.

“The dead have feelings too, you know,” he said, failing to keep the sass out of his voice.

Well. At least he could say he tried.

Ashley sniffed. “I’m with Pauli. You’d think with all those cool powers and stuff, they’d live somewhere more interesting.”

“Yeah! I mean why else do they keep trying to take over the world?” Dash added. “Probably ‘cause our world is better.”

It took every ounce of Danny’s self-restraint to stop himself from whirling around with blazing green eyes and dishing out a strongly worded lecture about just how rude they were being at this point.

Except if he did that, they would undoubtedly have questions about the eyes and why he was being so defensive of the ghosts. Not to mention he was still getting a hang of the whole Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms thing, and he didn’t know if he could keep from accidentally summoning the crown and ring in such a high-emotion state. So yeah, probably not the smartest idea.

Still though, they needed to shut their mouths before someone overheard them and decided to teach them their own lesson. He liked to think that no ghost would be so stupid as to attack a group of humans, especially with him right there, but ghosts had a bit of a tendency not to think things through, particularly in situations that involved personal matters. And disrespect towards their home definitely constituted a personal matter.

Danny inhaled deeply. “You guys do realize you’re basically doing the equivalent of walking into someone else’s house and insulting it, right?”

“What? I thought you said those doors led to their homes,” Kwan said. He genuinely seemed confused as he looked back and forth.

Don’t snark back, don’t snark back. “I didn’t say it was exactly the same, it’s just similar. You - ugh, we are guests here. The least you can do is be civil and not get us attacked!”

“Ay, cállate, loser!” Paulina chided. “Maybe if you hadn’t messed us up with that invention, this wouldn’t be a problem in the first place!”

Ancients, Danny wished Sam and Tucker were here. Or even Jazz. “Or, and I’m just throwing out options here, if you hadn’t been messing with a dangerous weapon you knew nothing about, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” he shot back. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. Another deep breath later, he said, “Look. All we have to do is get somewhere safe so we can contact someone to come get us. Once we’re there, you guys can say whatever you want, alright? I won’t even try and stop you.” He felt a little childish as he continued to stomp along the path, but he was at the end of his rope. He’d been trying to guide them through the Realms on foot and without flaunting his secret, though it was much easier said than done. At this point, he couldn’t be bothered to maintain his poise.

Dale and Dash jogged to catch up with him, to which he rolled his eyes. The jerks just had to be at the front of the pack.

“What makes you think you can stop us from doing anything, Fen-toenail?” Dash jeered.

“Um, guys?” Star said nervously from behind Danny, though he didn’t really register it. He was too busy being mad and trying to keep his crown and ring from manifesting.

“I still don’t know why we’re even following you in the first place,” Dale added, apparently also not having heard Star. “How do we even know you’re going the right way? We’ve been walking for hours! Knowing you, you’re probably just leading us in circles.”

Danny scoffed. “Trust me, if I could get us out of here and me away from you any sooner, I would. What would I get from keeping you here?”

“Guys,” Star said again, this time with more force. The three boys at the front of the group did not notice her still.

“Please! I bet you think this is hilarious! Your stupid little friends are probably watching us right now laughing their butts off!”

What little remained of Danny’s patience snapped. He felt his ring fizzle into existence around his middle finger and frost begin to circle his head. Turning on the two football players with his finger pointed at them, he growled, “You wanna know something? I-”

“Danny!” Star screeched as his foot suddenly landed on thin air. Gracelessly, he flailed his arms, trying to regain his footing, but it was too late. He fell off the path and tumbled into the green void. The other A-listers immediately began screaming in horror in harmony with Star.

Even as he fell, Danny managed to roll his eyes. Overdramatic jerks, he thought ruefully, though he was surprisingly pleased to hear Dash’s high-pitched shriek emerge out of the cacophony.

Then he remembered he was falling and, to these humans, that wasn’t a good thing. Instinctively, he tapped into his core, but in a panic not to use his flight in front of the A-listers and being hyper-aware of the ring and crown that had decided to make themselves known, he unintentionally drew upon his connection with the Realms. His core sang out, and the Realms immediately echoed in kind. 

He couldn’t help but relax into their fold as they shifted the ambient ectoplasm around him, forming a virtually invisible cushion for him to land in. For a blissful moment, he forgot all about the screaming A-listers still on the path above him and his annoyance towards them. He allowed himself to lose his awareness to the Realms, which were flooding him with the feeling of security. They were all too pleased to show their affection for their Prince, and he was more than happy to return the favor.

Then a particularly forceful cry from Ashley shattered the tranquility.

“What did you do to yourself?” she shouted.  She and the others were bent over the edge of the path, staring down at him. He hadn’t fallen far - only about 20 yards or so.

“And what the heck is that on your head?” Kwan demanded.

Danny winced. A glance at his hand confirmed it - his regalia was on full display. He didn’t need to check for the crown; he could feel its chill wrapped around his head.

Except there was another problem. In his panic, he’d forgotten that with the regalia of the Ghost King (or Prince, in his case) came the display of the bearer’s death scar. Clockwork had tried to explain it as a symbol of the King’s strength, endurance, and transparency, but Danny still didn’t understand it completely. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that tradition was tradition, and thus his death scar was in full view. For Pariah Dark, it had been the scar over his one good eye.

Unfortunately for Danny, his lightning scar stood out a lot more than Pariah’s.

He smiled shyly as he looked back up at the gaping A-listers. “This prove I know what I’m doing?” he joked, though he sounded unsure of himself.

Paulina promptly fainted.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2023 #dannymay 2023 #ghost king au #ghost king danny #danny is done with everything #and ghost king danny is literally my fave AU hands down

[thetavolution]

TESSA CHASTAIN | Human | Rogue-Monk | She/Her | 35

What is your Tav’s…

Favorite Weapon: Sword of Screams

Style of Combat: She's pretty hands on in a fight. If she's not slicing and dicing, she's punching and kicking. She's a rogue-monk so she gets her hands dirty in every fight.

Most Prized Possession: At the beginning of the whole adventure, it's a necklace her father gave her. By the end of it, it's an engagement ring from Gale.

Deepest Desire: She'd love to settle down and have a normal life, even just for a little while. She's never been "normal," but she'd like to try.

Guilty Pleasure: She loves reading terrible romance novels and erotica.

Best-Kept Secret: She was born into the Zhentarim because of her father. Her family is from Icewind Dale so even a lot of the local Zhentarim members don't know her. It's likely they'd recognize her father's name if she brought it up though.

Greatest Strength: She's loyal. She's the mom friend so she's always comforting to be around.

Fatal Flaw: She's impulsive and leaps before she looks.

Favorite Smell: Roses.

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: She doesn't really cast spells often, but she does like using Ice Knife. When it comes to her allies, she loves it when they use Wall of Fire. It's wonderfully effective when used right.

Pet Peeve: Being late.

Bad Habit: She steals stuff all of the time. Her impulsiveness is also a bad habit. She stays up late and, when she was much younger, she was a party animal.

Hidden Talent: She's a talented writer. She's written short stories and novels, but she does nothing with them. They just sit, unread by anyone else. Gale will be the first person to know they even exist.

Leisure Activity: Writing.

Favorite Drink: Brandy

Comfort Food: Sun-Dappled Paella and Cranberry Cake

Favorite Person: Gale, Shadowheart, and Halsin

Favored Display of Affection (platonic and/or romantic): She likes to tell people how much they mean to her. Word of affirmation are big for her. With certain people, she likes to roughhouse. (She grew up with 5 brothers.) She's big on cuddling and kisses, too.

Fondest Childhood Memory: Most of her fond memories are the times her family were all together, but a few specific moments stick out. When she was around seven or eight, her father brought home a puppy for her and her brothers. Tessa was the one that doted on that dog though.

BEX MCQUOID | Mephistopheles Tiefling | Bard (College of Swords) | She/Her | 36

What is your Tav’s…

Favorite Weapon: Rapier

Style of Combat: Talking is her favored battle technique, be it Vicious Mockery or Dissonant Whispers. In melee, she likes to stick to her rapier. She's known for having some flair while sword fighting.

Most Prized Possession: Her violin. It was gifted to her by her teacher, the only person she felt cared about her during her childhood.

Deepest Desire: She wants to find where she belongs. She wants to finally let down her walls and care about someone deeply. She wants to be cared for in return and feel safe.

Guilty Pleasure: There is no guilt, only pleasure. Bex doesn't like to think of anything as a "guilty pleasure." Life is too short for that.

Best-Kept Secret: Unfortunately, I can't say! It mirrors her past in @thebonnevillegame too much. (Think of BG3 Bex as a multiverse version of The Bonneville Game's Bex.)

Greatest Strength: She's unflappable and steadfast. She can keep calm in a fight or stressful situation.

Fatal Flaw: She doesn't take situations seriously enough. She's also so used to taking care of herself that she's not great at being emotionally available for other people.

Favorite Smell: Oranges and the smell of fresh brownies

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: Dissonant Whispers

Pet Peeve: Being interrupted, leaving cabinets/drawers open, and egomaniacs.

Bad Habit: She's something of a packrat. She'll hold onto things just in case she needs it, or because she thinks having it adds comedic value to her life. She also relies far too heavily on alcohol when sad or anxious.

Hidden Talent: Although she's a bard, she's a talented cook. It's something she'll do to help pay the bills from time to time.

Leisure Activity: Cooking/baking and learning new recipes. She also likes to keep in shape.

Favorite Drink: Coffee or Mermaid's Whiskey

Comfort Food: Homemade Bread

Favorite Person: Astarion and Karlach

Favored Display of Affection (platonic and/or romantic): She loves hugs even if she won't say it. She's big on terms of endearment. Any kind of physical contact is welcome, including something as simple as a touch of a hand. Sometimes she'll gently "punch" people in the arm.

Fondest Childhood Memory: Training under her teacher, Valus. She was neglected as a child and Valus was the first adult in her life to look after her. Her fondest memories are spending time with him.

Thank you for tagging me @tavsboots!

I don't have anyone to tag. If you want to do it, please go right ahead!

#baldur's gate 3 #tav oc #tav bg3 #tav ask game #tav x astarion #tav x gale #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #bg3 #Tessa #Tav: Tessa #Tav: Bex #Bex

[countrymusiclover]

12 - We're so Grounded

(Gif by @nataliealynlind )

Part 13

Texas Romance

Tags - @tyrionsprincess30 @bvbwestfall

"Georgie we have to tell them before I'm swelled up like a balloon and we can't hide it!" I whined sitting down on the edge of Georgie's bed since he had moved out of the house and into his parents garage. Georgie leans against the closed door arms crossed over his chest staring down at me. I knew he wanted to just not tell them because we would get in trouble and just go live in the woods and forget out troubles. It's a fun dream but this baby is our reality now. "Dale keeps telling me to tell them I don't need you doin' it too." Flopping on my back I throw my arms over my face grumbling. "Georgie...we can't keep this a secret forever."

He strides over plopping down on the bed making me lift up on my elbows watching him. He dropped his head in his hands running his fingers through his hair sighing. "So you're parents or mine. Do you want me with ya?" His brown eyes locked on mine weakly smiling. Getting to my feet I run my hands over my jeans, pulling a jacket on and zipping it closed offering my hands to his pulling him up. Parking in the driveway of my house I unbuckle my seatbelt taking a few breaths then heading for the door ringing the doorbell. The door opened by my mother who gave a warm smile to the two of us. "Y/n, Georgie, come in and sit. I just made some cookies." Georgie closed the door as I take a seat on the couch playing with my hands.

“Thanks mom...is dad here?" She sits the cookies on the table in front of us with Georgie sitting beside me. She nodded going out the backdoor knowing he's outside working on something in the barn. A few seconds later they both came in standing where I nervously eyed them hoping they won't freak out. "So there's something I need to tell you and please don't be mad but I'm...I'm pregnant." My mother's mouth dropped opened in shock while my father ran into the back room coaking a shotgun where Georgie stiffened his back. "Who is this son of a bitch!" I blurted out not really meaning too where I throw my hands over my mouth afterwards. "Dad please don't shoot, Georgie." My father slowly lowered his weapon blinking before he raised his voice towards Georgie. "Get the hell out of my house. I once said you couldn't date my daughter if you kept that van and now you've gotten her pregnant you idiot!"

My mother just sits still as Georgie pressed his body into the couch looking at me terrified. I feel tears welling in my eyes because this is the very possibility that I was afraid of. "Dad, look I love him and I'm sorry but he says he'll be there-" I try explaining but he throws his hands up scoffing. "Yeah right. Seriously if he's not out of here in five seconds-" My mother gets to her feet grabbing his arm holding him for a second then bending down to me with a weak smile. "Sweetheart, I'm not happy about this but you are still my child so I won't kick you to the curb....I just can't believe we're gonna be grandparents." She started crying where I jumped to my feet hugging her lightly crying in relief. "Cooper, I want to talk with your foks about this understand." My father declared pulling me into a hug seeing Georgie nervously shake his head yes.

After a few hours of talking with my parents we got back in the car but I grabbed the keys from Georgie's hand so we couldn't go anywhere. He turns his head staring at me. "What's goin' on, darlin'?" Sucking in a breath I simply explained knowing that we need to just rip the bandage off on both ends. "We have to tell your parents or when my parents want to talk about the baby it'll be extremely akward." He rests his hands on the steering wheel throwing his head back in annoyance. Finally looking at me he nodded in agreement starting the truck driving home. Georgie went back to the garage waiting for me while I entered through the back door seeing his father is home. He's drinking a beer in the kitchen seeing me. "Hi Y/n, what have you been up to?" Twisting the fabric of my jacket I glanced to the floor mumbling. "Georgie and I need to talk to you about something, George - uh Mr. Cooper." He nodded following me into the garage eyeing his son. "What's going on?" Georgie and I glanced to each other where I reached down intertwining our hands when Georgie replied simply. "It's kinda hard to talk about...we...I...I got a girl pregnant."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#texas romance #georgie cooper x reader #georgie cooper #montana jordan #george cooper #mary cooper #missy cooper #sheldon cooper #meemaw #young sheldon memaw #young sheldon #the big bang theory #teenage romance #high school best friend #wattpad fanfiction #comments really appreciated

[bumblerhizal-art]

Party Camp Conversation

Companion Novhen Tabris

Can you tell me about the shadows? and Can you teach others to be a shadow?

Masterpost

Can you tell me about the shadows?

Double arrows indicate a dialogue option appears in this branch after the previous single arrow option was selected.

"You talk like there's a formal order. Rest assured, we aren't nearly so organized. Can you imagine? No, as a group, we're all too opposed to authority to manage anything like that. And there's not a single shadow tradition either. I can only tell you about the one I was taught: the Vir Banal'ras."

→ Who taught you?

"My ma. She had been drilling me on stances and stalking since I was old enough to walk. I didn't begin the actual weapons training til I was maybe ten, but the knifeplay and archery have always been very secondary to the stealth anyway. My ma was then taught by her own ma. It's a chain that apparently goes all the way back to the very first Tabris back when elves still held the Dales. My nonna would even tell you that first Tabris was taught the art by Fen'Harel himself."

→→ (IF Dalish) Your family has ties to Fen'Harel?

"It's just an old family legend. I wouldn't put too much stock in it."

→→ (IF NOT Dalish or City Elf) Isn't Fen'Harel an elven god?

(IF Dwarf) "Don't let the shems find out, yeah? They don't take too well to us having our own gods."

(ELSE) "Don't worry, I'm still a good little Andrastian. I even remember to say my bedtime prayers now and then." (tongue in cheek)

→→ (IF City Elf) You don't actually still believe in Fen'Harel, do you?

"I do, actually." (icy) (-4 Approval)

→→ Will you pass it down to your own children?

"Of course. I owe them as much. More than that, I owe it to every shadow in my family who came before me."

→How does a shadow fight?

→→ (IF Have spoken with Zevran about assassins) That sounds similar to being an assassin.

"Preferably, we avoid the fight altogether, but that's not often an option for us now, is it? (Sigh) In a fight, I strike from the shadows. Hence the name. In and out without being seen. Sometimes, I'll toss in a smoke bomb into the mix, but those are usually unnecessary. Personally, I prefer to use a bow for the extra distance, but I'm also trained to dual wield daggers if need be." 

"I wouldn't be surprised. The main difference between us would be our desired outcomes. Assassins are primarily killers. Shadows are primarily thieves, spies, and smugglers." (said with a shrug)

→ Are there many shadows?

You'll find them in just about every port city in Thedas, or they'll find you at least. Just keep a good grip on your belongings, and you won't have to worry yourself too much about us.

→ (IF Dalish) The Dalish also have a Vir Banal'ras.

"I've heard. The Dalish Vir Banal'ras sounds mostly like an ultimately temporary oath of vengeance. You know, sometimes, I wonder if the Tabris Vir Banal'ras started as a Dalish oath that got passed down for so long the meaning changed, but to us now, it's about more than just revenge. Don't get me wrong. That is definitely still an element, but it's our entire fighting style and philosophy as well. It's become an important part of our family culture and history." (excited to discuss history, almost rambling)

→ I'd like to talk about something else.

"Let's hear it."

(Exit Branch)

Can you teach others to be a shadow?

(Appears after Can you tell me about the shadows?)

→ (IF First Time Asking AND City Elf)

"Oh? Finally up to learning the Vir Banal'ras?"

→ (IF Low Approval AND City Elf)

"I suppose it is my duty to teach you now. Look, if you can prove to me that you can handle the extra responsibility, we'll make time for it, but otherwise, you should focus on the Blight."

→ (IF Low Approval AND NOT City Elf)

"Sorry, Warden. I need to respect my family's secrets. I can't just give them out to anybody. Maybe if you prove your character, I'll change my mind, but until then, there's not much I can say."

→ (IF High Approval AND Rogue)

"Alright, I'll teach you, but I'm warning you now, it's going to be much more philosophy-heavy than you're probably anticipating. We elves do love to spiel. Come on. Let's go find ourselves a dark corner."

(Unlock Shadow Specialization)

→ (IF High Approval AND NOT Rogue)

"Unfortunately, you lack the right foundational skills for me to teach you on any sort of reasonable timeline."

(IF Mage) "Your current blast-and-burn shtick seems to be working well enough for you at the moment anyway, but I can compromise."

(IF Warrior) "Your current maim-and-maul shtick seems to be working well enough for you at the moment anyway, but I can compromise."

"If you have anyone you want to learn that's a bit more subtle in a fight, have them talk to me, and I'll work it out with them."

(Unlock Shadow Specialization)

(End Converation)

#dragon age #novhen tabris #companion novhen #writing #not 100% sure how i want to format these #especially once the conversations start getting more complicated #but this is a good for-now solution

[luna-says-stuff]

50 Durin House Rules And Other Declarations:

(everybody lives AU, cuz they deserve it)

1. Running off into the wild to pet a wild wolf is not an acceptable hobby.

2. Bringing said wolf home and giving it a name is also not an acceptable hobby.

3. Under no circumstances is Kili allowed to babysit.

4. It is necessary to lock the door at night. Princes might escape otherwise.

5. Hiding a wolf in your room is also not an acceptable hobby.

6. Weapons are not to be seen on the dinner table.

7. The breakfast table is the same table as the dinner table.

8. Feeding dwarflings ale until they pass out is no longer allowed.

9. Thorin is not allowed to be alone in the treasure room.

10. Gross medical issues are to be discussed with Oin. Not with family at the dinner table.

11. If gross medical issues are inevitable during dinner, Kili is to be removed immediately to prevent inappropriate jokes.

12. Important secrets are not to be trusted to Fili.

13. “Fuck The Elves” is not an acceptable slogan for a themed party.

14. Even if, you do in fact, mean to fuck the elves.

15. “Fuck The Elves” is also not an acceptable slogan for a t-shirt.

16. “Fuck The Elves” t-shirts are not allowed to be sold.

17. “Fuck The Elves” t-shirts are not to be worn during important meetings with the Mirkwood elves.

18. No walking around the house without any clothes.

19. For every swear word spoken, a gold coin must be tossed in the “no swearing jar”.

20. “Tree-shaggers” is considered a swear word.

21. Wild wolves are also not allowed in Dale. Even if you dressed them up and taught them how to walk on their hind legs.

22. Fili and Kili are not allowed in the throne room without supervision.

23. If Dis says no, don’t run to Thorin and ask the same question.

24. You know Thorin doesn’t do well when arguing with women, so don’t manipulate him into it.

25. Dressing in black and standing in front of the mountain yelling “Winter Is Coming”, is not a fun way to announce snow.

26. Calling Bilbo a “Robbit” is not funny.

27. Parties are no longer allowed to be held without the permission of Thorin.

28. Using the “I am the future king” card will not work against the “I am the current king” card. Not even when you threaten him with old age.

29. Imitating Thorin when he had Dragon-Sickness is considered treason and is punished with running three laps around the mountain.

30. This also counts for royal family.

31. Knocking on Kili’s door at three AM is not funny. You know it scares him.

32. Under no circumstances are Fili and Kili allowed to see the Gremlin movies.

33. Stop referring to Balin as “Santa” around Christmas time.

34. Don’t YOLO anything.

35. Gandalf is not allowed to be alone with Kili.

36. Thorin is not allowed to get his entire head tattooed like Dwalin.

37. Don’t use expensive words to Fili and Kili. They genuinely do not understand it.

38. You can only use five sarcastic comments in a conversation with Dis.

39. We did this for your own safety.

40. Do not play hide and seek in the treasure room.

41. Dwalin is not your personal bodyguard, so don’t force him to come with you every time you visit Dale.

42. Bringing a mountain lion home as an alternative for the wild wolf is definitely NOT considered an acceptable hobby.

43. Fili is not allowed to cook anything. Ever.

44. Threatening to cut your brother’s hair off when you’re losing a game is not considered a “practical joke”.

45. This also counts for Dis.

46. Saying your wild wolf is not a normal wolf but a Direwolf is not a good excuse.

47. Dressing up in bright pink dresses during dinner is not considered a proper dresscode.

48. Especially the ones that are way too small. We can see everything down there.

49. If Fili asks you to kill a spider, no matter the size, kill it, because if you will not, he can, and will, burn down the mountain.

