#@sdavid09

[adriellej]

Elite snipers coming back?

Hello my lovelies! I have been thinking of getting back to writing Elite Snipers again, what do you guys think about it? Do you want me to get back into it?

Just leaving the tags here - y'all are from my taglist on Elite Snipers so just putting you in here for your opinion!

Tags: @ilostmyshoereads@unadulteratedstorycollector@talesoftheimpala@impalapossible@deanwinchester-af@teamfreewill-imagine@hiddenwritingsintheworld@deascheck@winchesterswoonathon@thing-you-do-with-that-thing@for-the-love-of-dean@tia58@deans-cherry-pie1@phoenixia67@shadowpriestess6@faith-in-dean@mysupernaturalfics@mrswhozeewhatsis@get-royally-fucked@sassysupernaturalsweetheart@liger26 @poemwriter98 @lycangirl44@aprofoundbondwithdean@blacktithe7@chaos-and-the-calm67@leatherandwinchesters@not-so-natural-spn@that1awkwardfangirl@loveitsallineed@1dstudyblr@irishdoll80@blushingsamgirl@sis-tafics@supernatural67brokenwings@ledledledledled@ashleymalfoy@lucifer-ismy-bae  @emily-jane-girl-next-door-rp  @feelmyroarrrr@sdavid09  @badwolf-212 @mishasmuffin@dr-dean​  @curliesallovertheplace​  @charliebradbury1104​ @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki​ @supermonkeypizza@pizzarollpatrol​  @mysteriouslyme81​  @winchesterprincessbride​ @bkwrm523​ @supernatural508

[lazilymysticalzombie]

No Regrets

Daily Writing Challenge by @ sdavid09  -  Prompt #8:

Prompt: What is your character’s greatest regret?

Pairing: Tony Stark x reader

Author’s note: I already kinda wrote a fic about Tony’s regrets? Also, I really wanted to write something happier than all the ideas that came to my mind when I read the prompt, sooo... Here is some sugar-daddy!Tony AU :)

Warnings: use of foul language, sex scenes, not very Steve Rogers friendly 

MASTERLIST

__________________________________________________________

No Regrets

People say that he should be ashamed of himself, dating a girl half his age. They say that it’s simply disgusting, an old man like him sleeping with such a young girl. He probably makes her do things she doesn’t want to do, they say. He will use her, taint her and leave like a garbage for a younger, prettier. And she will be alone, broken.

*

It happens during one of the most boring galas Tony has ever attended. He shook hands with every rich person there, exchanged pleasantries armed with hidden edges and spikes and is now making his usual rounds. He keeps looking for Y/N, who disappeared a few minutes ago and hasn’t reappeared yet. Jealousy, which he is not sure he even should feel, burns in his chest, consuming him. There are many younger, more handsome men here, who would not be opposed to entering this sort of relationship with her that Tony himself has. He wouldn’t be surprised...

There is a hand on his arm and Y/N sways gently towards him, her lips curved into an alluring smile. She puts something in his buttonhole while she pretends to smooth over his suit and then kisses his cheek and leaves him again, having apparently seen somebody she recognizes.  

Tony puts his hand into his buttonhole and picks up some piece of material. For a moment he doesn’t understand, the gears in his head for once dead, still. Then the realization dawns on him and the long-forgotten feeling of a hot blush crawling up his face surprises him, as he whips his head towards her.  

She is looking at him over her shoulder, still walking towards what he can see is a ‘staff only’ room, a flirtatious smile on her sinful lips. His feet start walking towards her without his conscious agreement and in his hand he clutches a pair of red-and-gold panties...

***

People say that she is a slut, dating him only for his money. “A whore”, mutter the shocked housewives, hungrily watching TV shows about scandals and rumours from Hollywood. “How can he think she’s with him for anything else, she probably demands money after every night they spend together.”

*

She doesn’t like Steve Rogers much, even though many consider him a paragon of virtue. She rarely stays in the same room as he, even more rarely talks with him. She tries to stay out of his way as much as she can. She eyes him distrustfully when he argues with Tony, huffs with displeasure when he asks for updates on his uniform and ostentatiously leaves  when he tries to talk with her about her relationship with Stark.  

But when Steve during one of the outings, in full WWII uniform and in his Captain America voice, asks what Tony without his suit is, she SNAPS and slaps him across the face, spitting out a speech about deserts, needles and cacti. Both Steve and Tony are shocked, the soldier more at the force of the hit and Tony... Tony is surprised that she would think to defend him at all. So much that he misses the apology Steve mutters quietly and the appreciative glances Natasha keeps giving Y/N.  

Y/N gives Steve one more glare, catches Tony by his arm