50. Wolves are not allowed within a five mile radius of the mountain.

#incorrect quotes #tolkien #incorrect hobbit quotes #the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #Thorin #the company of thorin oakenshield #Fili and Kili #Fili #Kili #dis #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #lord of the rings incorrect quotes #lord of The rings #incorrect lord of the rings quotes

[maswartz]

Collection of my Weird Dreams

1. I had a weird dream last night. I was reading a (very very nicely drawn) King of the Hill comic where Dale got bit by a vampire. Soon Lauane was too and either turned or killed Peggy. I don’t remember seeing Bobby. But I know it ended with Dale biting and turning Hank as fangs emerged from Hank’s teeth. The weirdest part was it was on tumblr and I could see all the details of the blog it was on. 2. I don’t know why but for some reason lately I’ve been having dreams about a TV show that was basically a live action Superfriends. It stared Sinestro (in a heroic role and a really weird costume) and a cast of DC heroes. It aired in the gap after Smallville ended but before the Arrowverse began. I even remember the title “Sinestro and the Corps of Justice” The really weird thing is that in the dream I just had last night the description for one of the episodes (which I just realized I shouldn’t have been able to read in a dream) mentioned Squirrel Girl and I saw Deadpool in it. I still remember the intro from last nights dream too. It started with animated versions of the heroes floating in space rising up as they turned into the live action versions. 3. I had a strange dream last night, it was a zombie apocalypse but it was in the Monsters Inc. universe and the monsters were using the closets to save the children. 4. I had a weird dream last night. Basically it took place in one of those idealistic 50-esque towns but everyone had a dark secret. It begins and ends with the town’s greatest actor dying in the center of town. Eventually it’s revealed he hid evidence that would have cleared the main character’s brother of a crime. As he died he confesses. This is where it gets weird. There’s also some deep rivalry/conspiracy between people who wear dog shirts and people who wear cat shirts. Oh and did I mention that everyone was either a barbie doll or a ken/GI Joe doll? Basically by the end the town is torn apart by all the secrets. 5. I had a weird dream last night, basically it was one of those festivals you see in RPGs celebrating the defeat of some ancient evil, only it was like a modern carnival with tacky stands and food and rides and stuff. And in the middle of the carnival the evil guy was inside a room with glass windows so people could look at him inside the seal. And at one point he’s going on the usual “if i were free I’d turn this mockery into a crater” until a staff member just hands him cotton candy. 6. I just had a weird dream It was like a combo of Earth D and the DCAU/batman beyond. Here’s what I remember Robin was an indian version of Tim Drake and his daughter was a new heroine and he had a job making historical holograms Supergirl was asian or something and her son had a crush on the daughter of Robin Aquaman was older and a bit chubby but still kicked ass when an atlantian tried to attack the surface world he led the army against them Aquagirl was the same as Batman Beyond Terry apparently was a brat before but through time travel or something had gone through what we saw in BB and become a better hero for it and for some reason had a sword and was in a semi relationship with Aquagirl. The joker was still alive and somehow got all the heroes to surrender there was a subplot about a spikey nut thing one of the batmen (bruce was still batman too) kept dropping and a villain telling another villain not to let a monster dog eat them During the climax Terry drops a gas pellet, bruce throws a flash bang and terry uses one of the nut things to set it off near Superman recharging him and that’s where it ended. 7. Every time I hear this song I can’t help but think back to a dream I had once. There was a massive giant who walked across the world until they noticed small creatures suffering. They taught the creatures how to farm, how to build, how to craft weapons to ward off predators and so on. One day there was a terrible disaster (right as the song reaches the zenith) and the giant protects the small village with their body dying in the process and their body becomes a tall mountain that watches over the village for all time. 8. I had a weird dream once where it was a horror movie that took place in a mansion, it was haunted by a banshee but the banshee was summoned by a teenage girl to save her from other teens at a party gone wrong. Basically it ended with the girl becoming the new banshee. 9. I don’t know what reminded me of this but a few years ago I had a dream about a kid about 5-10ish who carried around a stuffed bear dressed like a knight. One night the kid and his mom are attacked by a mugger and the bear begins to glow and grow until it’s about 6-7 feet tall and it attacks the mugger. It turns out the kid has the power to bring the bear to life to create KnightBear! That’s pretty much all I remembered 10. I just had a dream where I was watching an LP/playing one of those “found journal” games. I mean I remember seeing the progress bar at the bottom, I even skipped ahead a few times.

The journal belonged to a boy at one of those troubled boy places decades ago.

It kept talking about some imaginary friend thing trying to pressure him into horrible choices.

Then it got weird when the journal revealed a nerf gun you had to use to spell the name of the “friend” and a creature appeared and had the player use various objects to play pranks on other boys and the staff.

However the pranks get more and more violent as the creature gets more and more demented looking. Then the journal reveals why the boy/you were in this place, with a bloodstained page and a photo. 11. I just had a weird dream it started with a newspaper comic crossover that somehow involved Yogi Bear and turned into a zombie outbreak. Then for some reason four old comedians including Bill Muray were tasked with stopping it but they failed however it turned out to be a groundhogs day loop. I know at one point Murray is talking about the last loops failure and it involved a showdown on a bridge where they all died and zombiefied and destroyed the bridge. That's when I woke up 12. Last night’s dream was about a group that was pretty much the Voltron Force/Power Rangers. It began with something about time travel where it was revealed things hit the fan bad! Some evil parasite that for some reason looked like the leg of a horse or a moose had taken over all but one of the team. The lone survivor managed to free two of the others so it was the leader, the comic relief and the brooding one against the second in command and the gadget genius. During the battle the gadget genius revealed they had rebuilt a ton of previous versions of the mecha only for the comic relief to remind him that he helped build them all so he took them all down. The parasite was having them use their space station to super heat the earth so they could thrive on the planet and after all five were free they formed the mecha and were forced to destroy the station but for some reason the mecha began to tear itself apart. Only the leader survived and used some gadget to go back in time and stop it all from happening but one of the last surviving parasites infected him and his past self had to kill him… 13. It’s 4 am and I just had a weird dream about a body horror game. The premise is a couple (randomly generated each play through so one play through is MF another MM and so on) are in an accident and found by a mad doctor who attaches them at the pelvis (Barbie/ken anatomy, the whole thing is played for horror) and the couple must adapt to this in order to escape.   It’d control like a two player QWOP.   I just had to get this idea out 14. I had a weird ninja anime dream last night. Basically it was one of those realistic anime styles. The main character was a female ninja who trained to be the best of the best for the usual reasons (fighting evil) but the twist was when she actually got to the battle this super deformed ninja guy was wiping the floor with them. He pledges himself as her pupil. The SD Ninja would be one of those “how scary a comedy character would be if their abilities were taken seriously” situations but he’d still act like he was in a comedy anime. At some point the female ninja’s friend is revealed to be a centipede themed monster. Oh and the female ninja managed to convince one of the monsters that hurting people was wrong and they started to teach that to other monsters. But they had to keep up appearances in front of the boss so they’d threaten people only to let them go when the boss wasn’t looking. 14. I had a weird dream last night.It was about a cartoon superhero, a boy whose powers had something to do with animals. He was fighting a supervillain who was the big bad and had a medallion that allowed him to steal the power of animals. The villain realized that people count as animals and tried to steal the boys powers but ended up draining a side character to death. The opening was then changed to include a bit with their face included among the various beings the villain stole the power of. The finale then had the villain somehow puppet the rest of the side characters to prevent the boy from attacking. Seeing the boy risk his life gave them the courage to fight the control and create an opening for the boy to strike. 15 A. I had a double whammy of weird dreams last night.The first was about Ducktales and I remember the most about it. It started off with the main cast in an amusement park playing a life sized board game thingy (Duckworth won right before someone else could) But during it they’re confronted by animatronics of themselves that FOWL had turned evil. The stinger revealed that the Louie one was turned good but thought it was the real Louie. Then it cut to Louie, Fenton, Della, and somehow the HDL father in a cave trying to escape. Part of it had caved in causing Fenton and Louie’s eyes to glow green revealing Fenton was a robot too. He had one hand as a chainsaw to clear the rocks and offered to help unlock some of Louie’s programming to help escape. But Louie was scared so he pushed him...right into Della. It cut away to the father and Louie screaming. 15 B. The next dream was RWBY with elements of Miraculous Ladybug. This one was all kinds of jumbled up. It involved Ruby dressed as Tinkerbell going mad with jealousy until an Akuma/Grimm Yang broke in the room? Then it cut to Ruby being freed from the same state? Then it cut back to Ruby actually being possessed? 17. I just woke up from another weird dream It was basically Teen Titans/Young Justice + A bad B Movie The lineup was Robin/Red Robin/Red Bird? Starfire Cyborg Superboy And Mammoth of the Fearsome Five joined the team As it went on however Robin went way off the deep end and even attacked his teammates. Starfire revealed that he’d been working solo more in secret and doesn’t even talk to the cops about the other members. Meanwhile there was a subplot about two hazardous material disposal workers who had a drum of material get stolen/fall off the truck. It ended up in a pond behind someone’s house. Superboy talked to a teenage boy genius who was either Blockbuster or some Hulk rip off who had a notebook with a bunch of notes until it was just “Blockbuster” over and over. As Superboy was confronting him two women (I think they were Titans) for some reason were in the pond and got a face full of chemicals and began throwing up. That’s when the hazardous material guys showed up and helped them not die. Then I woke up. 18. I had a freaking weird dream last night I was trapped in an anti-sexual assault PSA video. Like literally inside it. It was in universe in the MCU and Natasha was there but every time someone touched her it tore away to reveal a scared little girl inside her. Then I was running down a hallway and I could literally see the cast and crew filming the PSA, like I could see a guy in the ceiling working on lights. And the hallway kept repeating until I jumped up and grabbed the guy’s arm. That’s when I woke up and went back to bed. I legit have NO idea what spawned this. 19. It started with a skeleton villain voiced by Mark Hamill (so either Skeleton King or Skeletor) marching down the street ranting about the positive values of revenge. Going to confront him was the girl from Two Stupid Dogs (aged up to like middle school age) walking the skinny dog. The dog got scared and refused to go any further. (Apparently the dog had somehow wronged the villain) The girl was about to give up hope when a high school version of Bayonetta showed up next to her and put a stencil on the fence next to her. It was of magic words arranged in a magic shape. As she penciled it on another girl, a high school version of Zatanna helped activate it forming a seal to protect the girl and dog. That’s when I woke up. 20. I had a weird ass body horror nightmare last night. It started as a Doctor Who/Ben 10 crossover thingy with the “plot” being a musical as everyone got ready for Gwen’s wedding. Then it took a turn as along the side of the “screen” cartoony veins went up and these worm like things popped out of them and started singing. Then the person’s hand pulled on one and I could FEEL them all moving inside. Then it cut to a person searching TVTropes for more info on it and it was like the first step of some horrific transformation into a parasite monster. I full on woke up after that. 21. I just had a really bonkers dream Already forgetting small details It was some kind of movie trailer, the star was done woman in her 20s who reminds me of Frankie Foster. She was visiting some weird store with a Seussisn/willy wonka vibe to it there was some kind of secret passage hidden via a special combo on a vending machine that had some Suessian monster guy inside near the machine was a taxidermied elephant man (actual humanoid elephant) nothing graphic but their skin was red and leathery and was apparently the dad of the guy in the vending machine the skin of the elephant guy was apparently a clue in some big treasure hunt too it ended with the woman leaving to go home and the monster guy saying something like “everyone needs a vacation or you’ll work yourself to death like my old man” pointing out the elephant guy at that point she asks if he was dead when they taxidermied him and the monster just shrugged and I think it was implied he wasn’t even dead but was totally fine and that’s honestly all I remember

#weird dreams

[middleearthpixie]

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Seren and the Company are imprisoned in Mirkwood, and Bofur spills Seren’s secret to the others. Barrel riding, orc fighting, and a bowman named Bard

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: The Company, Gandalf, Woodland Elves, a number of orcs, Bard the Bowman

Rating: T

Warnings: Battle violence, countless orcs killed, some river jeopardy

Word Count: 3,034

Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

@tschrist1 Happy Monday!

Seren fought down her rising panic when she came to and could see nothing but white gauze and could hear nothing but hissing and clicking. The spiders communicating with one another, most likely. She tried to move, tried to reach one of her knives or her sword, but it was impossible. Her arms and legs were bound too tightly. Her heart raced, black dots speckled the white webbing over her face.

“Calm,” she whispered. “Must be calm, Ser. Panic will do no good.”

Something silver flashed before her and a moment later, a sword blade sliced through the webbing. She was never so happy to see a hobbit as she was to see Bilbo then as he slit her cocoon from top to bottom and held out a hand to help her from it.

“Thank you, Master Baggins!” She slid her sword free and spun about as the spiders realized their meals were escaping. She found the others, freed whoever needed it, including Thorin, who looked more than a little dazed as she cut him loose.

Spiderwebbing clung to his hair as he jerked the Orcrist clean and with an elegant swoosh, cut a spider’s legs out from under its hairy body. Steel sang. Arrows sliced the air. Seren didn’t hesitate to go on the offensive even though she was absolutely terrified of small spiders, never mind these monstrosities.

Movement overhead caught her eye and she spun about, dropping to her knees to thrust her sword into a soft underbelly, biting back a gag as the arachnid’s innards almost splashed her.

Kili let out a shout and she spun about to see him surrounded by hissing, furious giant spiders. She ran toward him, as did Thorin, Fili, and Dwalin, only to have a tall, elegant he-elf drop in front of them, bow drawn. “Do it, dwarf,” he growled at Thorin, who held his sword as if to attack. “Do not think I will not kill you. It would be my pleasure.”

Kili hollered again and overhead, a she-elf dressed in green vaulted from branch to branch before drawing her bow and arrow and slaying the spider bearing down upon him.

Seren stood beside Thorin, staring at the arrow aimed between his eyes. Then, the he-elf lowered his weapon, stowed both and reached out to take the Orcrist from him. “Where did you get this?”

Thorin held his stare easily. “It was given to me”

“This is elven made.” The elf slid it through the air, then held the point against Thorin’s throat. “A liar and a thief. I’m not surprised.” He stepped back, looked at the other elves surrounding them, and said something in Sindarin.

Seren understood a few of his words and whispered, “They are taking us to the dungeons. You are being brought before Thranduíl.”

“You will be fine,” Thorin replied as two he elves came up behind him and each took hold of one of his arms to pull him away from the others.

Seren glared at the he elf who lifted her sword. And her knives. “I’ll expect those returned to me,” she said in broken Sindarin.

He gave her a condescending smile. “You will be disappointed, lad.”

She glared at him and then, offered up the sweetest smile she could manage and replied, “Tel’athim.”

His pale cheeks flushed as a soft laughter rippled along his fellow elves, while the dwarves didn’t trouble to hold back their shouts of laughter. Dwalin elbowed her. “You tell him laddie.”

The he-elf grabbed her roughly, bending her arm up behind her back to send fiery pain streaking through it as he marched her and the others back toward Thranduíl’s palace and down to the dank, chilled dungeon.

The dungeon was comprised of countless cells, each only large enough to hold two at most, all along narrow walkways that twisted and curved all around, with sheer drop-offs on either side. She didn’t know where the elves had taken Thorin, and she could only hope he wasn’t being mistreated.

She was shown to a cell with Dwalin and no sooner did the iron-barred door shut, then he flung himself into it over and over again in the hopes of breaking it down. All he accomplished was amusing the elven guards and tiring himself out.

“Enough. This is an elven prison,” Balin called from his cell several doors down, “not some shoddy orc dungeon.”

Seren sank onto one of the stone beds carved from the wall. Every muscle in her body ached from her battle with the spiders, and from being bound, as she had no idea how long they’d all be wrapped up for. “Where do you suppose they’ve taken Thorin?”

Dwalin sank beside her, hands clasped between his knees. “To see Thranduíl.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“That remains to be seen.” This came from Balin, who sounded tired. “There was a bit of… bad blood between the dwarves of Erebor and the Elvenking. But, perhaps he will offer Thorin a deal.”

“But will he take it?” she asked.

“That,” Balin sighed, “remains to be seen.”

Dwalin leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “What did you say to that he-elf that made him turn so red?”

She chuckled. “I called him an arrogant prick. Most woodland elves are, you know.”

Dwalin snort-laughed. “How do you say that again?”

“Tel’athim.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

She smiled. “I have other insults as well. I spent a fun night at a pub with a group of Woodland elves. They are lightweight drinkers and very loose-lipped when drunk.”

Dwalin arched an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Really. Two tankards of ale and they were on the floor. I lightened their purses and left them with wicked hangovers.”

“Balin!” Dwalin called through the door. “We need to remember that, next time we come across any elves.”

“Why do I think that will never happen?” came Balin’s dry response.

Seren smiled. “It was a fun night.”

“It sounds like one.” Dwalin looked over at her. “You’re from Dale, originally?”

She nodded. “I was, yes. Now, I’m from nowhere and everywhere.”

He leaned over. “Take care, lassie. Your voice gives you away.”

“What?”

“Your voice,” he gestured to her throat, “it gives you away. Does Thorin know?”

She glared at him. Her voice was naturally low-pitched and until now, she thought it passed for that of a young man. Apparently not as much as she assumed, however. “It seems you all know.”

He held up a hand. “I’ll not say a word.”

“I’m not so certain that matters at this point.” She held up a hand. “You know. Balin knows. Bofur knows. Thorin knows. Is there anyone here who doesn’t know?”

“Easy, lass,” he told her gesturing with both hands for her to lower her voice. “As long as Thorin knows. If he knows and he doesn’t mind ye being with us, I’ll not say a word.”

“Why would he mind?” Balin supplied. “She’s prettier than any of us.”

“Balin!” Seren rolled her eyes. “Are you joking?”

“What’s going on?” Kili called.

Bofur coughed. “Seren’s a girl.”

“What?” This came from Fili.

Seren glared in the general direction of Bofur’s voice. “You are a dead man, dwarf.”

“Wait,” Fili’s hand appeared through the bars of his door, “Seren? You’re a… a girl?”

She rolled her eyes. “Will you all just shut up already?”

“Hold up,” Dori called from further down the row. “Seren is what?”

“I think she’s a girl!” Fili replied.

Seren shoved up from the stone bed and marched over to the door to call, “Everyone in earshot! Yes, I am a girl! There! Are you happy?”

Dwalin chuckled as one by one, the others—with a few notable exceptions—all replied with some variation of, “But does Thorin know?”

“Yes!” She thunked her forehead against the iron bars. “He knows. He has known from the beginning. Now, can we please get back to figuring out how we get out of here?”

“Oh, that’s not happening unless Thorin accepts a deal from Thranduíl,” Balin replied sagely. “And if he doesn’t, I have no idea how long we will remain here.”

A few minutes later, footsteps drew near and they all pressed their faces to their doors as the elvenking’s guards brought Thorin back. To Seren’s relief, he looked angry, but otherwise the same, and as they shoved him into Balin’s cell, Balin said, “Did he offer you a deal?”

“He did,” Thorin’s replied, loudly enough that his deep voice carried throughout the entire dungeons. “And I told him to ish kakfê ai-‘d-dûr-rugnal!”

Seren had no idea what he’d said, but the others hooted in response. All except Balin, who said, “Well, that’s that, then. A bargain was our only hope.”

“Not exactly.”

Seren and Dwalin exchanged looks as keys rattled and Bilbo’s voice carried as a harsh whisper as the others cheered. “Quiet!” he ordered, unlocking each cell as he moved down the line. “There are still guards all around!”

The door to their cell opened and Dwalin’s hand came to rest at the small of her back. “After you, m’lady.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you aren’t all going to get weird on me, are you? Where is Bofur, because I now have to kill him.”

Bofur held up both hands. “It slipped, Seren. I’m sorry.”

She glared at him. “You promised me you’d not tell!”

“I didn’t meant to.”

“Grrr…” She shoved by him, following Thorin and Bilbo as the hobbit led them down, further into the cellars of the palace.

“Bilbo!” Bofur burst out. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be getting us out of here, not leading us deeper into the place.”

Bilbo faced them and held up both hands. “Just… trust me.” He then gestured to the rows of empty barrels. “Get in the barrels.”

Seren and twelve dwarves gaped at him. “What?” Dwalin asked.

“Get in the barrels. Please,” Bilbo rubbed his forehead, “trust me. Get in the barrels!”

Thorin glared at all of them, then growled, “Do as he says!”

Seren eyed a barrel with no little suspicion, then with a sight of resignation, climbed into one of the ones on the bottom row. Thorin climbed into the one next to hers and said, “How you do fare?”

She glared at him. “I’m just dandy, Thorin. They know.”

“What?”

“They know. Bigmouth over there—“ she pointed to Bofur, who blushed, “told them all I’m a girl. When we reach Erebor, I’m feeding him to the dragon.”

She disappeared inside her barrel as Bofur sputtered and apologized left and right. She popped out once to glare at him and repeated, “Smaug, Bofur. I mean it.”

He vanished into his barrel and to her surprise, Thorin smiled at her. That earned him a glare as she said, “I’m glad you are amused by it.”

He shook his head as he leaned a bit further out of his barrel and whispered, “I thought you meant they knew about us.”

“Us? What us? There is no us.”

“Not yet there isn’t.” He winked and then shifted just enough to brush her lips with his before popping back into his barrel, “but there will be.”

“Thorin, wait—“

Her words were drowned out by a low thunk and a high pitched creak and as the floor lowered into a ramp, the barrels all rolled down and splashed into the river.

The icy river water was like a slap in the face as the barrels all bounced along the river’s current. And the barrels weren’t the only things bouncing around. Seren had a terrible time trying to keep facing forward and each time she spun about, her stomach tossed something terrible. The barrels also didn’t necessarily stay upright, either, and more than once, she pitched headfirst into the river and came up sputtering.

Her barrel bumped up against Bofur’s and he shouted, “I am truly sorry, Seren!” over the rush of the water.

“I am not speaking to you!”

They bounced along rapids, and around a sharp bend and Seren’s heart sank as they approached a stone bridge. A horn sounded in the distance and elves swarmed all around the bridge, weapons drawn and ready to go.

She spotted the iron floodgate beneath the bridge.

The floodgate that slowly closed on them.

Thorin hit it first, with a loud thunk and an equally loud oath from him. One by one, they smacked up into each other like stoppers in a bottle. The force jerked each of them about and Seren bit back an oath of her own as Bombur’s barrel slammed into hers, the force of it making her head snap back and a sharp burn to tear up along her neck.

But that wasn’t the worst of her troubles. She could only stare as one the elves arched and toppled from the stone along the riverbank, a black arrow sticking out of his back. More black arrows flew, more elves fell victim to them.

Orcs.

And they were pinned beneath that bridge, unarmed and without escape.

The elves turned their attention to the intruders and as they did, Kili swam out of his barrel toward the west bank of the river, where he pulled himself out and ran toward the lever that would open the floodgate.

An orc took aim and fired, his arrow sinking into Kili’s right thigh. Kili let out a yelp, grabbing at his leg as he fell. An orc splashed into the water behind Fili, who snagged his battle axe and fired it at another orc approaching Kili. The blade sank into the orc’s back and Kili offered up a look of shock as he managed to get to his feet and reached the lever.

The gates opened, the current caught them, and they shot out of the small space as if fired from a cannon. Fili tried to grab hold of one of the stone bricks to get to Kili, but the current was too powerful.

But Seren managed to wriggle her way out and sloshed over to where the dwarf lay on the mossy stone. Orc arrows flew from all directions, elf arrows did the same, and she ducked as another orc swung his axe toward her.

Kili grabbed the misshapen ankle and swept the orc’s legs from under him. He axe went airborne, Seren snagged it, and came down swinging. She narrowly missed Kili’s hand as she buried the blade in the orc’s chest.

“Take care, Seren! I need that!”

“Your hand was in no danger.” She thrust the axe at him. “Here, you run interference while I get us out of here.”

He managed to get to his feet, and she grimaced as he leaned heavily on her. He wasn’t much taller than she, but had far more bulk to his body. She half-walked, half- dragged him around to the far side of the bridge and shoved him into an empty barrel as it floated by.

“Seren!” Bofur hollered over the rush. “Behind you!”

She ducked and leaped at the same time, missing the barrel by inches. The current tried its best to drown her, bouncing her along the rocky bottom, sweeping her around this bend and that, letting her come up for air, only to drag her back down once more.

A red haze fell before her eyes as she fought to get to any barrel. Her arms and legs were just so tired from fighting the swift current. Her lungs screamed for air, her hands grasped at nothing, and slowly, she realized with chilled horror, she was losing the fight.

“Got you!”

A hand snagged the back of her tunic and jerked her upright. Dwalin held tight, kept her against his barrel, even as an orc leaped onto it. Without letting go of her, he slammed his forehead into the orc, knocking him cold. As the orc fell, Dwalin grabbed his weapon with his free hand, swung about, and hurtled it behind him, to Dori.

Elves leaped from barrel to barrel, but their attention remained focused on the orcs instead of the dwarves and finally, the barrels surged beyond the range of both and out of the battle zone. Seren had a death grip on the barrel’s lip, her fingers numb and bleeding, but she refused to let go of it, no matter how tightly Dwalin held her.

Finally, the current spit them out and they hit a lazy bend of the wide river and one by one, began washing up on the shore. As her feet touched the bottom, Seren slid from the barrel and splashed back into the water, her legs refusing to hold her.

Dwalin rolled from his barrel and caught her about the waist to help her up onto the sandy banks, where she collapsed facedown and just struggled to breathe and prayed for her head to clear.

He dropped to his knees beside her. “You’re all right, lassie. We made it.”

She nodded, her eyes closing. Her entire body ached and she’d never felt such burning exhaustion. Truth be told, she didn’t give a damn if she ever moved again.

“Seren?” A gentle hand came down against her back. Thorin.

She managed to roll onto her back, her heart still slamming into her ribs loud enough for everyone to hear. “Is Kili all right?”

“I don’t know.” He crouched beside her. “We need to move, though.”

“Just go. I’ll catch up eventually.”

He scowled. “Enough of that. That orc pack will descend upon us quickly enough and we need to move.”

“Thorin,” Bofur called. “Kili’s wounded.”

“Bind him up and let’s move.” Thorin held a hand out to her. “And that means you, too.”

She clasped his hand and rose onto shaky legs. “I hope there is a pub somewhere nearby. I could use a drink right—”

“Uh, Thorin?” Fili’s voice was laden with concern. “We have company.”

They all turned to see a tall, dark haired man, armed with bow and arrow ready to go, aimed at Kili, standing on a boulder above them. “If any one of you moves, he is dead.”

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU

[magical-awesome-kid]

Thoughts I have for post season 2 Unsleeping City (now that I think I can spoil the ending)

So we know the Heroes of NYC have some kids in the mix and I LOVE that! They're tiny little babies and wonderful and if anything bad happens to them I will destroy one Brennan Lee Mulligan, everyone at College Humor, and then myself. But, anyway...

I think of the three Al will have the most time knowing of the Unsleeping City by the time that they all kind of get on the magical band wagon. I mean, all the parents want their kids to have as normal of lives as possible (Danny Shen still refuses to stand on the pavement and floats everywhere, and they REALLY want their kids to be, well, grounded). However, Al is a genius for her age. She is put in advanced classes since she started school (she didn't skip grades because her parents didn't want her to feel alienated amongst her peers). She reads just about everything she can grab and is a wiz with the computer.

I think she'll actually get her first spell book that way - she'll be at Grammercy on the non-magic side and JJ, who is still working there, accidentally gives her one of his tablets with spells downloaded on it instead of the ones with just normal kid books. Five minutes later when he realizes his mistake and rushes back, he finds that she's already cast her first cantrip - Mage Hand - to grab the cookies off the top shelf in the break room. It's over from there. I feel like Wizard would fit well but I'm also not opposed to multiclassing or Magical Initiate Feat. She has a familiar named Bean (he's a Dalmatian puppy). She's very smart and can be very mischievous, but she's kind down to her core. Invention Wizard fits her well, but maybe a little fighter, too.

You would think Langston would catch on that he's a dragon but honestly? He doesn't. He's a little dense like that but also Kingston and Liz are hard core "we will not screw up our kid he will have as normal of a childhood as he can." He's oft out in the city with anyone willing to chaperone him (later he can just go on his own) and explores all the historical sites. Like his dad, everyone seems to know him, and he knows a lot more people than he really should at his age. He only really catches on to the fact that he's magical when he ends up hitting puberty, and he starts coughing up icicles. His parents walk him through magic then.

He's super excited to find out about magic and hoards and all the cool things he can do as a dragon! But he's also still a baby. They talk to Smoczmatka (who they consider as family but not really mother-son because Dragons put a lot of weight in the bonds you make over the bonds you were born with) and the Shen family and both are like "yeah you're just coming into that but it may still be a few decades before you come to full power so enjoy being a kid." Langston as a teen could be classified as a Dragonborn. No one really knows his scale color - they think Steel for a while, given his temperament and weapon, but, when he comes into his full, he's a Platinum (the rarest and most powerful) Dragon. He's rather energetic but polite to no end. Loves history and hanging out with Aunt Esther and Cousin Al at the library (and especially when he gets into the magical history). He'd probably be a mix of Peace Cleric (he wants to help people) and Lore Mastery Wizard (because he loves his city and wants to know about it).

You'd think Cat, with two parents working in magical monk schools, would know about magic really young, but she's actually the last in on the family secret. Sure, she sometimes glows, but that's, like, just because she likes glitter! She eventually catches on that something is up and Langston, who has negative lying abilities especially to his family, spills the beans (Al is shaking her head in the background). Cat just looses her cool and, with the magic lifted from her eyes, goes full Protector Aasimar for the first time in her life. The screaming is a mix of shock, fear, and excitement from all parties until the nearest magical human shows up (probably Pete and Cody for their luck) and just go "oh shit."

Cat was always rough and tumbling growing up. She's very blunt and to the point, which does her as much good as it does bad. Still, she loves her family, her cat (who, once she can see past magic barrier, she realizes is a god), and friends to the ends of the earth. Also glitter. And combat boots. They work. She's not good with book work, as much as Dale tries to help her with her math, so she ends up learning a lot from Pete, Sophia, Ricky, and Rowan. A bard would be great for her because then she'd get her race's charisma boost, but so would sorcerer and paladin. Monk and Barbarian would also offer balance. Above all, I imagine her following Langston and Al to the library and pouring over books until she can cast Find Familiar (ie Magical Initiate Feat) and gets to bring La Gran Gata everywhere.

#The Unsleeping CIty #Al Matsui #Langston Brown #Cat Lee #Dimension 20

[madhyanas]

the sweetest and most important sound

Part [TBD] of the Hospitality series

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13 (Mainly due to verbal teasing and extremely mild language)

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: None, really. Some non-sexual intimacy, if you’d like to avoid that.

A/N: this is my first fic that’s staying posted, so feedback is welcome. i do have a series in mind with paz and this specific reader. check it out on ao3, too, if you want to see more detailed tags. title comes from a quote by dale carnegie. 

big inspirations for this were @no-droids​, @vercopaanir​ and @its-alltheway​​. also, i’m very new to tumblr, and @jangofctts​ has been lovely :)

Golden.

That’s what you see, what you feel. Stopped on some backwater, Outer Rim planet, your little travelling party finally has some time to relax. To tread on soft, grassy earth, and breathe in the sweet scent of flowers in the breeze. It’s a welcome change from recycled air and solid, mechanical floors.

The fresh, crisp forest atmosphere. You can taste it on your tongue, feel the chill of it as you inhale. You can detect the fragrance of berries, somewhere far off in the trees, and the earthy, waterlogged scent of silt closer by. A stream, perhaps.

You don’t know the name of the planet; you didn’t bother to ask Mando, excited as you were. You suspect it doesn’t have one; so untouched by war and Imperial rule that it just… remained. Literally, a land that time forgot. Someplace so out of the way that it soothes even Mando’s constant vigilance.

Two suns set over the horizon, and the sky is a dreamy blaze of orange and violet. Insects buzz faintly in the background, and you sigh.

The Hawk IV stands behind you, hatch down, as you rearrange some logs around Mando, who’s preparing firewood. Vosca’s giggles fill the air as she scampers through patches of tall grass. Keeping a close eye on her, you catch flashes of a crimson forehead as she stalks some kind of creature. A frog, you think.

The mild, familiar scent of her is comforting. You rub the white, geometric markings on your cheeks absent-mindedly, and will yourself to relax. She’s close, she’s safe, she’s happy.

It’s a nice thought to have.

“Give me a moment. I’ll be back,” Mando says suddenly, and you blink. The fireplace is lit, you notice, flames crackling. Your sturdy canvas satchel has been moved to sit upon one of the logs, noticeably dusted off. He stands, patiently waiting for you to respond before he goes. Helmet inclined towards you with a respect that manages to warm your cheeks every time.

“Ah, yeah. Of course.” You pause, and joke, “Just don’t run away with the ship, huh?”

There’s a burst of static through the vocoder, and you think it could be a snort, before he steps forward. His gloved hand falls on your shoulder, and you swallow thickly at the closeness. A scant few inches lie between the tip of your nose and his cuirass. “I would never.”

There’s a depth to his low voice that resonates within you. As if he’s taking an oath, kneeling at your altar. It’s… a lot more sincerity than you expect.

“Oh. Well, of course. I think Vosca would throw a fit.” You grin, attempting levity, but he shakes his head firmly. Leaving no room for debate.

“Even then, even if she were with me. I would— I would not leave you. I could not.”

The hand on your shoulder squeezes gently, and his helmet inclines down to your face, like he’s imploring you to understand. Staring up at him, your lips part as his meaning finally reaches you. His broad figure is backlit by the dusky glow around you, casting his silhouette over your smaller frame, and you like to think that behind the helm, those eyes are staring back with just as much wonder.

Your mouth is dry, as if you’ve crossed a desert for years. Only now finding the water to quench your thirst. His hand on your shoulder, as heavy and muscled as you know it to be, does not feel like a weight. It’s pulling you up, rising, and there are no words to describe the lightness in your heart.

He ducks his head then — the movement registers as shy, impossibly — and the palm slides off your shoulder, lingering down your arm, before ultimately leaving you at the hand. The cool kiss of leather on your skin makes your breathing hitch. A modulated sigh, before he repeats softly, “I’ll be back. Faster than you know.” He turns and begins the short walk to the ship.

There’s a bubbling urge to say something. “No need for dramatics,” you call after him, wiggling your toes in your boots. “But best hurry back, Mandalorian.”

He hesitates, a split-second pause that you would have missed, had you known him any less. You almost think you’ve imagined it, because when have you ever known Mando to hesitate? But then he continues without looking back, disappearing into the hull of the ship.

You slump down on a log bonelessly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. Your cheeks ache, and you realise you’re smiling.

“Ruusaan, Ruusaan!” A whirlwind of scarlet limbs tumbles in front of you. Startled, you blink at the little Zeltron girl. It’s rare that anyone manages to get the jump on you, but by now you know that Mando and his ward are exceptions to almost every rule in your book.

There are leaves and twigs stuck in the two brown braids running down the back of her head. She grins toothily at you, a smear of dirt on one cheek. Really, it’s more a bearing of teeth than anything else, feral thing that Vosca is. Her eyes are bright, shining with the thrill of a successful hunt, and she thrusts her little arms towards you. “Look what I caught!”

In Vosca’s grimy grasp, there’s a blue, particularly fat creature, rather like a toad. Held at the middle, its six limbs dangle loosely at the sides. Your nostrils flare minutely, but can’t pick up any scents of poisons or toxins, and you relax a fraction. It casts an unimpressed gaze over you once, and attempts a croak, but the child’s clutching grip digs in too deep to allow for the swell of its belly. Those lazy, golden eyes widen in panic, and you balk.

“Hey, bug, let’s just put it down for now, yeah?” Hastily, you extract the toad from Vosca’s hands, and she pouts at you. You still, and cradle your palms around the creature’s stomach, fingers resting gently on the front, in a caress rather than a pincer-grip.

“See here,” you explain, leaning in, as if you’re trading secrets. She ducks her head towards you in curiosity, and there’s a burst of tenderness in your chest. “We’ve got sharp, pointy fingers for animals like these. Gotta be careful. Be soft with it.”

Vosca’s eyes widen and she nods her head vigorously. A few dried leaves fall to the ground. A beat, then she asks shyly, “Can I try, please?”

Always so polite. While you don’t know for sure, you suspect it’s Mando’s influence. In any case, you don’t think you could deny her even if she’d demanded it. “Sure, bug.” Gently, you pass the toad back into her dusty, red palms. With a watchful eye, you see how quickly she takes to correction. Now holding the scared little thing with more care, less force. Precariously tilting it onto her chest, she frees one hand to stroke it tenderly across the back. The corner of your mouth ticks up fondly.

Then, carefully, she kneels down, and releases it. The toad immediately hops away into the tall grass with a vengeful ribbit, and your brows raise. Sensing the question on your face, she turns her face up to yours, doe eyes blinking up at you.

“It wasn’t prey,” Vosca says simply. “S’just for fun. Wouldn’t be fair to hurt it.” She shoots you another toothy smile, filling her whole face with innocent joy.

Huh. Always keeping you on your toes, this one. You return her grin as she sits next to you on the log. “Ah, that’s right, bug. Good girl.”

You lift your arm and she snuggles into your side, her scrawny body fitting into yours neatly. Lovingly, you press a kiss into her hair, eyes falling shut. You keep your head resting on hers, and she heaves a sigh as you idly stroke through the loose strands at the nape of her neck.

This is how Mando finds you, later. Half-asleep, curled around each other. Your eyes open at the fuzzy, tingling feeling on the back of your neck, and lo and behold: he’s watching you as he makes his way towards the makeshift campsite. His gait is familiar to you; the broad saunter of a man confident in his abilities, yet not foolish enough to be cocky. As if he couldn’t fill up a room already, his walk only amplifies his presence.

You blink lethargically, trying to focus. The sky is now a deep indigo, the bare beginnings of twinkling stars appearing across the heavens. It’ll be fully dark, soon.

The Mandalorian comes to stand over you. Once, you would have found his constant presence menacing. But now you smile at him, grateful for his company. It’s sweet, you think, how awkward he is. If you know what to look for. Most don’t have the chance to look beyond the beskar, and the assortment of weapons he lugs around.

He seems… duller, somehow. You shake your head lightly, dusting off the lingering fatigue, and you realise it’s true in the most literal sense. He’s not reflecting light as much as you would expect.

Aside from the helmet, he wears no beskar at all. Dressed in a dark, high-necked, shirt and canvas trousers, Mando seems comfortable. Relaxed. It’s a good look for him, you think.

“Did she fall asleep?” he asks you, nodding at Vosca, nuzzled in your arms. Her head emerges from where she’d buried it in your side, yawning blearily.

“I’m not… M’not sleepy,” she whines, squishing a chubby cheek against you. You and Mando both chuckle.

“Of course not, ad’ika.” You think he’ll hold his arms out to hold her, pick her up, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he just takes a seat next to you. The log creaks under his bulk, even without the added steel.

Vosca grumbles something under her breath, and you snort as she wriggles further into your warmth. She slumps bit by bit, falling asleep once more. You glance down at her, and the love you feel is all-encompassing.

Because you do love her. Your girl, just as much as she is Mando’s. You don’t know if she thinks of you as a mother, and the thought stings a little. An aunt, perhaps?

But without a doubt, you know she’s your child.

You’re startled out of your thoughts as a weight settles over your shoulders, and you look at the man next to you. Mando’s draping a cloak over you, tucking it around your frame and over the little girl in your arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you recognise the sturdy, brass-coloured clasp as his own.

“O-oh. You don’t have to…”

“You’ll get cold.”

He shuffles closer to fasten the clasp. As he raises his gloved hands and leans in, you wet your lips nervously.

His helmet shifts, ever so slightly, to follow the motion.

“But what about you?” you ask quietly, heart hammering in your chest. His long fingers meddle with the clasp at your clavicle; the weight of them on your person seems astronomical, for such a small, small thing. In the shining surface of the helmet, you can see the outline of your face, small and vaguely illuminated in the firelight, framed by those bold white strokes. But when you see them in Mando’s helmet, for once, you don’t think of your father’s matching stripes, of what you inherited from him. You think of how close you two are, in this moment.

He’s so close you can hear him breathe, too faint to be picked up by the modulator. There’s a small puff of air, escaping under the lip of his helm. Raw, unfiltered. You cling to it with all your heart.

“I will be fine, Ruusaan,” he rumbles. He’s leaning over Vosca’s snoozing body between you, arching carefully so he doesn’t disturb her. He’s… really quite close now.

Inhaling as subtly as you can, you catch the scent of him. Lingering on the thick wool, a clean blend of soap, blaster residue and freshly cut grass. Something smoky, too. It’s more soothing than you expect. Involuntarily, your nose twitches in delight, and his helmet tilts a fraction in response. You rush to distract him.

“But— But the armour.” Mando stares. “You’re not wearing any. Isn’t it cold? With— Without it, I mean.”

He dodges the question entirely. “Would you like me to put it on?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, sweetening his low baritone, and he quietens to a murmur as he sticks his head forward condescendingly. “I understand if this is too… scandalous."

You stifle an outraged squawk, and remove an arm from holding Vosca to swat his bicep. Your hand bounces harmlessly off corded muscle and you look away from him, cheeks burning. He just laughs at you, muffled for fear of waking the girl at your side.

You huff, resolutely averting your gaze, but it’s for naught. A large palm comes to cradle the side of your face, and your face feels tiny in its hold. He directs your eyes back to the visor with more care you’d ever expect, had you not known him so well. The smooth leather against your cheek is grounding, an anchor amongst the dizzying, overwhelming ocean of his presence. Surely, he can feel your flaming blush through the glove. In your embarrassment, a peculiar strike of courage grabs you by the throat.

With your free hand, you hold the glove cradling your face. Without taking your eyes off him, you lean into the touch, exhaling gently.

Mando stills. You can’t tell who’s predator or prey, here. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Deliberately, you squeeze your fingers around his own and an unfamiliar, choked noise comes out through the modulator.

You stare at him, and realise there’s hardly any distance between you. It’s nothing obscene, never could be with Vosca dozing in your arms, and yet you feel so giddy. There’s a type of intimacy here that you’ve never experienced before, never imagined before.You’re close enough that your breath fogs on the beskar.

“Mando…” you breathe.

Suddenly, the figure between you stretches awake with a yawn. You jump away from Mando as Vosca awakens with a long, languid yawn. The man beside her, a little subtler, leans back with the fluid, practiced grace of a warrior.

“Are you okay, Ruusaan?” she asks sleepily, oblivious to the moment now broken.  She pulls the cloak away from her to face you properly.

“W-what? Of course I am, hun, why…”

“S’just,” she starts, rubbing one eye. “I got woken up. Your heart’s beating really fast.”

Your eyes widen. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. You try to backtrack, “How about you go back to sleep, bug? It’s late.” You can feel Mando’s stare on you. Piercing, even through the steel.

Vosca frowns at you, scrunching her nose up endearingly. “But then you and alor’ad will be without me.”

After a moment of floundering, struggling to come up with an answer, Mando beats you to it. Planting a gentle, reassuring hand on her head from behind, he says simply, “We’ll never be without you, adi’ka. You know this.”

She leans her head completely backwards, and her braids dangle in the air. Arching her neck to look at him upside down, the vibrant red of her skin reflects in his helmet. There’s a flash of hesitation as she considers, and you jump at the opportunity.

“Bedtime, bug,” you say, standing. Mando’s nearly your height, you notice, even as he sits. You stuff the thought down. Later. “Got a big day tomorrow.”

Vosca mutters something under her breath moodily — something about how everyday’s the same — but her eyelids are drooping, and you figure you can let it slide. Just this once.

Maker, you’re impatient.

You sigh. Again. You hate to undo Mando’s work, but… “C’mon, hun. Floor’s more comfortable.” You undo the clasp deftly, and some subconscious level, it occurs to you that Mando is dextrous. More so than anyone you’ve ever met, probably. Fastening the clasp would take seconds.

No reason for him to linger as long as he did.

You smile faintly to yourself, and the ever-present heat burning in your cheeks this evening unfurls through your face.

You bundle the girl in Mando’s cloak as she lays down in the shallow grass. Tugging your canvas bag towards you, and place it beneath her head.

Kneeling down next to her, you stroke her hair once, twice. “G’night, alor’ad, g’night, Ruusaan,” Vosca mumbles, eyes falling shut once more.

“Goodnight, bug.” You lean down to peck her forehead tenderly, and she snuggles into her covering.

“Goodnight,” Mando returns kindly. At last, when you’re convinced she’s really out for the count, you steel your courage and look back to him.

From this angle, he’s glowing. Your lips part in wonder as you marvel at the rolling flames reflecting in the helmet. The flickering bronze and gold and scarlet washing over his bulky frame, defining the hard lines of his arms and chest beneath the shirt like something out of a painting. A relic of another time. Beautiful in its detail. Regal, even when most relaxed.

Silently, he holds a gloved hand out to you. You blink at it for a moment, too overwhelmed by this man you know so little about but oh, would you like to learn.

You take his hand, and suddenly he’s pulling you up with him to stand. Stumbling a little, your other palm comes to steady yourself on his chest. The movement feels so natural, so instinctual, and you worry you’re being presumptuous.

But then Mando’s free hand comes to rest on your waist — “Oh.” — and all other thoughts leave your mind.

“She’s asleep,” he notes, and you can feel his deep voice rumbling. Through the shirt, vulnerable and unprotected, his chest lies beneath your fingers. Solid muscle, yes, but there’s the soft give of flesh just like anyone else. It’s… nice. Pleasant, in the way it reminds you how human he is. How he lets himself be, in these fleeting moments of peace.

You hum. “Finally.” The hand on his chest gradually makes its way up his pectoral, tracing the ridge of his clavicle, before coming to rest on his shoulder. Without the pauldron, you can feel just how taut he holds himself. “Relax, Mando,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb back and forth in an attempt to soothe whatever’s running through his mind.

“Could tell you the same,” he replies smoothly, but you feel the strain in his shoulders lessen slightly under your gentle ministrations. The helmet tilts forward to hover next to your ear; it’s somewhat awkward, with how much he needs to bend down to do it, but that’s alright, you think. “Careful, Ruusaan. Does your heart still beat so quickly?”

Your jaw clenches momentarily, if only out of sheer embarrassment, because you know he’s right. “That’s— that’s not— Come on, Mando.”

The man chuckles, and at this meagre distance, you can feel it in your soul. Straightening just a little, he rests the side of his helm against your head. Not leaning, per se, or applying weight. Just touching. Keeping contact. The cool surface of beskar feels chilling against your molten cheeks.

With the hand joined with his, you curl your fingers, embracing the gaps between his. You both linger like that, for a while. Basking in the haze of firelight and safety; frozen in a half-dance, holding each other contently.

Then you realise. In another, strange instance of boldness, you murmur, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed yours either, smooth talker.” The reassuring thud thud thud beneath your fingertips is steady, as always. But you feel it’s more insistent, more urgent than you’d expect.

He doesn’t stutter or fumble like you do, but there’s a bashful sort of groan through the vocoder. It really shouldn’t be endearing as it is. “Ah, well. Seems I’ve been caught.” He plays along in a plaintive, mournful tone, and you stifle a snort. “Can’t be helped, I suppose.”

You nudge the helmet with your cheek playfully. “Oh? What’s that?”

He breathes a particularly wounded sigh, and you feel rather than hear him sober as he murmurs, “This is what you do to me, Ruusaan.”

Your jaw falls slack. Oh.

Your head is reeling with the implications of it. Him affecting you was one thing, because how could he not? With the way he fills a room and laughs at your stupid jokes and tells Vosca bedtime stories and holds you so carefully it feels like a lover caressing glass, about to shatter any moment—

Kinda how he’s holding you now, actually.

Your hand on his shoulder brings his head up from where it rests to look at you properly, and holds the blue steel in the indent where his cheek would be. You’ve been struggling for words, wondering how to respond to the affections of someone you admire so much. How to do him justice.

“You are so much to me, Mando.”

Timidly, your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and once more, his helmet tilts to follow the movement. You feel a kind of longing in that little shift, an age-old yearning borne of dedication to the Creed, from a man who feels everything so strongly.

The knowledge that you two will always be separated by a layer of beskar is always floating over your head. To say that you’ve made your peace with it would be a bold-faced lie, but—

Well, it’s who he is. To disrespect his Creed would be to disrespect him, and that you cannot allow.

But for the first time, you wonder how he feels about it. If that perennial ache in your chest whenever you glance at the helm resides in his, too.

Mando’s hand, previously resting on the slope of your waist, comes to hold your cheek. As if there’s a mirror between you, paralleling your stance to each other like clockwork. Two halves of a whole, reflecting each other.

Gradually, he tilts your face up to his. Leaning in, he touches the forehead of the helmet to yours, and your eyelids flutter shut, lashes barely grazing the metal. This time, the cold metal against your skin feels like a reprieve, freeing you from the burning sensation.

Like a kiss, you think absently. Is that what this is?

You’ve seen him do this before, with Vosca. Never truly knowing what it meant, what it signified to him, you’d left it alone.

You try to ask him, to make sense of the maelstrom of affection and yearning and want. “Mando—”

But his shoulders tense suddenly. “No.”

You blink. “N-no?”

He draws away, then. His hand is still cradling your face, but the helmet retreats, and you panic. What happened? What did you do? What boundary did you overstep to ruin something so torturously good—

He says your name. The name your mother gave you, not the nickname he and your girl call you in their language. “May I give you something?”

You’re confused, to say the least. The emotional range he’s currently choosing to display could give you whiplash. He’s not a very materialistic man, you know, and what could he possibly be giving you now, in this moment?

“I— I don’t think you could give me anything greater than this.”

He deflates. “Oh, ner kar’ta,” he croaks, stroking his thumb over your flushed cheek. Even through the modulator, the foreign syllables drip from his mouth like liquid gold, tongue rolling over the consonants in a way that makes you shiver. “I would be honoured to try.”

Wordlessly, you nod, still not fully comprehending what he means.

He must sense your bemusement. The grip on your side tightens nervously, and you dig your heels in to swallow a squeak. “My name is not ‘Mando’, cyare.”

And the world collapses beneath your feet.

This is new territory, dangerous territory. This is uncharted land, and you feel like you’re trespassing on the tricky, treacherous land of his very being.

You must look ridiculous. Like a fish, mouth bobbing open and shut. He chuckles, a small, subdued thing, and you immediately think it doesn’t suit him. The urge to fix it, to help him, crawls up your spine and settles in your gut.

You bite down the nerves scrambling up your throat to accept what he’s giving you. To reassure this man in your arms, who you have come to care for so deeply, and for yourself. To satiate the niggling curiosity in that corner of your mind left forcefully ignored for so long.

“If you’re sure.” You pause, and add, “Only if you’re sure. This isn’t… an obligation.” It’s somewhere between a question and a statement. You can both hear the moniker you’re avoiding, the cavernous gap opened up by what he’s offering you.

“I know. This is what I wish to give.” And there’s the Mandalorian you know, steadfast and confident, unwavering in the face of adversity. Willing to cross the gap into the unknown with you.

You remain silent, and step closer to press yourself to him. Feeling his pounding heartbeat against yours. Allowing the words to come from him, at his own pace, the warmth of your combined body heat hopefully calming his nerves.

Just as your eyes drift shut, content to wait as long as he needs, you hear it. Quiet, rasped through the helmet.

“Paz. Paz Vizsla.”

You inhale sharply, and look up. Oh, stars. It feels surreal, having a name to the face. Or lack thereof. To think he’d really trust you with such a core part of his being. You’re not sure if this breaks his Creed, or if there are loopholes, but as of now, you don’t care.

It… suits him. Short, robust. Yet somewhat lyrical on the tongue.

“Can I say it?” you ask meekly. The last thing you need right now to is to overstep, not when you’ve come so far.

“Please,” he breathes.

And the floodgates open. A smile breaks over your face, soft and eager, and you swell with affection. “Paz.”

A beat passes, in which everything you love hangs in the balance, and then he laughs. A true, full-bodied, bark of laughter that would ring in your ears long after it stops, but it doesn’t — it spills out of him like water spluttering through the fissure of a dam, bursting forth with all the weight of its years of confinement. He keeps laughing and laughing and then he’s holding you tightly with both arms, swinging you around. With anyone else, the action would’ve scared you. Would’ve been interpreted as a wild, uncontrolled invasion of space.

But with Mando— No. With Paz, you feel like you’re flying. You’re reminded of your days piloting through hyperspace, and the pride of swimming amongst the stars.

You shriek as your feet leave the ground, but it soon dissolves into giggles as he holds you above him.

(The ease with which he can manhandle you, can wrap both of those large, large hands around your comparatively diminutive hips, brings a blush to your face. But that’s a thought for another time.)

Eventually, he places you back on solid ground, and you beam up at him. He’s panting lightly, though you know lifting you was an easy task for someone of his strength. It’s okay. You feel breathless, too.

“Only with me,” he says. “And Vosca.”

You nod gravely. Maker, you’d never use it with anyone, just for the pleasure of knowing he trusts you. “I give you my word.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the girl in question snoring lightly, still bundled up in Paz’s cloak. Somehow still asleep; you’re immensely grateful.

He returns the nod, and it’s funny how formal it seems compared to the little display you just put on. Paz stares for a moment longer, then huffs. “You sound like a Mandalorian.”

“Is that… good?”

He’s quiet, like he’s trying to find the words. “We may rubbing off on you— I may be rubbing off on you.”

You take a moment to look at him. Beskar gleaming in the moonlight, softly reflecting the fire behind you. He’s bared before you in a way that makes you feel safe. Maybe even loved.

“That might not be too bad.”

And so it goes. You and Paz stand under the stars, flames crackling at your feet, bending towards each other like flowers to the sun.

———

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla/you #paz vizsla/reader #my writing #the mandalorian #reader-insert #original child character #she's vosca and she's my baby ok damn #could be part of a series? i'll let y'all know #star wars #the heavy infantry #heavy infantry #series: hospitality #sw #EDIT: is now part of a series! check 'series: hospitality' for more :)

[writingfromkitchenator]

The Mad Dawn

Written for @sdavid09 Tale Teller’s Fright Night 2020 ~ Thank you so much for this amazing opportunity and challenge!  This was awesome fun as someone who has a deep love for horror and felt real good to be able to write something like this!

Happy Halloween everyone!

Inspired by Dawn of the Dead

Inspired by Mad World by Gary Jules

Set several months after the battle of the five armies, Erebor is awoken to bells ringing in Dale, a bleak warning for what comes over the course of the night and into the dawn.

Pairings: Thorin x F!OC (previous), Dain x F!OC (current)

Words: 3,811

Warnings: Zombies, grief, minor talking of blood and fighting (nothing intense or graphic), major character death and reanimation (it is zombies after all), bleak future outlook.

The bells sounded in Dale, ringing through the darkness in the middle of the night.

Feet hurried, left the warmth of their beds, hastily pulled on armour as they scurried to the gates of Erebor.  Fear of the not so distant memory of a dragon clung to the dwarves, murmurs filling the halls as some sat still, holding their breath.

At the gates, a messenger arrived, pale faced and stammering, and it took a few minutes for the words to come from him, the bell continuing to ring.

“The dead,” He croaked.  “The dead are rising.”

The dwarves were confused for a moment until screaming began within their own halls and soldiers threw themselves into action, shaking off the thought of the messenger at the gate, even as he screamed after them.

“They’re rising from the lake!  The dead have returned!”

Orders were given, hurried footsteps marching loudly through the halls before falling silent.

Dain was shouting, but no one was listening, the soldiers all having stopped to stare, another army approaching from the halls of the dead.

“Mahal have mercy on us,” Dain breathed, the glistening dead eyes staring back at him, sending a cold chill up his spine, unlike anything he had felt before.  “Get the Queen!  Get her out of here now!”

Myara was on her feet, pacing the bedroom, the bells still sounding in Dale, a sound signalling doom was upon them.

There was a knock on the door and she hurries to throw it open.

Dwalin stood there, his expression grim.  “We need to go.”

“What? What is happening?”  She asked as Dwalin marched in and started gathering a few small items into a traveling pack.

He swallows, casting her a look, one that drifts down to her swollen stomach.  “I think it’s best if you don’t know my Queen. We need….we need to go.”

She rests a hand on his arm.  “Dwalin…”

Dwalin shakes his head.  “Get dressed Myara.  Please.”

A cold chill settled over her, the hair rising on the back of her neck, and she moves as best she can to throw on travelling clothes and what armour she could, the sword on her belt looking strange against her stomach.

“You know I will defend you with my life,” Dwalin said quietly, an odd note in his voice as he waited by the door.  “As will anyone in Erebor, but I will warn you now…” He swallows.  “This is unlike anything we have faced before.”

Out in the hall, Bofur and Nori waited, both pale and afraid, although doing their best to hide it.

Myara looked between them and then at Dwalin again.  “Please.  Just tell me.”

Dwalin shakes his head and takes her arm, starting to lead her down the hall.  “Trust me, nothing I say will be able to prepare you. Let’s hurry.”

Soon, Bombur, Bifur, Dori, Ori and Oin had joined them.

“Gloin has already got his wife and son out,” Oin explained.  “They’ll meet us there.”

“And Gloin?” Dwalin asked.

Oin’s expression went grim.  “Has gone back to the fighting.”

Myara looked at Dwalin.  “Where is Balin?”

He shakes his head.  “I do not know.”

Their footfalls seemed to fall oddly in the halls, against the backdrop of the ringing bell, the shouts of soldiers, and Myara had a growing feeling she had felt before, long ago, when a dragon had attacked.

A blood curdling scream made them all freeze, all of them arming themselves as they stared into the darkness at the other end of the hall.

Dwalin went forward slowly, cautiously, his axe out in front, trying to see through the dark. His grip was tight, too tight, his hands slipping as sweat built up from the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Myara almost screamed, tears filling her eyes at the sight coming down the hall towards them.

“Thorin…” Dwalin breathed, his axe lowering slightly.  “Thorin please…no…”

Several months of decay had twisted Thorin’s features, the cut that had been sealed was now split and oozing thick black blood, his skin an ashen whitish green. He shuffled towards them, lifeless eyes on Myara.

Myara thought she was going to be sick, her fingers subconsciously finding the bead in her hair, the bead that Thorin had not long put in before the battle of the five armies, seated securely above Dain’s.

“Thorin, don’t-don’t come any closer.  I meant it.” Dwalin’s voice cracked, his feet carrying him slowly back, the others all tense.

It seemed that none of the soldiers had had the heart to fight him.

There is a further shuffling noise behind Thorin, and Fili and Kili join him, a low groaning growl leaving their throats, and Thorin’s hand reaches out for Myara.

“Go,” Dwalin said thickly, turning away from the sight.  “Go!”

Several hands forced her to move, hurrying her in the other direction from the horrible sight. Her chest ached, her heart broken again. What had they done to deserve this horror?

“Where is Dain?”  She managed to ask, her voice soft and broken.

“In the front lines,” Dwalin said, casting her a worried look, but still constantly glancing behind them, worried that the shambling corpses of their friends would follow.  “He will try and meet us there.”

“Dwalin-”

“Myara, we all swore to protect you and Thorin’s child,” Dwalin said.  “Swore with our lives, no matter what would come. Dain is doing this protect you.”

She hangs her head and focuses on moving, doing her best not to think about how this could turn out, about she could lose all those that she loved.  It was to ignore the grief of what she’d seen, but she knew if she was to survive, she would have to.

Winding passage after winding passage passed them in a blur and Myara looked over the edge of one of the many bridges in Erebor, normally lit in golden light. Fire burned below, illuminating the soldiers fighting off the dead that seemed to fill the halls endlessly, many in varying states of decay, but the freshest were those from that horrible battle, weapons still in hands as if it had been sealed around them in death, and she knew the soldiers were grieving once again.  She caught a flicker of red hair, of a mighty shout, but it quickly disappeared in the ocean of bodies beneath her and she was hurried into another hall before she could call Dain’s name.

The bells of Dale went silent.

They hurried past another hall and a loud screech caused them to freeze, several corpses shambling towards them, some of them old and some of them very fresh, bleeding wounds still fresh under their armour.  This lot was moving quicker, Bombur, Bofur and Bifur all sharing a look and nodding, stepping between the oncoming dead and the rest of the group.

“No-”

“You need to go,” Bofur said, giving a nod to Myara.  “We’ll deal with these and catch up.”

Dwalin takes Myara’s arm again and leads her on, his expression grim.  The sound of fighting followed them for a long few moments before all fell silent once again, their footsteps falling softly through the hall.

Tears streaked down her cheeks, but she keeps herself silent, her grip tight on her sword. Erebor would not fall today, not after everything that it had already been through, not after they had not long got it back, she had to believe that.

A deep rumble echoes through the ground, making the group stop and a fear filled look to pass between several of them.

“It’s not possible,” Dwalin breathed.  “No, I refuse to believe it, not with all this going on as well.”

He marched ahead and the others slowly followed, Myara still keeping her head held high.  All of them grew more anxious the further they went.  Why were the dead rising?  Why were they being haunted like this, after all that they had suffered? Those that they had loved, those that they had already mourned, now seemingly after them and their blood.

Another rumble goes through the halls, dust falling from the ceiling and Myara mourned, as she knew the others were, mourned that they were just getting back their homes, their lives, and now this would change everything again.

There was a kick in her stomach and Myara let out a steadying breath.  She had no choice but to survive.  She had to survive.

They reached the secret entrance just as there was a roar outside.  They had all been there, they all knew that sound.

“Mahal have mercy on us,” Myara breathed.  “This cannot be happening.”

Footsteps sound suddenly behind them, and Dwalin and Nori quickly step in front of Myara, Oin, Dori and Ori stepping in close on the sides.

With a limping shuffle and the shine of blood on his head, Dain stepped into view, his face pale under the blood, an equally injured Bofur was hanging on his shoulder.

“We need to go,” Dain grumbled.  “We need to go now.”

Myara hurried to his side and helped him, while Nori took Bofur, a pained grin on his face.

“You should just leave me here.”  He said grimly.  “I’m pretty sure I’m gone for.”

“Not a chance,” Nori said firmly.  “I think we’re going to lose enough today as it, without you staying here.”

Bofur laughs grimly, but it quickly silenced by the pain, holding onto the worst of the wounds as best he could.

“What is happening?”  Myara asked, trying to see the extent of Dain’s wounds.  “I saw…I saw…”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it, the ache in her chest too much, but by Dain’s grim expression, he understood.

“I saw him too,” Dain said quietly, taking her hands and kissing them gently, his own expression pained.  “But we cannot dwell on it.  There is nothing that we can do for them.”

Screeching and growls come from down the hall.  As quickly as they could, they hurried out the door and swung it closed behind them.

Outside, Myara stared out towards Dale, her breathe stolen as she saw fires burning once again, but her attention was only held briefly as an all too familiar roar cut through the air, earning all of their gazes.

A large dark form was in the sky, coming from where Lake Town was still being rebuilt. All of them standing there knew what the form was, and they all watched helplessly as it headed towards the burning city.

“This isn’t happening,” Ori said quietly, voicing what they were all thinking.  “Smaug was dead, we all saw him fall.”

“We saw a lot of those we’ve seen fall,” Dain said grimly.  “It seems that the gods have abandoned us tonight.”

A green light filled Smaug’s chest and even from where they stood they could make out the rotting dark red scales, the black arrow still embedded deeply into Smaug’s chest.  The fire erupted from his chest, illuminating the sky in a vivid green glow.

Dain’s hand rests on Myara’s lower back.  “Do you think you can get down alright?”

Myara’s jaw clenches and she nods, Ori and Dori leading the way so she can follow, Dwalin and Dain close behind, Oin and Nori taking up the rear, helping Bofur as best they could.

“Where is Tula and Gimli?”  Oin asked, huffing a little.  “They should have been here.”

“Tula is no fool,” Dain said.  “She knew that they could not have waited long.  Hopefully we find them later.”

The night felt so cold as they reached the ground, Myara’s arms wrapping around herself as they waited for the others to get down.  There were screams in the distance, and her gaze turned towards the gates of Erebor, the fires still burning brightly, enough to illuminate the figures struggling there.  A wave of nausea struck her, and she managed to just get a little further away before she was sick, the stress all a little too much.

Dain was there in a flash, his hands rubbing her back gently until the vomiting eases, and she breathes deeply, getting herself back in control.  “Easy love, take it slow.  You are going to need all the strength you can muster to get through this.”

Myara nods, barely listening, feeling a ringing starting in her ears.  Whatever had caused these events was nothing normal. Whatever had called Thorin back, had brought Smaug back, it seemed to be against her people.

There was more screaming and she looked back up towards Dale.  “Is…is there nothing we can do?”

“We could not even hold them at bay ourselves,” Dain said, helping her straighten out.  “I stayed as long as I could before we were overrun.  I was not proud in calling a retreat.”

Myara rests a gentle hand on his arm, earning his gaze where he was hiding his pain.  “This is beyond any of us Dain.  We will get away and find help.  We can-”

There was a shout and they turned, seeing Bofur practically falling on top of Nori, pulling away from Oin, but there was a snarl leaving him, one that was cold and empty, almost animalistic.

Dain moved first and shoved Bofur off Nori, Bofur’s body thudding into the stone with a sickening crack and sat there, unmoving, his hat sitting soaked in blood next to his head.

“What-what happened?”  Nori asked, his face almost white, staring at Bofur.  “He…he went limp and then-then-”

“That’s what has been happening,” Dain growled, cautiously approaching Bofur.  “They’ve been dying and then getting back up, sometimes partly eaten.  Not much seems to slow them down, although a sharp knock usually disables them, at least for a time.”

A stunned silence sat around everyone, even as Dain crouched next to Bofur, gently prodding him, his expression pained.  Slowly, he sighs, and gets back to his feet, shaking his head, earning more than a few grief stricken expressions, Dwalin cursing silently under his breath.

“Tonight has been a tragic night,” Dain said.  “We need to get moving now, before it gets any worse.”

“But Bofur…”  Nori said, his face still pale.

“There isn’t anything we can do now,” Dain shakes his head and re-joins Myara.  “We must move on before they realise that some of us have gotten out.”

Myara sniffs and shudders, her mind almost numb now to what was happening, but she couldn’t rid herself of a bad feeling that had been growing her since she’d seen Thorin earlier.  Dain’s hand rests gently on her and she nods, starting to lead them all away from the distance screams and the sickening roar of the dead dragon.

“How will others get out?”  Ori asked quietly as they walked.  “There has to be something else that we can do.”

“There are many paths through Erebor,” Dain said.  “And as much as it pains me to say it, they will have little choice but to try them. ��The hoard that we were facing was nothing to be taken lightly.  It may just be the end of the world as we know it.”

A chill goes up Myara’s spine and she finds herself stopping dead in her tracks, Dain almost running straight into her, his hands resting on her for a moment before he sees what she’d stopped to stare at.  Quickly, he moves in front of her, the others reacting accordingly, all pretending they couldn’t see the shake of the sword in her hand.

“Thorin…” She breathed, her voice barely audible even in the silence that suddenly seemed to surround them.

“You will go no further,” Dain said loudly, even as more figures begin to step out beside Thorin.  “This is not your world anymore.  You will return to where you came from.”

Dawn was approaching, the light starting to peak over the horizon, illuminating the walking corpses more and more.  Myara stared with wide eyes as Thorin starts to approach, unaffected by Dain’s words, and it was only now that they could see the Arkenstone still clutched tightly in one hand, but it was no longer rich and vibrant, reminding her of starlight, now it was blood red and dark, but still unmistakable.

“I will give you one last warning,” Dain’s voice went low, into almost a growl.  “Whatever creature you are, you will leave and you will not return, releasing all those you have under your spell.”

A low snarl in the air and it took them all a moment before they realised that it was coming from Thorin, or what had once been Thorin, because none of them could be certain that they could even call him that anymore.

“My…ara…”

Myara’s breath caught in her throat and the tears started again, shaking her head, not wanting to face the reality of this, her chest aching so much.  If it wasn’t for Dain’s protective hand on her, then she knew she’d be running, and she knew that she wouldn’t stand a chance, not against Thorin, or whatever this things now was.

“Dwalin,” Dain’s voice was quiet, firm.  “I want you to take Myara and I want you to get as far from here as you can.  Do not stop until you can find somewhere safe, or someone that can help.”

“Dain, you can’t-”

He glances back at her, his expression set.  “I am sorry love, I know that you deserve more than this, but for you survive, for our people to have a chance, this must be done.  Oin, go with them.”

“I can’t lose you too,” Myara said.  “I can’t…I can’t see you like this too.”

“Dwalin,” Dain’s gaze left her.  “Please. Your duty is to your king, and this is your kings final order.”

Dwalin swallowed and nods slowly, stepping in beside Myara, even as she stares at Dain with tears in her eyes.  “What…what about the others?”

“It is their choice,” Dain said grimly, holding Thorin’s cold, dead gaze.  “It is an honour to have fought by all of you.”

Dwalin looked around at the few others left as Oin stood by Myara’s other side.  Dori, Nori and Ori all nodded grimly to him and moved and stood next to Dain.  With a final glance back at the growing number of dead, they could now make out a few more faces, Fili and Kili, Balin and Gloin, and many other soldiers and citizens, that they had laughed with, spoke with, and they knew that there wasn’t a choice left.

“It has been an honour my King,” Dwalin said, taking Myara’s hand.  “I will do all that I can.”

Dain nods, his grip tight on his weapon as the horde slowly approaches.  “My Queen…I’m sorry that we didn’t get more time.”

Myara felt herself go back to end of the battle of the five armies, of having too much to say and too little time to say it, of suddenly feeling like the world was being pulled out from under her feet again, and she couldn’t stop the whimper that built up from her chest.

“It’s not fair,” She whispered.  “It’s just not fair.”

“No, it’s not love,” Dain said.  “But you need to go.”

Dwalin and Oin start to pull her gently away, the weight of the situation sitting heavily on their shoulders.

“I love you…” Myara managed to get out, her voice broken, tears rolling down her cheeks as her hands rest over her stomach.

There was no chance to say anything else, the four dwarfs standing alone against the approaching dead, even as Thorin’s gaze follows Myara as Dwalin leads her away.

Myara can’t watch anymore, turning away, her eyes blurred with tears, letting herself be led by Dwalin and Oin, know she would go back if they so much as let her go or got her to focus.  Dwalin and Oin remained silent, both in their own grief, and knowing that the sudden task before them, was going to be even harder than the one they had not long come from.

Eventually, as the morning light spilled over the land, the sun just beginning to peak, the three of them stopped and looked back from their position on a ridge. Dale and Erebor were burning, the distant figure of Smaug crawling its way to the gates of Erebor.

The worst though, the worst was the horde, they could all see it clearly from where they were, a large group of dead, men and dwarves alike, all together, all moving slowly, and the three of them on top of that ridge could not bear to look too long, just in case there was another face they recognised.

Myara sighs and pulls her hood over her head, not wanting the see the world any longer as she stares at her swollen stomach and wonders just what will happen to them now, of how she was meant to raise a child in a world like this.  She didn’t want to face the fact that she was going to have to start again, she felt like she’d started again too many times, and now this time, it was almost alone, only the two others by her side and whoever ever they could possibly find in this mad new world.

Dwalin rests a hand on her lower back, earning her gaze, and she can see the grief and despair matched in his gaze, can see the same questions burning away in his mind, but he just nods, his expression stony, one she returned.

There would be time to grieve later, time to speak and try and answer those questions, but for now, again, they had to move, had to find safety, maybe a friend. There was no time to focus on those big questions, or the self-despair that sat in the backs of all their minds.

“Hopefully we can find Tula and Gimli,” Oin said, but there was little hope in his voice. “Hopefully they came this way.”

“Just keep your weapon close,” Dwalin said, shouldering his axe.  “We do not know what the paths ahead will be like.  Let’s just start by getting as far away from here as possible.”

Oin nods, casting a glance at Myara, his expression turning worried, seeing her head down, her face hidden beneath her hood, hiding herself from the world as much as the world was hidden from her.  Dwalin just shakes his head slightly and the two men share an understanding look before helping her away this place.

Silence followed them, no birds singing in the dawn, no beasts stirring from slumber, no voices starting as they start the day.  In that silence, it’s just the three of them leaving their world behind, Myara’s hand tightly wrapping around the two beads in her hair, a soft sob leaving her, a sob that seemed to echo through the ages and be the voice of the times to come.

#tale teller’s fright night 2020 #the hobbit #dawn of the dead #mad world #thorin x f!oc #dain x f!oc #zombies #horror #halloween #post bofta

[complacencyavp]

AvP: Requiem Revisions

Most of the below isn’t going to be seen or mentioned outside of maybe a prologue for the fanfiction that I doubt will ever progress beyond an overly detailed draft and some snippets, focusing on fan characters. I’m not all that happy with what I have below, but hope it makes a bit more sense then the movie. I am really confused by the timeline of it something I hope I addressed here.

I tried to focus on human character interactions, relationships, and the fall of the town as they preoccupied far too much of the screen though aren't memorable. Let the two who lost their partners bond early on, the brothers reconcile, use the army woman and the ex-convict brother as foils for each other.

The death of the child(ren) and pregnant woman is something that I’d much rather have been implied rather than shown. If you're going to show such things let it have an influence and not just be ceaseless violence. Regardless, I prefer AVP:R to what we got with Shane Black’s The Predator (I am on the spectrum myself).

Gunnison, Colorado plays a big role in one of my fan characters, Andreanna’s story. Her mother lived through the event and though she moved to the cities hoping to escape it, she is still tied to the town. Her daughter, Andreanna, is driven to find out what happened and due to custodial concerns ends up living with her grandfather and frequents the cordoned area frequently which eventually leads to her “abduction”.

The destruction of the town leads to a war on terrorism in my fanfiction furthering Weyland’s, Yutani’s, Borgia’s, and others' progress. She goes on to mention Gunnison a few times with some rather disturbing connotations.

The following is canon divergent with what occurred over a few nights occurring over a far longer period. Once again, I’d much rather have a lot of some of the more horrible scenes be implied not shown.

Day 1.

The Yautja ship crashes in the woods. Dallas Howard, a recently released convict in a case for burglary gone wrong is released. Molly (army mom) also gets off at the same stop, having been away for a few years she is unaware of his history among the town and talks to the other about missing her kid and asks him if he is missing anyone, Dallas mentions his brother fondly.

Sam (the kid, 8-10 years old with heterochromia) and Buddy Benson (his middle-aged? dad) are out hunting deer and find the Yautja ship. Fearing for their safety they flee but are implanted, disillusioned, and lost they spend a night out in the woods waking up and trying unsuccessfully to find their way home. The chest bursters emerge the following evening, day 2.

The face hugger that got shot ends up elsewhere.

Day 2.

Darcy (Sam’s Mother) reaches out to file a missing person’s report, she mentions that they were out hunting deer to the police officer Ray. And that every time they went camping previously, they usually called her every night, if not the following morning. Both parents looked pretty old so Sam is their miracle baby.

Ray, expecting his own child,promises to look into it and heads up to where she said they usually camp, doesn’t find anything and radioed the others to set up a search later that day.

The police officers set out looking for them. Eddie Morales, a corrupt or at minimum a shady sheriff goes and talks to the pair of homeless men that call their storm drain their home. The other cops stop searching at 8, when the sun goes down but Ray doesn’t.

Ray is skinned by the “predalien”. In some deleted scenes the three Yautja, predators, on the ship were skinned by the abomination. If there was an infestation I don’t think Wolf would waste the time unless he did it first thing so I'm skipping over that.

Day 3.

Wolf arrives and lands his ship in a swamp, upon realizing what aided in bringing the ship down and killing the crew. Wolf determines that he is unprepared and salvages what he can. He instructs the other ship to detonate before setting off in search of the serpents tracking their secretions. He findings the across the first two to be hosts and takes the time to close their eyes before dissolving them. Disgusted by Ray's corpse poorly skinned draped over a tree and gives it the same treatment.

Another search party with volunteers is quickly organized (tourists getting lost is common); they aren’t able to find either the first two victims or Ray. Carrie, Ray’s pregnant wife comes to the scene as well as Darcy, both mothers are distressed.

High school drama occurs with Ricky’s keys being stolen by bully Dale and tossed into the storm drains. Show some government stuff going on in the background or at least company with stereotypical vehicles. Only Darcy and Dallas notice.

The remaining three face-huggers attack the two men (Harry+other) and woman in the sewer. The one on the woman is about to implant itself when it is ripped away from her face and tossed aside by the abomination. Given the spirit of AVP:R, their dog was probably “repurposed” too.

Day 4.

Ricky and Dallas go into the storm drain but are spooked by hissing and a “large snake” and leave. Morales (shady cop) finds them leaving and is confused, confronting the older brother after dropping Ricky off at his job.

He brings Dallas (ex-convict) to the “Breakfast All Day Dinner” where much to his surprise Carrie is working, unable to sleep. She becomes distressed by the other's presence and the uncertainty of what happened to her husband and retreats to the back room.

Morales has some level of responsibility in Ricky and Dallas’s situation, and feels responsible for Ricky’s care on some level?

Jessie stops uninvited by Ricky’s house. A bad storm hits, Jessie and Ricky get to talk about how they figured their lives would have been different- her home was one robbed by his brother's gang which resulted in the end of their friendship(?). They flirt.

The fight in the sewer occurs causing the hive to scatter after Wolf kills some more space cockroaches.

Wolf tracks down the hive’s new nest, late at night, but there are only a few present, he also gets impaled in the process. The town's power supply is damaged and begins to fail. Though it’s after closing Carrie stays behind with Richie to try to get the generator working for the dinner. She starts it and heads back in only to be accosted.

Army couple has difficulties in their marriage as Molly, struggling to relate to her daughter, contemplates returning to duty. The power has been out for a while and their argument is disrupted by Kelly (their daughter) who is distressed seeing a monster, she often sleeps with her light on and only has a flashlight, her mother opens the closet but doesn't find anything.

Day 5.

Darcy becomes concerned about Carrie (old student of hers?), not answering her calls, and goes to the dinner- the closed sign is still up but the backdoor is open so she goes on in, it's not pretty. She hears something rustling before she gets the lights on.

Darcy calls another police officer in hysterics. The other police aren’t sure what to make of things but, agree with her that Dallas’s return is suspicious, her testimony put him away before. Unable to find proof, that he did it but, with him having an alibi they don’t charge him despite Darcy’s insistence. Dallas stays in jail on some other charge another cooked up(improper vehicle license?). Chaos sets ins once it starts to storm.

That “no monster” scene occurs where the child’s dad, Tim, is killed and Molly, mom drags her out of the house though bottoms out on a weak stretch of road that had caved in from the fight earlier; heads to the police for aid.

Shady cop goes and gets Dallas’s brother worrying for his safety, reuniting the family. Molly is wary of Dallas after hearing what happened but wonders if it might be the same thing.

Day 6.

National Guard arrives at 2 am the following day and begins trying to evacuate those outside certain areas, it causes additional panic and strain upon setting the boundaries, not helped by Darcy’s fear-mongering at church.

The power in the hospital starts to go out forcing the doctors and nurses to rearrange patients to care for them using the emergency generator- xenos get in late at night.

Orders change and the national guard goes to keeping people contained causing riots and shootings. Shady cop and older brother rob a gun store have their first real confrontation with the monsters. Jessie's ex-boyfriend (show/mention him being rash) puts the group in danger and dies.

Xeno ambush in town.

Day 7.

Chaos and the storm continue though everything is strangely silent and clear, Morales connects with Colonel Stevens who tells them to rendezvous in the center of town for an airlift. Kelly takes an abandoned tank and figures the gov is lying to them. The order changed and they want to keep the creatures contained (where they would be bait). Morales stays with the group (having some loyalty to the brothers), Darcy leaves with another small group to the center of town.

The hospital is a mess, doctors and patients are corpses. The walls are weird as is any cramped, enclosed area, the reception area is startlingly clear. The elevator doesn’t work and thus they have to use the stairs. Ricky is skewered and is still bleeding badly despite the armor.

Looking for bandages they stumble across the pediatric center, it is frighteningly still, the nursery is empty, but they persist and enter into a room with hollowed corpses. They hurry off once one that is intact twitches.

Wolf ventures to the hospital pursuing his prey. His presence pisses the xenos off. Molly and Kelly see the “one with eyes” amongst the halls fighting the others. Jessie is killed by a wayward shuriken from Wolf.

Humans try to make it through the roof but, are nearly swarmed. Ex-con steals fallen alien weapon on the roof seing the other use it. Shady Cop chooses to save the group by pulling a fire alarm, an unexpected surprise.

Wolf and the predalien fight, Wolf takes off his mask and the thing waits. US gov nukes the area- explodes, sets off Wolfs bomb-implodes leaving the area decimated.

Day 8.

The helicopter is quickly found though their fate is up in the air, they've made it out, at a cost, and even then that's not a certainty. Yutani receives the gun.

Other Notes:

Sewers/storm drains are built far larger as it was intended to be the site of the nearby army base though the contract fell through once significant faults were identified.

The bombing is passed off as a terrorist attack with it being said to have been sent to target the nearby army base. The US used this to push a war.

Schisms occurred amongst the hive, with slightly different appearances in build and growth rates across those spawned by the abomination (12 hours) versus those from the face-huggers (18-24 hours). Perhaps there was infighting amongst the sections of the hive hence why there were a few “nest site locations”.

The alien-predator skinned the cop and waited which may imply at some level of remembering, all the more reason why they are terrifying to Yautja.

If you have suggestions or questions feel free to leave them in the inbox.

#complacencyavp #avp #aliens vs predator #yautja #xenomorph #avp:r

[rattyoakenbitch]

The Hobbit: In My Feelings || Thorin x Elf Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death sadness.

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x (short) Elf Reader

Note: OKAY, I’M SORRY IF THIS SOUNDS STUPID BUT I HAD TO. Basically, Gandalf & Galadriel did the nasty, resulting in a child, which is you. I don’t know if Elves and Wizards can.. you know, but I don’t care. I ship Gandalf & Galadriel wayyy too much and they’d be the coolest parents. Also, I was listening to Lana Del Rey’s “In My Feelings”, which just gave me this sad and sort of angry vibe, so I thought I’d make an imagine sort of releasing all that anger. I don’t know if that made any sense. 

Summary: Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain, your One, was taken over by dragon sickness. When Bilbo shares a little secret about having the Arkenstone in his possession, you take his side, angering Thorin. 

“It’s a trick! The Arkenstone is here in this mountain!” Thorin’s voice boomed. The king looked down intently at the bargeman, who was tossing the stone up and catching it as if it were a paper ball, only infuriating him more.

“It’s no trick. I gave it to them.” You close your eyes as you hear Bilbo’s words. You both kept the stone a secret, but now you were on edge, thinking about Thorin’s reaction. You were certain he would just about blow up. Thorin slowly turned around, staring Bilbo down, his face unreadable. 

“You?”

“I took it as my fourteenth share,” the hobbit said sheepishly.

“You would steal from me?” Thorin spoke lowly, sending shivers down your spine. “Steal from you? No, no. I may be a burglar, but I like to think I’m an honest one.” Thorin started to approach him, causing more anxiety and pressure to build up inside of you. “I’m willing to let it stand against my claim.”

“Your claim? You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!” Before Thorin could get a hold of Bilbo, you stopped him abruptly, standing in front of the frightened hobbit.

“Thorin, stop. It’s my fault, too.” He still had a hateful look on his face, but his eyes softened as he realized it was you, his One. He processed the words you had just spoke, and furrowed his brows together.

“What are you talking about?”

“Bilbo came to me and told me about the Arkenstone.. I knew he had it since we reclaimed the mountain..”  The tension in the air was high, and it was silent, besides the heavy breathing and the thumping in your chest.

“You..? Out of all people, why you?” He asked, seemingly hurt.

“Can’t you see, Thorin? You’ve become someone else. Ever since we had come to Erebor, all you’ve been talking about was the Arkenstone! Even daring to doubt the loyalty of your own fucking kin! As much as you hate to admit it, you have become your grandfather!” He took a step forward, staring you down like a lion would stalk its prey. But you stood your ground. You knew Thorin would never dare harm you.  “Thorin, we only want what’s best for you.. The stone has turned you into a monster. The dwarf that I met and loved in Rivendell would never dare to doubt his family, nor his friend,” you whispered, tears falling from your eyes. You searched his, looking for any sense of love or remorse. There was nothing in his deep blue eyes. It was empty, only full with greed. Within a second, you were held over the wall by your neck and collar, choking as Thorin’s grip got tighter. 

“Thorin, no!” The Company protested, attempting to stop Thorin. But he shoved them back, keeping you in his grasp. 

“Do not speak to me of love and loyalty, you traitor,” he spat, face twisting up in anger. It was at that moment that you knew Thorin was long gone. He was lost to the sickness, and you were devoid of any solutions to bring him back. You started to feel your chest tighten, and your head grow light. You gave up your struggle, and let yourself die by the hands of your lover. 

“If you do not like my daughter, hand her back to me!” A voice suddenly rang out. You realized it was the voice of your father, who you have not heard from since departing from Rivendell. “You are not making such a splendid figure as King Under the Mountain, are you, Thorin Oakenshield?”  At that, you were carelessly tossed aside back on the wall, gasping for air.  Fili & Kili helped you up, while Bofur assisted Bilbo down the wall.

“I am so sorry,” you cried to them. They simply shushed you by giving you a tight hug.

“Go, now. Save yourself,” Kili said. 

“May we meet again, someday, somehow,” you say last, before following Bilbo down the rope. Once you reached the bottom, you took one more glance at the king, your former love, before hurrying to Dale.

***

Thorin’s POV

I walked into the room where The Company was gathered, upset expressions on their faces. Soon as Kili noticed my presence, he stood up to approach me. “I will not hide behind walls of stone, while others fight our battle for us!” He vented, “It is not in my blood, Thorin.”

“No,” I said calmly. “It is not. We are Sons of Durin. And Durin’s Folk do not flee from a fight.” We hold each other in a short embrace, before I turn to the rest of The Company, who watched with anticipation. “I have no right to ask this of any of you, but will you follow me, one last time?” They all stood up and gripped their weapons, nodding their heads. I scan the room, looking for any signs of Y/N.

“Where is she?” I ask, “Where is my One? Where is Y/N?” Fili looks at the ground with a saddened face before answering. “She left with Bilbo over the wall. Must have fled to Dale or left completely.”

What have I done?

*** You took a seat by the steps of a ruined house, completely spaced out, trying to process what just took place. You had reclaimed Erebor, but for what? To lose your friends. More importantly, the one you were going to wed. But what were you thinking? An elf and a dwarf would never work. They had a big history of being hateful towards one another, and neither families would approve of such marriage, You knew Thorin would be taken by the sickness, but tried to shut out the fact and live an unrealistic fantasy. Because all good things come to an end. Right?

Hours passed since the battle started. Elves, dwarves, men, orcs. You didn’t fight, though. You stayed seated by the abandoned house, ignoring the death and screams around you. As much as you wanted to go back to rejoin The Company, Thorin would probably kill you. He already tried to. Your only love. Because of a stupid stone.

“Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Bilbo called, snapping you out of your daze. You look up at the little hobbit who was running towards you. “Thorin, Kili, Fili, and Dwalin are going to Ravenhill! It’s a trap! We have to warn them!”

You wanted to say “why”? and “let them die”, but as much as you were pained and angry, you knew you couldn’t live with yourself, knowing you left your friends to their death.

“Let’s go.”

You & Bilbo made it to Ravenhill, successfully keeping out of sight from any enemies. But when you made it to the top, it was empty. No dwarves in sight, nor any orcs. You frantically searched the area for any signs of them. When at last, you found all four of them.

“Wait!” Bilbo shouted, instantly making their heads dart your direction. When Thorin’s eyes found yours, he practically ran over to you. “Y/N, I--” You collided the back of your hand with his face, stopping him from finishing his sentence. But shortly after, before he could react, you pulled him into a passionate kiss, as if to say sorry. “Okay, I might have deserved that,” he admitted, pulling away. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I did not see.”

“I love you, Thorin. And I will fight by your side, no matter the circumstance.”

Bilbo awkwardly coughed. “Okay, lovebirds. I hate to break up the cute reuniting kissy moment, but Azog has another army attacking from the north! This watch tower will be surrounded!”

AHHH I was in a rush making this and wasn’t sure if I should continue or just end it here. LMK! 

#thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin the dwarf #thorin imagine #king thorin #thorin oneshot #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit angst #thorin angst

[blankdblank]

Ridikulus Pt 31

With Regulus claiming the week for Em’s care in a sort of acclimation period for him and Lindir to see how their jobs would handle a child between them you were more than able to catch up on some sleep. Free periods at school before lunch you spent in your office focusing on the supplements you were sending off to Rohan to help with the condition so many seemed to suffer from including their Queen. Between shipments your eager owl carried off in enchanted pouches for each afflicted your eyes kept turning to the potion nearly ready for Thorin’s change.

Humming to yourself you were off to stop in at Erebor. Using the door attaching the mountain to Dale you entered and were on the verge of skipping lost in the tune mid snack on a chocolate orange resting in your palm. Weaving through the curious Dwarves you caught sight of Ori who grinned and hurried over halting momentarily from his path to state, “Thorin is in the meeting room just off the Throne Room.”

“Thank you,” you said offering him a slice he grinned in taking and hurried off with a soft thanks of his own while you turned towards the Throne Room. Peering all around at the marvel of a hall you crossed the rail-less bridge following the echoes of low voices to another walkway, at the end of which the guards outside the door opened them and your lips parted. “Oh, you-..”

Peering inside with a tinge of yellow at your roots you eyed the table with Thengel, the Durin men who all glanced up at you catching your brief wave when Thorin stated, “Miss Black, this is a surprise. Is anything wrong?”

Shaking your head you stepped inside stating, “No, um, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Thorin shook his head, “Not at all. You are always welcome here.”

“Well, I won’t take long, just wanted to say your potion should be ready tomorrow. Around six after classes should do it if that’s good for you?”

His lips parted in a relieved chuckle, “That, would be perfect. Thank you again.”

You shook your head, “Not a problem at all.”

Thengel smirked asking, “Queen Jaqi is assisting you with potions as well? Surely I’d have lost my Queen and our little ones had she not offered us aid.”

Thorin chuckled again unable to keep from grinning, “The potion is to turn me into a Dam so I may carry heirs of my own.”

Thengel’s lips parted, “You are forgoing your throne?”

Dain answered for Thorin, “Our kin would never abandon him in his path to having bairns of his own.”

Thengel grinned at you stating, “Impressive feat discovering such a potion.” He turned his eyes back to Thorin, “Whenever you find the change successful we would be grateful to show our respects to your future heirs.”

Thorin nodded and looked to you, “I do hope this will not interfere with the planning for your celebration, if it would interfere-,”

You shook your head, “Thranduil is the one who settled on throwing the celebration all on his own and insists he has it all covered. This will not interfere with anything, just prepare yourself, it will be quite painful.”

Thorin rumbled back, “A tolerable pain for bairns. I will manage.”

You nodded and said, “I’ll leave you to it, I’ve been charged with taking Tuo out and then told to nap again,” When you looked to Thengel you said, “I hope your people take to the medicine quickly and find some relief.”

Thengel chuckled, “It has aided us greatly already. We thank you heartily and cannot wait to see our gift outshine that of Gondor’s.”

“I haven’t met anyone from Gondor yet,” making his brow arch up, “Tonks mentioned traveling there and Thranduil said something about a coat they might make me.”

Thengel, “Nothing compared to our gift.”

Making you smirk and say, “Well, if their men are as troublesome as Tonks described I may end up returning their gift for a few black eyes.” You nodded your head in his loud laugh echoed by his Men around him including his cousin Halmar greatly relieved taking your momentary grin his way as a sign you were off on a better footing from the first meeting when you had punched him. “Don’t go warning them. I want them honest.” Out again you strolled allowing the now antsy Dwarves just bursting to explode the news all through the mountain to conclude the meeting with the Dwarves to lay the groundwork for a rebirth of their former trade agreements by establishing a friendship and trust.

Back in the heart of the Throne Room you zapped back to the archway in Pumpernickel you used to head straight for Northern Greenwood. Ginny was on a late lunch with Haldir to hear about his day. While Taule claimed another evening with the boys, and Legolas through your duo focusing on your party plans leaving you to go and find Tuo. A long ride found you next eating as filling a dinner as you could muster before heading off to bed early hoping to have some time to get up early to prep some things for the big change the following day.

.

Giggles however woke you in the crawling of the silvery white curly haired twins crossing from the foot of your bed to your side with Estel behind you already leaned over your shoulder. His wavy brown hair pooling into your face in a peck on your cheek, “We picked berries, Naneth.”

Inhaling deeply your arms circled the trio you kissed the heads on and hummed out, “Berries are nice.” Behind them Legolas came into the doorway and you flashed him a sleepy grin, “Leg, did you pick berries too?” Over his shoulder you saw Thranduil and Glorfindel.

Legolas replied, “I just returned from my rounds and they were gone.”

Glancing at Estel you sighed out, “They are very tall you know,” he nodded, “I do hope you remember what it felt like to be this small when you reach their size.”

Elurin giggled saying, “We will.”

His brother nodded and you combed your fingers through his hair removing a brewing knot there, “We didn’t mean to scare them.”

You shook your head, “They’re still used to only having one little one around. It’ll calm down, they’ll adjust.” Up you slid and sat up in Estel’s path to Legolas who picked him up.

Glorfindel came closer to grab the twins asking, “Did you sleep well?”

You nodded brushing your hair out of your face changing its shade from a burnt orange to silvery blue again, “Have to check on my rainbow spear viper though, I think she laid her eggs.” Curling your legs up your shorts were revealed under your baggy quidditch jersey from your father’s school days.

When your doorway popped up Thranduil asked, “Is that a bad thing?”

Turning around still walking backwards you replied, “No, just have to make sure she’s got enough coal or she likes to spark up and that agitates the Lemurtelba in the habitat next to hers.” Smirking at the men you nodded your head to the side, “Come and see. They love to brag on their nests.”

Elured, “Are they birds?”

“No, snakes.” In his momentary flinch of fear in his eyes you stopped and moved closer to him stroking his cheek with a curled finger, “Snakes are not evil creatures, they speak a different language and are afraid of those who can’t understand them. All they have is their teeth and their bodies. I’ll show you if you like when you’re older, they are friendly and docile when treated with respect, like horses or Tuo and his herd. Their venom could kill or cure, if you know how to use them. My snakes won’t hurt you. They wouldn’t dare.” He nodded and you turned to show them through the Chamber of Secrets snake room parting their lips at the various habitats holding your snakes who all peered out at you hissing greetings to the children you translated for them.

A large pitch black habitat revealed to be a cave with a stepping stone path across a dark river was what the group stared into watching you reach the tree on the other side with a silver slithering snake that parted their lips. The head nearly two feet around on a body that filled the tree seemingly holding this cave up with its endless woven branches looked you over and melted into your palms as you greeted her. At the roots of the tree you pulled back a pile of black leaves revealing golden eggs lighting up you and the tree in your counting the eggs she had laid. Covering the eggs again you summoned a basket of mangoes for her accepting her thanks in her move to eat while you trotted across the river again.

Legolas asked, “How large was she when you found her?”

“Few feet shorter. Found her on one of the last missions I had before landing here. Some idiot from R thought they could use her venom as a weapon.”

Thranduil, “Is that not possible?”

“They are constrictors.” His brow inched up, “There are snakes that poison their prey and those that squeeze them with their bodies. She feeds on mountain goats twice a year and mangoes the rest of it.”

Glorfindel, “Snakes eat fruit?”

You nodded, “A great many things varying with each breed. The meat is for her clutches of eggs, the mangoes help her grow and helps her coat shimmer.”

Estel asked about while pointing at the rainbow colored snake slithering out of its habitat towards you that rose to rest on your shoulders to allow you to show the boys, “This is Dilby, he loves to meet people.” Moving closer you allowed them to reach out and stroke his sides making his coat shift colors stirring giggles from them that triggered his webbed ridges down his back rise. “Only thing you have to worry about with this guy is when he gets cranky in their mating season, they like to bite. Non venomous, but,” he opened his jaws at the stroke of your finger under his head parting their lips seeing the five rows of teeth and four large fold out fangs that extended dripping with blue droplets. “It is not comfortable, but their venom helps re-grow bones. Used it plenty of times myself.”

Glorfindel, “What reason would there possibly be to need to re-grow a bone?”

“You can only break a bone so many times. If it’s bad enough of a break it’s healthier to vanish the bone and grow another.”

Estel, “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, and the potion tastes, well, let’s hope you won’t need it. Certainly not pumpkin juice.” Making them giggle as he slithered down to head for the open pantry for a snack, “Don’t mind him, just off to find a cantaloupe.”

Thranduil, “Does Tulip eat melons?”

“She prefers vegetables. Can go through a whole cart of cabbages a week if you let her.”

Elured, “Who is Tulip?”

You smirked guiding them into her chamber saying, “That is my ancestor’s head,” answering their unspoken question of whose head they next saw Tulip slithering out of the mouth of.

Estel gasped, “I’ve seen her.”

“Yes you have, she is a Basilisk.” The boys awed at her large fangs nearly the size of their bodies and stole strokes on her scales. In her path out to head out to the gardens outside your home you walked into your office to peek in at the simmering cauldron, the boys stayed to inspect more while Glorfindel and Thranduil came up behind you curious what you were doing.

Wetting their lips they eyed your fingers trailing along an open page on a manual beside the small cauldron in the center of a counter Glorfindel peered into beside Thranduil as he asked, “Is that, fur?”

You nodded, “Yes, a lovely shade of puce, should be done in a couple hours now.”

Thranduil, “This is Thorin’s potion?”

“Yup.” A glance at the clock had their eyes follow yours.

Glorfindel, “We should feed you.”

“That would be lovely.” He smirked and leaned in claiming a kiss and turned to gather the twins while Thranduil’s arm circled your back and you leaned into his chest accepting his kiss.

Thranduil, “You did sleep well?”

You nodded, “Feeling better.”

Lowly he asked, “When is the change?”

“Told them six.”

He nodded, “I will clear my meetings for later.”

“You-,”

He shook his head leaning in to claim a second kiss, humming against your lips, “This is an incredible gift, we will be there to witness it, because you do understand our people would wish to use it as well. It would be easier to explain the process to possible couples.”

“It’s painful, not much of a process.” You said leading the way to join the others off to the breakfast prepared with the jam from the berries the boys had picked for you through the night.

.

Soft clicks and dings sounded in your typing up the copy of your practice OWL and NEWT exams while your students sat going through their monthly exams. You weren’t known for pulling punches, it was a more hands on and entertaining process for your students but the sheer volume of what you covered gave each of them ample topics and history in each lesson for them to fully absorb each. Countless extra tidbits were added to keep things interesting and fill in all the gaps in what the main textbooks covered.

200 pages would be witted down later to edit but sat in the box you had locked it into before the final class before your lunch. Back down in the Chamber you checked on the potion and turned to the selection of books you had pulled together listed for the usual pack given to patients. With Hedwig came a note from Hermione confirming the six o’clock meeting time with a warning that you would have an audience making you groan. “Of course..”

The rest of your classes also had tests leaving your classroom mostly silent, while you readied some more pregnancy supplements for Mrs Granger drawing the eyes of the class when the liquid turned to gel and each scoop you settled on the tray hardening into circles you added to a jar. When all the tests were completed you had finished filling a second jar and a girl asked, “Medicine for your store?”

“No, prenatal supplements. A few relatives are expecting.” A few moments later the clock chimed another hour and you said, “Alright, off to freedom.” Off they did go and turning to your desk you tied a bow around the top of the jar you slipped into a pouch you passed to your owl that flew off hearing who he was flying off to.

It was all planned a brief snack before the trip to Erebor, in the main garden where you found your cushioned stool open between Fred and George who raised their glasses, “Heard from Hermi, we’ve got an audience.”

Chuckling to yourself you took a sip of your tea and looked to Legolas in his asking, “Would an audience not aid in the process?”

Grinning at him you said, “Not much of a process. Just painful. Most don’t want one.”

Beside you Fred spoke as you eyed the trio of boys greeting you in their climb onto their seats claiming their helpings of the snacks, the puzzling gaze wondering how much of their lives they remembered past the burned in day they lost it all including their lives. “Usually it’s just the couple and the one administering the potion.”

George, “Some times the one taking it prefers to be alone with the one administering the potion. All personal preference really.”

A pulsing crystal appeared in front of you as you and the boys were snacking on more of the fruit slices you mumbled, “Mmm, Thorin.”

Glorfindel chuckled as Taule stated, “You go, I will watch the Princes.”

You nodded once on your feet, strolling around the table and crouched down kissing their stuffed cheeks that rose in creeping grins, then you rose and turned to lead your group through your doorway after sending the crystal to Hermione.

Around you the Chamber of Secrets grew and you led the pair back to your office where you collected a small stack of books and levitated the cauldron with the bright pink fur over the top waving as the mixture gurgled underneath. Along the way to the now changed doorway Fred collected a pack of tools from the desk and made for the door that closed and opened revealing the rushing Durins flooding into Thorin and Bilbo’s apartment.

Smiles grew on their faces as they all peered into the odd mixture in the cauldron in your path into Thorin’s bedroom. Anxiously Thorin was rubbing his palms together then met your eyes as you said, “You’ll want to remove your belt and boots if possible.”

He nodded and followed your suggestion as Fred and George popped up into their view helping to unroll the set of tools while you set the books on the table beside Thorin’s bed. Dis eyed the books asking, “You require manuals for this”

You shook your head, “No. These are for Thorin.” Your eyes locked with his, “One for basic anatomy, tips on proper hygiene and the final one is mainly for reproduction and sexual responses.”

Thorin timidly repeated, “Sexual, responses?”

You grinned at him claiming the first tool, a hook with a slotted spoon in your other hand. You peeled the top layer of fur back Fred eased with another hook into a jar then capped it before it started giving off a pink gas leaving the fur melting into a layer of shimmering slime as you raised an avocado looking ball and swapped the hook for a scalpel George handed you to slice around the middle of it. “Our anatomies are vastly different. I am not certain if you have manuals on sexual responses in your culture or if yours match ours, but if they do then that book would help you get better acquainted with your new body and its responses.” He wet his lips, “You being intimate with Bilbo in this body will be vastly different as a Dam, the way we feel things the way or bodies respond are different. Even when you’re alone, self pleasure is a bit different than your current grip and tug situation.”

A blush grew on his cheeks and Dis opened the final manual, “Thank you. It was getting a bit difficult to explain that subject to them.”

“Oh, I will warn you, they are Wizard books, so the illustrations might move.” As you said that Dis gasped at one of them and closed the book tilting it out of Fili and Kili’s sight. “I assure you it is all scientific, not lewd.” Her eyes moved to the cup George slid the top half of the kiwi appearing assumed fruit giving off a scent of pears into a small bowl as you took a small spoon to scoop out the apparent skinless grape then offered it to Thorin, “This will taste bitter, try to chew it ten times then swallow.”

He nodded following the order only to pucker almost instantly at the taste, chewing painfully slowly he got to ten then swallowed watching as you held out the lower half to add to the bowl from George that shifted to a liquid as well you offered to him, “Swish it around in your mouth then swallow.” He nodded and drew in a deep breath and raised the bowl to his lips and clamped his eyes shut emptying the bowl to begrudgingly swish the mixture around then swallow it in as large gulps as he could manage.

Wetting your lips you set the bowl in George’s palm then led Thorin to bed where you sat down and acted as his pillow folding your arms across his chest saying softly, “Just remember, deep breaths as often as you can manage and squeeze my hands and arms as hard as you need to.”

Around you Fred and George summoned the chairs from the other room to set on either side of the bed simply stating, “You’ll need them.”

Everyone settled into them as Bilbo sat beside the bed in the closest ones while Thorin mumbled, “My skin is tingling.”

You nodded, “That’s the first sign it’s working properly.”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a deep breath as he felt his chest tightening only to have his eyes shoot open with a groan at the loud crack of his breastbone cracking that made Bilbo flinch while the others couldn’t help but glance away. Instantly his hands gripped your forearms tightly as the cracks spread over his shoulders visibly contorting them under his shirt as you mentally whispered, “Muffliato,” silencing his pained sounds from the group with only the Twins, Thranduil and Glorfindel looking on still bearing pained expressions.

Each bone seemed to be breaking while his muscles tore then melded back together into their new shapes as Fred eyed Dain at his asking, “Does she feel that much pain when she shifts?”

Fred shook his head, “No. Morpher’s bones, well they shift to a near jelly and then harden into their new shapes.”

George, “For the rest of us there are a few options, all temporary but no less painful. The bones have to be broken, muscles reformed into the new shapes.” His hand settled on Bilbo’s shoulder to crouch down beside him peering up at you softly whispering to Thorin, “It only lasts a couple minutes. Well worth it.”

Bilbo’s teary eyes fell on his, “I, can’t-..”

George grinned at him patting his hands wringing on his lap, “Honestly first time Fred and I made a polyjuice potion we took it in turns. I nearly passed out seeing him shift and he threw up seeing me change. But we got used to it after the fifth time or so.” Bilbo sniffled as he smiled saying, “It hurts watching our loved ones in pain. Even more so when it could easily have been avoided.”

Fred joined him adding his hand to theirs, “You are going to have a baby. Possibly dozens. Trust me, this pain will fade the moment it’s confirmed he’s expecting.”

They turned again to see Thorin breathing steadily in your arms far more relaxed as the shift ended, and you whispered, “Another deep breath.” He inhaled, “Through the worst of it now.”

His hands released your arms now bearing red patches freeing you to ease them over his shoulders in testing squeezes down his arms while Thorin inspected his hands seeming a bit less meaty. Lowering your cone of silence you shifted out from behind him freeing Bilbo to sit behind him to cuddle with and kiss him and you to move between Thorin’s legs you raised up one at a time inspecting each of his joints noting his sturdier hips, knees and ankles. In a peek under the neck of his shirt he grinned then peered up at you as you felt the realignment of his hips bringing his attention to the shift below his waist, “Hmm.”

You giggled grinning up at him, “It’ll feel different for a while.” He nodded, “I think we’ll give you a week to relax to it before we start on the fertility potions, if you still want them.”

He nodded, “Yes.”

You wet your lips accepting his hands to test his movement in those as well, “Oh, I wanted to tell you. Those potions with our people do tend to drastically cut pregnancies down.”

His brow rose, “I don’t understand.”

“We normally carry nine months but with the potions the longest we’ve had was five months.”

Thorin let out a stunned breath as Bilbo said, “Well Dwarves are pregnant for up to four years, so if it cuts it in half then we’ll still have two years to prep.”

“I just wanted you to know. We aren’t certain with our own people so we prep quickly, usually before taking the potion, and with the differences in our races it would be best to do the same possibly.”

Thorin nodded then grinned again claiming your hand, “I can never thank you enough. We, never can. First our home, now this.” Wetting his lips he shifted his legs to the end of the bed where Dis, Diaa and Niro grinned nearing him claiming hugs stealing a feel of his hidden figure.

Diaa, “Now, we have to get you into better fitting clothes to show off the shift.” Thorin nodded then turned to claim a kiss from Bilbo then turned excitedly to redress with the females of his line in his closet as Thranduil chuckled offering Bilbo a wrapped packet matching the one Glorfindel handed him, bringing a curious grin to his face accepting and opening it.

Thranduil, “It is tradition with our people to give seeds in hopes of a fruitful union.”

Bilbo’s grin grew and he nodded his head eyeing the paintings of the flowers on each of the inner packets holding rare flowers, “Thank you. Our kin share that tradition.”

A few moments later as you sent your cauldron back to your office and within a few minutes all turned to see Thorin proudly exiting his closet. Fully crowned in better fitting pants and a deep blue golden edged shirt under a hugging vest with a sash around his waist accentuating his pronounced bust and wider hips then added his boots again offering his hand to Bilbo. “My Love, now we show off the results.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but grin at the seeming glistening dark hair and beard on his Love’s face that seemed a bit more slender but not that much changed. He hopped up accepting help into his fur vest from Frerin then folded his hand in Thorin’s as you eased off their bed to Thranduil and Glorfindel’s sides where they eyed the bruises starting to form on your arms in your walk after the Durins.

Atop an overlooking balcony you watched the Durins pass through the crowding Dwarves with an easy smile at the excited compliments on his successful change between eager glances up at you from couples wishing for the same aid. Blindly Fred opened the cylinder he pulled from his pocket he held in front of you, with two fingers you claimed a swipe and smoothed it over the bruises before he pocketed it again then joined George in popping off to check in on Dudley on the end his first shift with Ginny.

Glorfindel muttered, “That was-,”

“Painful. But he is going to have some very handsome babies.”

Thranduil grinned asking, “Durins have always been fruitful, that is not an unfair assumption.”

“Not an assumption.” The pair glanced at you and you said, “I can feel it, people’s family trees sort of, I can feel them expanding. He’ll be quick to carry, even without the fertility potions.”

Glorfindel, “That is good to hear your gift is quite extraordinary.”

“It has its moments.”

Thranduil’s hand smoothed across your back, “Come, back to the food then we can have our Healers ready a session for you. Your arms must be in pain with those bruises.”

Pt 32

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Glorfindel x Reader OC #HP Crossover #Bilbo x Thorin #Gender Potion

[arofili]

Worldbuilding Exchange Letter 2021

Hello lovely creator, thanks for creating for me in the Worldbuilding Exchange! I’m very excited and grateful for whatever you create for me <3

This letter will restate my DNWs, list my likes, give you a brief rundown of my canon preferences, and then dive into specific prompts for each of my requests.

I’ll warn you upfront that I tend to ramble, so feel free to skip prompts that don’t interest you and/or use ctrl+F to search for whatever it is you want to write for.

My requests are divided by fandom, and in the case of the Silm + Middle-earth Legendarium, by topic too, so hopefully that will be helpful for you! Also, my TAZ request is waaay down at the bottom, so if that’s what you’re here for, just go to the bottom of the page.

Housekeeping:

DNWs:

Non-con

Unrequested dub-con

Abusive/Neglectful parenting (especially wrt Fëanor)

Sibling incest, parent-child incest (cousin pairings are fine)

Unhappy/Unhopeful endings (unless otherwise specified)

Jealousy/Possessiveness

Cheating

Character or ship bashing

Hanahaki/any scenario where unrequited love is physically damaging

Soulmates, especially soulmate AUs (soul bonds are OK, if there is choice involved)

Porn without plot (Porn with plot is fine!)

Food involved in sex

Unrequested Modern AU

Non-trans mpreg

If you’re writing a slash ship where the characters are/were married to/involved with someone outside the ship, please don’t have the character(s) hate their spouse or not have been actually in love with them (the one exception is Finrod; I’m fine with him and Amarië not having been actually in love, but please don’t do this for anyone else, especially not Fëanor)

Hobbit/LOTR-specific DNWs:

The concept of a dwarven “One”

Any Fíli pairing

Alfrid

Legolas or Gimli paired with anyone other than each other

no smut for these fandoms, please

Silm-specific DNWs:

Evil/irredeemable/incel Maeglin

Elwing bashing

Fëanorian bashing

Over the top Fëanorian apologism (they did bad stuff; it was at least partially their fault. you don’t have to address that, necessarily, but don’t rewrite the story to claim they were blameless)

Fingon with a wife

Fingon or Maedhros ships that don’t take Russingon into account (polyamory, an open relationship, Mae with someone after Finno dies or vice versa for an AU, them with other people while they’re separated on the Ice/in Angband - all of these scenarios are fine, but in the end I need them to be with each other first and foremost)

Dark!Maedhros

Elvish re-embodiment after death being an actual, literal rebirth that requires the characters to have a second childhood; I much prefer them being granted a new hröa in their prime (feel free to explore what “in their prime” means, though, especially wrt scarred and disabled elves)

~~~

Likes:

(these might not all apply to worldbuilding, but they might give you a place to start from!)

Gen fic

Found family

Family dynamics

Loving families, even when things get complicated

Friendship, intense/important platonic relationships

Relationships that defy categorization

Queerplatonic relationships

Polyamory

Queer headcanons (especially aromantic-spectrum headcanons)

Trans/nonbinary headcanons (genderbending is also fine, but I prefer trans/nb hcs)

Angst with a happy ending

Gray morality

Explorations of magic

Most tropes

Fanon and fandom tropes

Deconstruction/Inversion of fanon and fandom tropes

Interspecies relationships

Peredhil

Secret relationships

Secret relationships coming to light

Secret kids (especially secret peredhil!)

Giving ships OC kids

OCs interacting with canon characters

Confessions of love

First times

Hurt/comfort

Redemption, forgiveness, mercy

Ironic foreshadowing

Canon divergence AUs/X Lives AUs

Politics and scheming

Resolving conflicting canonical details

Historical/Narrative bias affecting what is and isn’t “canon” (to an extent; changing motivations, consequences, etc is great, but please don’t ignore canon entirely)

Elrond & Elros having complicated relationships with both their bio and adoptive parents

Names fitting the time period (Quenya names in Valinor, please; if this is difficult for you, that’s okay, no pressure, but I do strongly prefer it)

Names having a lot of thought put behind them (does the character go back to their original Quenya name upon rebirth? or do they keep their Sindarin name? or come up with something else entirely? do they hate their new Sindarin name and resent having to use it, or do they embrace it? As long as you put some thought into it, I’m sure I’ll like whatever you decide!)

Author’s notes where you explain your thought process, if you want; I love hearing how the story took shape!

~~~

Preferences re: Canon:

LaCE compliance is always completely optional (except if you’re choosing a prompt that is specifically about LaCE, lol). If you do want to include it, that’s great, but if you just want the characters to fuck without having that be an issue, go for it. I love explorations of LaCE that take into account the exceptions, boundaries, definitions, etc; I also love takes that emphasize that they are Laws and Customs, not biological imperatives.

I’m not picky about my Amrod deaths. He can die at either Losgar or Sirion (or, hell, some other time/place if you make it interesting enough!), whatever works best for the story. I do like Lightly Toasted Amrod, aka he almost burns to death at Losgar but survives/gets rescued at the last minute.

Gil-galad theories are all very fun. Please don’t make him the son of Fingon and a wife; if he’s Fingon’s son, I want Maedhros to be involved at least a little bit (adoption or trans mpreg are both fine in this scenario). Otherwise, I don’t have a particular preference, though if it’s not really relevant I usually default to the son of Orodreth (who is in turn the son of Angrod). Also, I’ve requested “Origins of Gil-galad”; there’s more information on him in that section.

Honestly, when it comes to theories and headcanons, my rule of thumb is “convince me”! I’m down for whatever, for the most part, as long as you can justify it :)

~~~

For all of these, “suggested characters” pulls from the list of characters I requested with that signup, but if you’ve got an idea involving other characters then go for it! And in the end, all characters are just suggestions, this exchange is more about the worldbuilding :)

~~~

The Hobbit (Book)

Adventuring Hobbits Before Bilbo: Who were they? Did they ever come back, or was Bilbo assumed dead because of precedent? Were they all Tooks, or did some other hobbits tag along on adventures, too? Suggested Character(s): Belladonna Took

Dragon Magic & Dragon-hunting: Talk to me about dragons! I’m interested in dragons & dwarves, especially in relation to the first time dwarves were driven from Erebor and into the North and the War of the Dwarves and Dragons. What kinds of dragons set their sights on the mountain? How old was Smaug when all that was happening; did he learn anything from the failures of his kin? Who were the dragon-hunting dwarves who fought in that war? Suggested Character(s): Smaug, Original Dwarf Character

Dwarven Craft and Magic: Enchanted weapons, enchanted armor, runes and spells...all so interesting! Borrowing from the movies a bit, did Kíli’s runestone from Dís have any magic power? What’s the deal with the Arkenstone’s thrall? How do elf and dwarf magics intersect when it comes to objects like Bilbo’s mithril coat? Suggested Character(s): Dís, Frerin, Thorin, Original Dwarf Character (perhaps a craftsdwarf?)

Dwarves and Gender: We need more dwarf women! And I’d love any takes on nonbinary dwarves and/or dwarf-specific genders. Were there female dwarves in the Company that Bilbo mistook for male dwarves? Are dwarven women really only a third of the population? If dwarf men and women are very similar in appearance, how do they differentiate between them, or do they differentiate at all? If you included something about dwarvish braiding styles indicating gender, class, marital status, I would be delighted. Suggested Character(s): Dís, Frerin, Thorin, Original Dwarf Character; in this case I’d prefer a focus on canon characters, but OCs interacting with them would be marvelous, especially people like Dís’ spouse.

The Black Arrow: Bard’s little pep talk to his arrow has always intrigued me. I’d love to see your take on the origins of the Black Arrow. Does it really come from Erebor, and if so, who made it? How did Bard and his forefathers come to acquire it? (I like the movie version that ties it into Girion’s attempt to kill Smaug, so feel free to incorporate that if you feel like it.) Is the arrow enchanted? (Perhaps that could be tied to the Dwarven Craft and Magic tag!) Suggested Character(s): Bard, Original Character from Dale, Original Dwarf Character

The Stone Giants & Were-worms: I don’t have many thoughts on these guys except “neat! tell me more!” I’m fascinated by the creatures Tolkien only gives us a passing mention of; if you feel like it, maybe you could combine these tags with some of the creatures in the LOTR tagset (crebain, cold drakes, Watcher in the Water, Mearas, Kine of Araw, etc...I didn’t sign up with all those tags, but it would be neat to hear about them anyway!)

~~~

The Lord of the Rings (Books)

Cold-drakes and Fire-drakes & Crebain & The Watcher in the Water: Like with the Stone Giants and the Were-worms, I just think they’re neat and I’d love to hear your take on their origins and how they affect the history of Middle-earth. Feel free to combine this with other creature-related requests. Suggested Character(s): Scatha

Ghosts and Hauntings: Barrow-wights? Nazgûl victims? Just your crotchety old hobbit neighbor who still holds a grudge about losing the biggest pumpkin contest despite having been dead for 20 years? There’s a lot of potential for stories here; maybe you could combine a ghost story with some other prompt to add a murder mystery or haunting plot to a relationship you’re exploring!

Dwarf-Elf Relations: I don’t believe All Dwarves and All Elves hated each other! We have famous elf-dwarf friendships across the ages, and really it was just the Sindar vs. the Broadbeams/Firebeards that had the feud. Still, Legolas (a Sinda) and Gimli (raised among Broadbeams and Firebeards in the Blue Mountains) are caught up in that, so their friendship is quite remarkable! I’d love interrogations of how that feud continued across centuries and discussions of what really went down in Menegroth, perhaps with one of the Durins having an elf friend at some point in the past that sheds light on how Legolas and Gimli can get along. (I am here for any and all Gimli and Legolas combinations; I love them as friends, I love them as boyfriends or husbands, I love them as queerplatonic partners, I love them as anything in between! Do whatever you’d like with them!) Suggested Character(s): Gimli, Legolas, Original Elf Character, Any of Durins 1-7

Elvish and Mannish settlements in post-Ring War Ithilien: How do Legolas and Faramir get along, both living in Ithilien after the war? What do Legolas’ people think about being neighbors with a bunch of Men? Faramir and Imrahil were Aragorn’s chief commanders after the war, and Legolas expressed admiration for Imrahil; I imagine Imrahil visited his nephew in Ithilien, so what are the interactions of those three like? I’d love to see an exploration of Silvan elves and their culture here, with Legolas leaning into his Silvan heritage and maybe some Silvan OCs who have spent their whole lives in Mirkwood up until now and have never met Men before now! Suggested Character(s): Faramir, Legolas, Imrahil, Original Elf Character

Relations between the Dúnedain and Rivendell: Talk to me about the Grey Company, or Elladan and Elrohir fighting alongside their distant kin, or Rangers taking breaks in Imladris, how the Rangers think of Aragorn who was raised among elves, etc. I’d love an outsider POV here, such as an OC observing the oddities of a canon character. Suggested Character(s): Original Elf Character, Original Ranger of the North

The Glittering Caves of Aglarond: More Gimli and Legolas stuff - but with a focus on Gimli this time :) Gimli as a lord in his own right, Gimli who takes elves on tours of his dwarf-kingdom and weirds out his people (is it just Legolas, or does he take any Silvan elves with him, or like...his elvish in-laws??), Gimli as a craftsman... Or, alternatively, you could explore the caves before Gimli gets to work on them, what the Rohirrim thought of them and how they were created - by natural processes, or by magic, or a mixture of both? Did Aulë make them for the dwarves to find, perhaps? Suggested Character(s): Gimli, Legolas

~~~

The Hobbit (Movies)

Dragonsickness/Goldsickness: The parallel to mental illness in the movies was really interesting. I’d love to see lingering effects of the goldsickness on Thorin after the Battle (Everyone Lives AU, probably), or an AU where Fíli or Kíli inherit the throne of Erebor and are afflicted by it as well. Or, sticking to canon, how did Fíli and Kíli and the rest of the Company deal with Thorin falling into madness? Were the other dwarves affected by the thrall of the gold? Bard and Thranduil were observers of Thorin’s madness; what did they think of him? Did Thranduil remember Thrór under dragonsickness? Or, since movie!Thranduil is a far cry from book!Thranduil when it comes to going to war over jewels, was he affected by the dragonsickness even from a distance? Was Bard? Suggested Character(s): Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bard the Bowman, Thranduil

Dwarves who "choose craft"/Aromantic-Spectrum and Asexual-Spectrum Dwarves: This is pulling more from the books than the movies, but I didn’t have enough nomination slots to include any book nominations, so it went here, lol. Anyway: as I’m sure you can tell from my tumblr url, I headcanon Fíli as aromantic, and I love seeing that in fanworks! It’s really wonderful that Tolkien mentioned that many dwarves choose their craft over marriage, and I’d love to see an exploration of that aspect of dwarvish culture, and how Fíli fits into it. It seems to be fairly common/accepted, but are there different cultural pressures around marriage for the crown prince? How does Fíli figure out he’s aromantic? If aro and ace dwarves are expected to be choosing a craft over romance and sex, what’s Fíli’s craft? Or does he not have one, and people judge him for that? The “choose craft” language I use is very much inspired by this post and the Neo-Khuzdul word “bijebtorva” :) Suggested Character(s): Fíli, Original Character(s)

Governance and Politics in Mirkwood: How did Thranduil and Oropher come to power in the Greenwood? I hate the “lowly Silvan elf” line from the movie; can you somehow justify that with worldbuilding, or show how it’s not accurate? Is Legolas half-Silvan like is implied in the LOTR books? Who are Thranduil’s advisors? Is Tauriel really the only one who dislikes and defies Thranduil’s isolationist policies? Is Mirkwood very patriarchal, and is Tauriel’s appointment to Captain of the Guard something she faced opposition or competition for? Are the Sindar elite colonizers, or did they integrate into Silvan society? How does the average Silvan elf feel about their king, or do they not even think about him? Suggested Character(s): Thranduil, Tauriel, Original Character(s)

Poetry and prophecy: Bard uncovers that tapestry that turns a song from the book into a somewhat ominous prophecy; there’s a lot of discussion of fate and signs from the thrush at the door to the last light of Durin’s Day; Thranduil has seen enough in his thousands of years to have had time to brush up against a prophecy or two. What do these three believe about fate and prophecy? Are any of them prophets in their own right? How does poetry/music lend power to prophecy? (Bonus points if you tie it back into the Ainulindalë...) Suggested Character(s): Bard the Bowman, Thorin, Thranduil

Poisons and antidotes: I love Kíli/Tauriel and the scene where she heals his wound...but the worldbuilding around morgul poison and athelas is a little murky. It’s a decent parallel to Frodo’s condition in the LOTR movies, but it’s confusing lore-wise. Can you make sense of it? If Tauriel is a warrior, where did she learn healing? (In my own headcanons, her foster family are healers, which is how she learned those skills even though she’s primarily a warrior - but feel free to take it in whatever direction you’d like!) Suggested Character(s): Tauriel, Kíli, Original Character(s)

Rebuilding Erebor & Relations between Dwarves + Elves + Men: (I’d prefer an Everyone Lives AU for this situation.) How do Thorin and his Company put Erebor back together again? What are the renovation projects like? How long does it take Dís and the rest of the Longbeards to arrive in Erebor and help out? How long does Dáin stay to help his cousin? I would love to see some politics both internally within the Longbeard dwarves and externally as they relate to Mirkwood and Dale. Smaug’s corpse is just lying in the Long Lake...how do the dwarves feel about their old enemy’s body so close by? Do some Men want to re-establish Lake-town, and demand help from the dwarves who flushed the dragon out of the mountain? Do the dwarves want to harvest Smaug’s corpse for resources? (He’s probably got gold and jewels stuck in his scales, and dragon-skin/scales is probably a good raw material for crafting things.) What’s the process of Bard becoming King of Dale? Does he face any opposition? I love the idea of Hilda Bianca challenging him for leadership, or maybe insisting on some kind of democracy/representation in Dale! And if she doesn’t get her way, maybe it’s her leading some people back to Esgaroth and founding a democracy there that would make the old Master roll in his watery grave... How do Bard and Thranduil and Thorin reconcile after the battle? Does Thorin pay up like he said he would? Does Tauriel hang around, or does she go somewhere else? Are any elves inspired by her, or is she a total outcast? If you choose to explore the Kíli/Tauriel relationship, how does that affect politics between Erebor and Mirkwood? Suggested Character(s): Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, Bard the Bowman, Hilda Bianca, Thranduil, Tauriel, Original Character(s)

Tauriel's fate after the Battle of the Five Armies: This is for exploring what happened to Tauriel in canon. Does she wander the world and explore new places? How long does she mourn Kíli? What does she do with the runestone? Does she return to Mirkwood, and if so, how does she manage to get back into Thranduil’s good graces? There are a million different ways to take this, I’d love to see your take on her! Suggested Character(s): Tauriel, Thranduil, Original Character(s)

~~~

The Silmarillion: Magic & Spirits

Houseless Elves: Why did they refuse the call of Mandos? Do Avari even go to Mandos? Can Melkor and Sauron ensnare these spirits for their necromantic purposes? If the call of Mandos is refused once, does that bar them from listening in the future? What kinds of ghosts are haunting Middle-earth in the First Age? What kinds of ghosts haunt Aman? Suggested Character(s): Original Character(s), Melkor

Magic as a connection to the Music/the Song: Magic isn’t always the best-explained in Tolkien’s universe, but what we do know is the incredible power of the Music. How do the Maiar and Valar, who are not technically beings of Arda, interact with the world? How do elves and men (and dwarves! and orcs!) tap into the Song and manipulate it to their benefit (or detriment)? I have the headcanon that Elemmírë, the elf who sung the Aldudénië, is a priestess of Varda; what was the power of that mourning song, and how was it received by her patron Vala? Suggested Character(s): Elemmírë, Varda, Melian, Melkor, Original Character(s)

Nature Spirits: These holes in Tolkien’s worldbuilding are fascinating to me. What role do nature spirits play? How many are there? I’m thinking particularly of river spirits, like the River-woman and Goldberry, but there are probably also mountain spirits and water spirits and-and-and... Are they Maiar? Lesser beings? What do the Maiar we know of think about them? Gandalf seems the kind to listen to them and learn their stories, but perhaps Melian sees them more as servants in protecting her realm... Suggested Character(s): Melian, Original Character(s)

The Shadow-shapes in the hills above Cuiviénen: What were these shapes? Melkor’s prototypical monsters, Maiar who didn’t know how to interact with the Children, something else entirely? What did the original elves believe about them? Did they fear them, did they try to appease them, did they try to confront them? I headcanon that Elemmírë is an Unbegotten elf, so perhaps she lost friends to the Shadows, or thought she did. If the Shadows did take elves, was it out of malice or curiosity or a desire to protect them from whatever Melkor was planning? Suggested Character(s): Melkor, Elemmírë, Original Character(s)

The Void: Melkor spends a whole lot of time here. Does he have any company? Something or someone he makes to pass the time with? Do the Valar (like Manwë or Námo or Varda or Nienna) visit him there? What is the nature of the Void, is it pure emptiness or chaotic magic or a nightmare machine? Is Melkor being punished or is he being contained? And where are the boundaries of the Void? Varda rules the heavens; does her realm bleed into Melkor’s prison? Suggested Character(s): Melkor, Varda, Original Character(s)

~~~

The Silmarillion: Elven Relationships

Note: This request deals with relationships, and while I’m open to pretty much anything, please keep in mind my DNWs. Exploring these topics using canon relationships is a safe bet; I adore Maedhros/Fingon so having a look at them through this lens would be amazing; I have Aredhel as a character request here, and I see her as aromantic (“to none was her heart’s love given”) so while showing her in a relationship is fine, I’d love it if you could take her lack of romantic feelings into account; if you have a question about another ship, you can check to see what I’ve written and/or send me anon message! Additionally, a lot of these talk about soul bonds, which I’m very interested in, but one of my DNWs is soulmates. To me the concepts are very different things; it’s the destiny and inevitability and universal assumption of romance that really squick me out about soulmates. Soul bonds, on the other hand, have an aspect of choice to them that I really dig. So, please don’t make characters Fated For One Another, but please do explore what joining souls is like!

Laws & Customs of the Eldar: Boy do I have a lot of feelings about LaCE—and I’m always intrigued by other people’s feelings, too! I’d love to see an exploration of how these laws and customs came to be, which parts of the rules around marriage and children and re-embodiment are social constructs and which are innate to the fëa and hröa, and/or relationships that defy the norms. If your take on the laws is hetero/cisnormative, how does that affect queer elves? If your take is free of bigotry, what are the flexibilities around queerness, including asexuality and aromanticism? Laws and customs and rules always have loopholes and exceptions, so what do elves who don’t fit into the expected relationship mold do about these norms? Suggested Character(s): Aredhel, Maedhros, Fingon, Elrond, Any Unbegotten Elf Character(s)

Arranged Marriages among the Eldar: Russingon arranged marriage AU?? Orrrr....Maedhros or Fingon are politically engaged to someone else, and they have to deal with the ramifications of that? (Please don’t have them actually go through with the marriage if you go that route; I’m not interested in a story with Fingon having a wife, even if she’s a beard.) If elves (usually) only love once, and by declaration of the Valar can only marry once (Finwë being the somewhat disastrous exception), how is an arranged marriage justified within the cultural emphasis on these bonds? Are they more like arranged romances, people pushing their children together in hopes that they’ll fall in love? Or is it a stricter rule about “you do what’s best for this family”? (Note: Bad/cruel parenting is one of my major DNWs, so if you’re going that route, please don’t make the parent uncaring or malicious. Stubborn and narrow-minded is fine, as is the genuine belief that this is what’s best for the child, but ideally they’ll learn from their mistakes or perhaps everything will be interrupted and derailed by Canon Events. This is especially important wrt to Fëanor.) Suggested Character(s): Maedhros, Fingon

Creation/Discovery of soul bonds: How do soul bonds work on a metaphysical level? Can they be broken? Do they have to be nurtured and maintained? What’s long-distance communication like? Heck, what’s short-distance communication like, is it like talking in your mind or sharing your feelings or more abstract than that? Can elves form soul bonds with mortals? And most importantly—how did elves figure out they could soul bond with one another?? I can imagine that would be quite a shock when they’re discovering sex and then suddenly they’re inside each other’s minds! Suggested Character(s): Any Unbegotten Elf Character(s)

Non-romantic/sexual soul bonds: I’m good with practically any relationship here. Explore sibling bonds, twin bonds, parent-child bonds, queerplatonic bonds, found family bonds, adoption bonds, the bond between a Vala and their Maia...any kind of soul bond that is familial or platonic or chosen without regard to romance! (Feel free to take a canon romantic relationship and turn it queerplatonic, I live for that shit!) How are these bonds formed outside of sex? What are the rituals and ceremonies around forming them? Is it a public or private thing? Are non-romantic soul bonds taken seriously, or are they seen as less important than marriage bonds? Since elven parents literally give part of their soul in the creation of the child, is that parent-child bond innate? Suggested Character(s): Aredhel, Any Unbegotten Elf Character(s)

Elven adoption: I nominated this with Kidnap Dads in mind (if you go that route I love fluff for them as well as more nuanced/complicated takes on the situation, but whatever you do don’t make M&M cruel, and please include Maedhros as a parental figure alongside Maglor)...but hey, it could work for Fingon (and Maedhros) adopting Gil-galad! What are traditions around elven adoption? Are there soul bonds created between the adoptive parents and children? Was adoption even a thing in Aman, or is it only practiced in Middle-earth? Did elves adopt mortals and vice versa? Is adoption extended to found family other than a parent-child situation? How is adoption viewed by elvish society, especially if inheritance/succession is a concern? Suggested Character(s): Maedhros, Fingon, Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond

~~~

The Silmarillion: Noldorin Politics

Original Fëanorian follower(s) who turned on their lords at Sirion: Okay, this is a character tag, but I’m absolutely obsessed with this line: “For the sons of Fëanor that yet lived came down suddenly upon the exiles of Gondolin and the remnant of Doriath, and destroyed them. In that battle some of their people stood aside, and some few rebelled and were slain upon the other part aiding Elwing against their own lords (for such was the sorrow and confusion in the hearts of the Eldar in those days).” Who were these people who followed the Fëanorians into exile, into a Kinslaying, through the burning of the ships, through 30 years of Maglor as a king-regent incapable of treating with the Nolofinwëans, through the scattering of their lords and the harsh conditions of the North, through the Bragollach and the Nírnaeth and a “wild and woodland life” and the Second Kinslaying (where some of them went as far as to abandon children in the winter woods to die because they thought it was what their lord/s would want), through isolation and hatred from every other elven group, through the plan to attack a refugee camp—through ALL OF THAT, and THEN they turn on their lords at Sirion??? Why betray your lords NOW? And the people who DID keep following them after that (after kidnapping children!!!), what were they thinking?? — I firmly believe that Maedhros has many escapees from Angband in his service who are ride or die for him and whose morality was somewhat warped by Angband, but what about Maglor’s followers? Caranthir’s? Ambarussa’s? Even Celegorm and Curufin’s?? There’s just SO MUCH potential for story here, I’m dying to read about them!

Noldorin lines of succession: Was It Sexist Or Was It Not: The Eternal Question aka Why Didn’t Idril Become High Queen After Turgon? Also, what does “eldest of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise” even MEAN, Maedhros?? How did Gil-galad come to power? I find it hard to believe he became king immediately after Gondolin fell; was it a wartime power grab? A battlefield promotion? How did the kingship get established in the first place? Why was Finwë chosen to go with Oromë to Aman? Was Maglor ever really king, or did he only rule as a regent for the missing Maedhros? Suggested Character(s): Finwë, Gil-galad, Maglor

Origins of Gil-galad: I am always so interested in takes on Gil-galad’s parentage. My favorites are Russingon baby Gil (through trans mpreg or adoption, both are good) and secret peredhel Gil (probably an Aegnor/Andreth baby adopted by Orodreth), but I also love Finduilas Is Gil-galad and honestly, any situation is fascinating here—just convince me! A possible way to explore this is through Outsider POV; some noble or historian trying to figure out just what the heck is up with Gil-galad. His parentage being confusing in-canon is so fun!! Suggested Character(s): Gil-galad, Original Nobility of the Noldor

Maglor's Kingship between Maedhros' capture and rescue: Was Maglor ever really king? Did he give up on Maedhros early on, or did he cling to the hope that he still lived? Did his brothers turn to him for support, or did they connive to take responsibility from him? The rift between the Noldor wasn’t healed until Maedhros’ rescue; did Maglor try to cooperate with Fingolfin, or did he keep his people isolated? Was he relieved when Maedhros came back and took responsibility, or was he resentful to lose his power? How does this situation (and Maglor not going to rescue Maedhros) affect M&M’s relationship later on? Suggested Character(s): Maglor, Original Fëanorian follower(s)..., Curufin, Caranthir

Dwarf-Elf relations in the First Age & Dwarf-kingdoms: Dwarf-friends!!! Yes!!! I love elves and dwarves being buds (or partners if you’d like to go that route!) <3 IIRC, Curufin learned Khuzdul, and I’m sure Celebrimbor did too; Caranthir was supposedly rude to the dwarves, but what if that’s just his (and their!) love language? How did relations between the Sindar and the dwarves sour over time? Maedhros was friends with Azaghâl; how did that relationship begin? How did Finrod’s contract with the dwarves blossom into a real friendship? Eöl was also buddies with the dwarves; did he ever bump into Curufin or Caranthir while at a trade festival or something? And the dwarf kingdoms of the First Age are fascinating on their own, too; what was the political structure like? Did the dwarves bring items from the other side of the mountains into Beleriand? How did the petty-dwarves get exiled? What happened to Nogrod and Belegost in the War of Wrath, and were they ever re-established after the sinking of Beleriand? Suggested Character(s): Curufin, Caranthir

Guilds and Noble Houses of Tirion: Give me a Tirion political drama! Finwë trying to appease his lords and craftseldar? Indis integrating into Noldorin society and making connections with the noble houses? Arranged marriage situation between Nolofinwë and Anairë? The younger princes running amok and causing chaos in their elders’ carefully-laid plans and delicately balanced alliances? Suggested Character(s): Finwë, Indis, Original Nobility of the Noldor, Curufin, Caranthir, Maglor

Roles and Responsibilities in the Noldorin Royal Family: There were oodles of princes in Valinor. What did they all do? How did they get the followers who came with them to Middle-earth? Were they free to pursue their own crafts, or did they have responsibilities to the common people? How did this change in Middle-earth when suddenly everyone was in danger and had more pressing needs? What is it like being a re-embodied royal in a society that’s adapted to life without you? Suggested Character(s): Finwë, Indis, Maglor, Curufin, Caranthir, Gil-galad

Fashion as Political Statement: This is an excuse to request Color Coding Politics. Fëanorian red! Nolofinwëan blue! Findis wearing Aggressively Neutral White! Lalwen in orange? Arafinwë in yellow? Finwë in an amazing technicolor dream-coat...or more likely just red, showing his bias once more? Art of this would be absolutely fantastic. I have lots of headcanons about color politics; feel free to ask me about them if you choose this option. Suggested Character(s): Curufin, Caranthir, Gil-galad, Finwë

~~~

The Silmarillion: Trauma & Religion

War of Wrath: For a war that took so long and had such wide-reaching repercussions, we really don’t have very many details about this. It’s free real estate, basically! I have my favorite characters (Maedhros, Maglor, Elrond, Elros, Gil-galad...) that you could use to explore this time period, but literally anyone who’s alive at this point is fair game. And OCs! What do the Noldor and Vanyar (and Telerin sailors) feel about the War and interacting with the war-weary exiles and Sindar and Men of late-stage Beleriand? What kind of culture shock/culture clash is there? Were re-embodied exiles permitted to return to Middle-earth, or were they barred from going to war again? Suggested Character(s): Original Noldorin Character, Original Vanyarin Character

Trauma after the War of Wrath for elves and humans & Exiles adjusting to life in the Undying Lands post War of Wrath & Dealing with psychological trauma in Valinor: Trauma was commonplace in Beleriand, but not so much in Valinor. What’s it like for exiles who sail West to be in a society that doesn’t know how to support them? Are the Valar having to learn how to deal with the trauma of living elves super quickly, or are they reticent to change? How do the exiles interact with their re-embodied kin? What do the Vanyar and other Amanyar think of these elves who have been so deeply hurt? What kinds of treatises on psychology are penned by scholars with little to no previous experience? What is therapy like in Valinor? Do the exiles get together for support groups since no one else understands them? Or did the trauma of the Darkening and the First Kinslaying wake up the Amanyar and get their act together before then; are the exiles surprised by the structures already in place to support them? And what about Avari who have been dying steadily all this time from accidents and incidents in Middle-earth? If they’ve been re-embodied, how do they engage with the Eldar who have similar traumas? Suggested Character(s): Estë, Finrod, Maeglin, Original Noldorin Character, Original Vanyarin Character, Rúmil, Any Avarin Elf Character(s)

Worship of the Valar and Religion & Avarin religious culture: Do the Vanyar really worship the Valar, or do they seem them as hyper-powerful neighbors? What are priests and priestesses like in a world where the gods walk among you? How does each kindred of the elves interact with the Valar? Are Maiar viewed as equal worshippers/servants or as deities in their own right? Do the Avari even know about or acknowledge the Valar? Do they worship the stars, or simply Eru? Suggested Character(s): Pengolodh, Rúmil, Any Avarin Elf Character(s)

~~~

Middle-earth Legendarium: Magic & Spirits

Afterlives: This is pretty vague, but I think it’s referring to the various kinds of afterlife. What are the Halls of Mandos like? What happens to spirits who don’t go to Mandos? Do Men pass through Mandos on the way to Beyond? What happens to Men? Are they reincarnated in the more traditional understanding of the word, do they go to some other realm similar to Arda, are they just endlessly partying it up with Eru? Do dwarves really go to the Halls, or is that just a superstition? And of course, what about orcs? Suggested Character(s): Námo

Fate of orc souls after death: Yeah, really, what about orcs? If the orcs were originally elves twisted into Morgoth’s servants, are their spirits still elven? Are they reborn as they once were, elven despite their life as an orc? What about orcs who are many generations removed from their elvish ancestors? Do they have fëar? Can orcs be rehabilitated? I refuse to accept that all orcs are inherently evil; but what does everyone believe in-universe? Suggested Character(s): Námo, Original Orc Character(s)

Foresight and Prophecy and Doom: I’m honestly not sure if this fanon or canon, but Finarfin and his line having foresight through Indis is a wonderful concept and I’d love an exploration of that. How accurate is foresight? Can fate be circumvented? Are prophecies like the Doom of the Noldor self-fulfilling, or are they warnings about possible futures, or are they curses upon people? If you have a high Doom upon you, does that end with your death, or does it follow you to Mandos and beyond? Suggested Character(s): Námo, Finarfin

Songs and Words of Power: Rap battles with Sauron! ...joking aside, song as magic is just fascinating to me. How does this connect to the Ainulindalë and the Song of the World? The elves named themselves Quendi, the Speakers; how do they view the power of words and their ability to change the world around them? Can music be used as a force of destruction or a weapon (battle bard Maglor)? Can it be used to manipulate someone’s mind (Sauron)? Suggested Character(s): Maglor, Sauron

Stars and Starlight: “All light is sacred to the Eldar...but wood-elves love best the light of the stars.” Okay, sorry for being a Hobbit movie apologist on main, but I do love Tauriel! How do elves view starlight? Is it holy, or are the stars more like their friends and guides? Did the Avari choose to remain in Middle-earth partially because of their love for the stars, which were drowned out by the light of the Trees? How does Eärendil feel about being a star; does he feel blasphemous or holy? What legends and superstitions are there among Avari and Men and others who don’t know the origins of Gil-Estel about the new star in the sky? Suggested Character(s): Morwë, Eärendil

The Unseen Realm: This is the in-between world where Frodo goes when he wears the ring, the world that the Nazgûl in their half-life inhabit. Are Ainur able to slip into this realm at will? Did Gandalf walk invisible in Gondolin? How does Sauron manipulate this realm to his purposes? Is this where elves go if they fade? (I don’t usually like Maglor fading, but it could be an interesting way to explore this...) Suggested Character(s): Námo, Sauron, Nazgûl, Maglor

Magical Artefacts & Magical Communications: Palantíri! Galadriel’s mirror! Ósanwë! All sorts of cool ways to talk with magic. Do the Rings of Power enable long-distance ósanwë? Did the Silmarils contain pieces of Fëanor’s soul? What other marvelous magical creations were there that didn’t make it into the Legendarium we know? Suggested Character(s): Sauron, Maglor, Eärendil

~~~

Middle-earth Legendarium: Politics & Lore

Feudalism between Eldar and Edain: We have Edain entering into the service of Noldorin lords (Bëor and Finrod, Hador and Fingolfin, Amlach and Maedhros) and land being given to Men by elves (or not, in Haleth’s case)...how far did this feudal relationship extend? Were the Edain mostly autonomous or were they very much bound to their elven lords? Were there common elves who paid tribute to Edain lords? Can any relationship between elves and Men truly be equal if this is the way they originated? Fealty kink? Suggested Character(s): Curufin, Original Elf Character

Fourth Age Tirion: What’s Tirion like with a bunch of dead people walking around living again, and a bunch of weird legends now imposing in daily life? What’s the first meeting of Rúmil and Pengolodh like—who geeks out over whom? Are the Fëanorians back yet? Is the average elf even really aware of all the nonsense that happened in Middle-earth, or are they extremely unimpressed with King So-and-So of a square of land that’s now underwater trying to cut them in line at the coffee shop? Suggested Character(s): Original Elf Character, Pengolodh, Rúmil of Tirion, Celebrimbor, Elrond, Galadriel

Relationship between Noldor and Dwarves: See “Dwarf-Elf relations in the First Age & Dwarf-kingdoms” in my Silm request for a starting point...but also, was Elrond’s Last Homely House open to dwarves? How did Galadriel come to respect the dwarves, especially after her Sindar kin grew to hate them? Suggested Character(s): Curufin, Celebrimbor, Elrond, Galadriel

Timekeeping between the Death of the Two Trees and the Rise of the Sun and Moon: Tolkien’s math drives me ABSOLUTELY INSANE. His timelines are contradictory, I get headaches just thinking about the length of elf pregnancy, what does aging mean for an immortal species, WHY ARE TREE YEARS LIKE THAT and WHAT IS A YÉN? Please try and make sense of this for me, I beg of thee. I’m especially interested in the time period between the Death of the Trees and the Rise of the Sun and Moon. Did the Noldor wander the Helcaraxë for 3 years or 30? How long was Maitimo in Angband? Did the Sindar even realize something was different? How did people start calculating Sun years? When was the calendar of the First Age adopted? Who did all this math? Is there an in-universe explanation for these contradictions? Do people fight over math? Do the Ainur experience time the same way the Children do? Did some Noldo genius come up with a timekeeping system that worked with the Moon, only for the Sun to come along and muck it up? Suggested Character(s): Pengolodh, Rúmil of Tirion, Original Elf Character, Fëanor - really any scholarly character, tbh!

Treatment of Angband's Escaped Thralls: Which kinds of escapees choose to go to Himring with Maedhros the Tall, and which choose to go to Gondolin and the House of the Hammer of Wrath? Was Rôg an escapee too? Can Maedhros really tell who’s been turned by the Enemy? Does Thingol have the right of it in turning away thralls from Doriath? (If he even does that, I’m now researching this and I’m not sure it’s actually canon...) What was it like for Maedhros and Gwindor to readjust to elven society? Did Elrond grow up surrounded by Fëanorian followers who escaped Angband, and is that where he learned healing? Suggested Character(s): Original Elf Character, Elrond

In-universe authorial bias in historical texts: All of the Legendarium is a history, which means there’s bound to be unreliable narrators. Was Maeglin really as evil as the story says? What gets left out of the narrative? What gets lost in translation? Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? Suggested Character(s): Pengolodh, Rúmil of Tirion

Trade in Middle-earth: What was trade like in First Age Beleriand? What about Second Age trade between Númenor and the mainland? Was Ost-in-Edhil a trade hub? After Sauron returned and traveling became dangerous, what intrepid traders braved the wilds for the sake of goods and money? How was currency developed around the world? Suggested Character(s): Curufin, Celebrimbor, Elrond, Galadriel

Orcs Surviving the Wars: Again, I don’t believe that all orcs are irredeemably, inherently evil. Were they persecuted and stamped out after the Ring War, or did some escape and adapt to a life without a harsh overlord? What’s orc agriculture like? Would Elrond take a chance on rehabilitating an orc in Rivendell? What if orcs were more complicated all along, and it’s the histories that simplified them to cardboard-cutout villains? Suggested Character(s): Original Elf Character, Pengolodh, Celebrimbor, Elrond, Galadriel

~~~

The Adventure Zone: Balance

My only non-Tolkien request, oops. Don’t think I’m not as interested in this request, though; I’m the only one who nominated for it, so I picked my very favorite concepts and I’d love to see what you do with them!

Angus McDonald’s Grandfather: This guy’s name was lost to time, and he loves silverware, and he has a grandson, and that’s pretty much all we know about him. Was he involved in the Relic Wars somehow? Did his name get eaten by the Voidfish? I imagine he’s a rather eccentric fellow; how much of that did he pass on to Angus? Is he even real, or was Angus lying to Tres Horny Boys about his destination?

Any Wonderland Adventurer(s): I’d love to see what happens to the other people who go to Wonderland before our boys. Do they all die? How many get what they want and get out? Do any of them have weaker moral compasses than THB and agree to advertise for Edward and Lydia? What if Edward or Lydia fell in love with an adventurer and trapped them there? What kinds of things do people sacrifice to the Wheel? We know about the Escape Game and the Healing Game; what about the Recovery Game? How long has Wonderland been around? How has it evolved over time? What was it like before Edward and Lydia got ahold of the Animus Bell? How did they get ahold of it? (Personally I think Barry just gave it to them...but did he have to go through the trials first?)

Differences within species between the Two-Sunned World and Faerun: I love the fanon that Two-Sun elves are juuust a little different from Faerun elves...like Taako’s echolocation, for example. But what if this applies to the other species like gnomes and dwarves and even humans? How are the Seven Birds just a liiiitle off from everyone else around them? Also, Cat Elves. This is an excuse for Two-Sun Cat Elves. GIVE TAAKO A TAIL. (I mean, or not, do what you want, but I’d love to see that, lol.) Suggested Character(s): Any Member(s) of the IPRE, Original Character(s)

Reclaimers before Tres Horny Boys: Who were the other Reclaimers? Who did Lucretia trust to carry out this dangerous mission? How did they all each, inevitably fail? What if Magic Brian was a Reclaimer gone wrong? What was the last straw for Lucretia, the last failure that made her scheme to get her boys back? And the other Reclaimers weren’t officially disbanded right away; how did they feel about the new guys in town, and losing their jobs to these doofuses? Suggested Character(s): Lucretia, Original Character(s)

The Relic Wars: There were wars about the Relics!!! Wars!! That everyone forgot!! Wars where people that THB knew died!! And then we never get into this in canon! It drives me nuts! I would love to see an exploration of this chaotic time period, what the IPRE did to mitigate the damage, which relics were obvious and terrifying and which were secret and terrifying, etc... I’ve written a bit about Relic War-era Hurloane, but what were the other NPCs doing? (Or Hurley and Sloane too, I’d love to see your take on them too!) When Lucretia wiped everyone’s memories, what was lost? (I suspect Angus’ Grandfather got caught up in that...) How did those missing memories lead people to the Bureau of Balance? Suggested Character(s): Lucretia, Any Member(s) of the IPRE, Angus McDonald’s Grandfather

The Robot World's crystal post-Story and Song: The IPRE promised to return the Robot World’s crystal if they ever managed to defeat the Hunger...and we know they can plane hop from the casino liveshow...so, did they ever return the crystal? How did that go down? How does the Robot World rebuild itself? And if we’re going into it being the (K)nights Arc’s setting, are there other characters than Troth that we might recognize? Suggested Character(s): Magnus Burnsides, Lucretia, Any Member(s) of the IPRE

Worlds that survived the Hunger: In the worlds where the IPRE found the Light of Creation before the Hunger arrived, what was it like for the people there who had to endure the Hunger’s attack? What was the scope of the destruction? How did they rebuild afterward? Does uniting against a common enemy bring the people of the world together and create more Tesseralia-like societies? How many people knew about the IPRE, and what did they think about them? When they hear the Story and Song, what’s the reaction? If they didn’t know about the IPRE what myths do they create to explain the Hunger? Suggested Character(s): Lucretia, Original Character(s)

~~~

Alright, that’s the end of my prompts/requests! Thanks for reading this far, and whatever you end up writing for me I am super excited to read it!! And if you have questions or ideas or something, my askbox is open and I have anon messages on, I’d love to talk! Thank you again for creating for me, you are the best! <3

#tmi anna #worldbuilding exchange #exchange letter

[middleearthpixie]

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: In Laketown, Seren and Thorin risk taking the chance on each other, but then the dwarves come up with the idea of breaking into the Armory to steal weapons…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: The Company, Bard the Bowman, Tilda, Sigrid, and Bain, the denizens of Laketown

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,629

Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! And feel free to reblog this if you've enjoyed it!

@tschrist1

The man’s name was Bard and he lived in Laketown and after a bit of a back and forth between him, Thorin, and Balin, the Lake-man agreed to smuggle them into Laketown.

Seren sat at the stern of his flat-bottomed barge, trying to ignore how cold she was, but it wasn’t easy. Frost layered her hair, made her cuffs crunchy, and no matter how tightly she wrapped her arms about herself, she shivered.

Thorin and Dwalin spoke quietly amongst themselves. Kili sat against his brother, pale and shivering as well. The others were quiet altogether.

The lake that gave Laketown its name might as well have been an ocean, as land seemed to be little more than a line on the horizon in any direction. In the distance, the town itself rose from the center of the lake, with canals instead of streets and the houses stretching skyward instead of outward.

“Everyone, we need more coins,” Balin said softly. “We are fifteen short.”

Seren winced, her entire body aching as she reached for the oilskin sack holding her money. It was the only personal possession she had left. Her sword and knives were in Mirkwood. Her original clothes had been left in Rivendell. Her sack vanished when the ponies bolted after their first battle with the orcs.

She unwound the leather thong cinching it and spilled the coins into her palm. Too tired to count any of it, she pushed up to her feet and walked over to dump the lot of it into Balin’s small palm. “Take it. I’ve no need for any of it.”

Balin looked up at her. “I cannot take all of this, Seren.” He glanced at the others. “Don’t be stingy, lads. Pay up.”

Seren tossed the oilskin into the lake. “I have no way to carry any of it now.”

Thorin came over to her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He pressed his hand to her forehead and she smacked it away as he said, “You feel warm.”

“Impossible. I’m freezing.” She turned to go back to where she had been sitting.

He crossed the deck to crouch before her. “Seren.”

“I’m fine, Thorin. Just tired and banged up. Again. I just—“ She stopped, shaking her head as she stared off toward Laketown. Her thoughts were such tangled knot, she didn’t know which end was up or which loose end to pull.

“You just what?”

“I just rather wish I’d stayed in Bree. Or the Shire. Or anywhere else.” She glanced over at Bilbo, who seemed to be studying them, but then sharply turned away. “And I think he is jealous.”

Thorin glanced over toward the hobbit, then back at her. “I think you see something that isn’t there.”

She knew better, but didn’t feel much like arguing about it. “I feel as if everything has grown far more complicated.”

“Because they know you aren’t a lad?”

“That.” She met his gaze. “And us, I suppose.”

A hint of mischief came into his blue eyes. “I thought you said there was no us?”

A heavy sigh rose to her lips and she let her head all forward into her hands. “Maybe there is… I don’t know. Nothing is the way I thought it would be. No one was supposed to ever know I was a woman. It is so much easier when the world thinks me a boy.”

Thorin rose with a grunt and shifted to sit beside her. Glancing at the others, he said, “They are all fond of you, Seren. Every man in this company sees you as one of us.”

“But I’m not one of you. Even more so now.”

“You are. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Without thinking, she let her head come to rest against his shoulder. It just felt natural, and he didn’t seem to mind it, either. Across from them, Gloín argued over giving up ten more coins, and she smiled as the others tried to convince him it would be in his best interest to do so.

Her eyes closed as Thorin pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Your hair is frosty.”

“I’m turning into an icicle.”

“We’re almost there.”

She mangled a smile, then lifted her head at the sudden tension in his shoulder. He abruptly stood, but said nothing and as her curiosity got the better of her, she also rose.

In the distance, shrouded in mist, stood the Lonely Mountain. It was serene and majestic and she could feel what it meant to the dwarves around her as they all, one by one, caught sight of it and went silent. Gloín, without a word, handed over the rest of his money to Balin.

Seren glanced up at Thorin. His expression was unreadable, and for the first time, he looked like a king to her as the lake breeze wafted across the water to lift his dark hair away from his face as he simply gazed toward the mountain.

Her hand found its way into his, and she smiled as he linked his fingers with hers and gave a gentle squeeze. As his thumb grazed hers, she wished she could forget her secret and trust in what Amara had told her. But she couldn’t. If she confessed her true feelings for him, she would only hurt him when the time came to spill her secret. No, it was better this way. This way, the only one who ran the risk of getting hurt was her, and she was more comfortable with that than with being the one who hurt Thorin.

Bard broke the heavy silence. “We are almost at the gate. Into the barrels with you.”

She bit back a sigh as Thorin’s hand slipped from hers, and one by one, they all did as they were told. As the barge glided to a halt before the checkpoint, Seren fought the urge to poke her head up and see what was going on.

Not that it mattered. The answer to her question came in the form of hundreds of slimy, stinky codfish seemingly falling from the sky to fill each one of the barrels. She gagged at the stink and tried to ignore the slippery scales pasted up against her hands, her face, stuck in her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to will away the rising nausea. It’s only for a few minutes.

Above, through the fish, came the sound of Bard arguing with someone. Then, someone shouted, “Dump the barrels!” and her heart skipping a beat. Any moment, and they’d all be exposed and arrested and that meant another cell. Of course, if she was tossed into one with Bofur, he wouldn’t have to worry about Smaug.

No, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t really angry with him. It was almost a relief, actually, not having to pretend any longer. And perhaps Dwalin was right and her voice gave her away before Bofur did. To her, her voice sounded throaty and almost husky, like a boy’s before it changed. But it was entirely possible what she heard and what others heard were not the same voice.

Either way, it was moot. They all knew.

“Never mind,” came the same voice who’d ordered the barrels dumped, and Seren breathed a sigh of relief as she closed her eyes and let her forehead come to rest against the inside of her barrel. It stunk of fish. She would be eternally grateful to never, ever see the inside of another barrel ever again.

The barge resumed its glide through the now-calm canals, and when they finally stopped and Bard said, “Come along. Follow me and do not draw attention to yourselves,” she and the others all popped up from their barrels to send fish in all directions, to the bemusement of the dock-master.

Bard flipped him a gold piece. “You didn’t see any of this, Percy,” he said as he helped one dwarf after another from the barge. “And you can have the fish as well.”

“See any of what?” Percy asked, his gaze following each dwarf as he passed by.

From the corner of her eye, Seren saw how his gaze lingered on her, and she bit back a smile as Thorin’s hand caught hers and he gave a gentle tug as he said to Percy, “She’s with me.”

“Thorin!”

He glanced down at her. “What?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you are.”

“Since when?”

He didn’t reply, but tugged on her arm to pull her along as Bard led them through the alleys of Laketown. Although the populace of Laketown was that of Man, they all seemed to tower over both her and the dwarfs. Still, they moved through the crowded marketplace, attracting only bit of attention, and Thorin did not let go of her the entire time. He laced his fingers with hers, and every now and again, his thumb grazed hers.

Bard’s home was in the center of town and he stopped a block or so from there and said, “The Lake Master has eyes on my home at all times. There is only one way to get in without being seen.”

He turned to them. “Can you all swim?”

The thought of plunging into the icy lake water was not at all appealing to Seren, but she followed the others and gritted her teeth to keep them from shattering against one another as the dwarves swam silently along the canal toward the house at the center of town.

But that wasn’t the worst part about it.

“Da,” a tall blond girl called over her shoulder as Seren peered up at her, “why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet?”

Seren rolled her eyes as she climbed up and out into what served as the bathroom. Soaked to the skin, still aching, and now frozen besides, she said, “How do you do?”

“Sigrid,” Bard appeared down the narrow hallway, “take Seren and find her something warm and dry to wear. Your brother and I will tend to the others.”

To say Sigrid looked confused would be an understatement, but she nodded and said, “Come with me, then.”

Seren squelched along behind her, into a cozy little room at the rear of the tall house. As Sigrid closed the door behind them, she said, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in my brother’s clothes?”

“Miss Sigrid,” Seren offered up a slight smile, “I’m not a boy.”

The girl blushed and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry… I thought—“

“It’s all right. Everyone thought at first.” She grimaced as she tugged the leather thong holding her braid securely and unwound her hair to let it stream over her shoulders. “I would be more comfortable, but I doubt anything of his would fit me.”

“No. Most likely not. But, I’m afraid all I have are dresses.”

“If it’s dry, I’ll treasure it.”

Sigrid moved to a battered wardrobe and opened it. “Everything is dry and warm, I promise you that.”

Seren sighed as she fought to peel off her wet tunic and leggings and hose. Her boots left puddles on the floor, but there was nothing she could do about that. Sigrid passed her a towel without turning about and Seren went to work drying her body and then her hair as best she could.

When she emerged from the wardrobe, Sigrid had a fresh muslin chemise and a lovely, if slightly faded, gown of deep green velvet. “These are old, but I’ve take care with them and this sis my favorite dress. I thought you might like to wear something pretty.”

The girl’s generosity touched Seren, her throat tightened and her eyes stinging as they fell on the beautiful dress. It had been years since she’d last been in a dress, never mind something as pretty as this one. “Are you certain? It’s so pretty, I’d hate to ruin it.”

Sigrid set the clothes on the bed. “I’m positive. Please, take it.”

Seren shrugged into the chemise, the muslin cool and smooth against her skin, and Sigrid helped her into the dress. It was a bit snug in the bodice, but otherwise it fit perfectly and as she smoothed a hand along the velvet skirt, she looked up and said, “I cannot even begin to thank you.”

“There is no need for that. No one would mistake you for a boy now.”

Seren peered at her reflection in the small mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Her hair was mostly dry now, thick and tumbling over her shoulders in loose curls and for the first time in a lifetime, she felt like a girl.

“I have dry hose,” Sigrid dove into the wardrobe again, “but your feet look tiny. Perhaps a pair of Tilda’s slippers will fit you until your boots dry.”

She moved to the second wardrobe, the one Seren presumed belonged to her sister and a minute later, she had on a pair of pale green slippers that fit her almost as if they had been made for her.

“Sigrid?” Bard rapped gently on the door. “Is everything all right?”

She tugged open the door. “It’s fine, Da.”

Bard’s gaze fell on Seren and she didn’t miss how his back stiffened. “Miss Seren,” he said with a hint of a smile. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“The others won’t know what hit them.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes as she ventured down the narrow hallway, toward the great room, where the noise ceased as soon as she stepped into the room. Her cheeks grew warm as fourteen pairs of eyes slid in her direction and widened.

“Seren?” Bofur asked as if he might be mistaken.

“Stop. It’s still me. I’m just dry now.”

“Oh, lassie, you are more than that,” Dwalin said softly. “Wouldn’t you say, Thorin?”

She looked over at him, biting back a smile at the wide-eyed stare Thorin offered up in return. A slow smile lifted the corners of his lips as he said, “You look lovely, Seren.”

“Thank you. I feel like a sore thumb, however. And if I trip over this skirt, I will hurt the first one who laughs.”

“No one is going to laugh.” Thorin stepped up and to her surprise, caught both of her hands in his. “We should talk.”

“Not now,” she said, mindful of how the others all tried to inch closer and listen to their conversation. “Don’t you have weapons to procure? I’d like my steel back.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” he said, releasing her hands. “Your blades, our blades—they are all somewhere in Mirkwood.”

Dwalin looked over at Bard. “You promised us weapons. Where are they?”

Bard sighed softly. “I will bring them up. They will not be what you are used, to, though.”

While the others waited for him to return with weapons, Seren moved away from the room, toward the rear of the house. She peered out the window at Laketown spread out before them. Dale was just on the far side of the lake. Erebor just beyond it.

Their quest was almost at an end.

She peered over her shoulder at the others. Bard had returned with the promised weapons, which were in reality just modified boating tools, much to the dwarves’ dismay. They demanded weapons of iron, true weapons, only to be told the Lake Master confiscated all the weapons years earlier and kept them locked in the town armory.

Thorin and Balin huddled together and she couldn’t hear them, but from their serious expressions, she had the feeling at some point, dwarves were going to raid the armory. Somehow, she also had the feeling it would not end well for them.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU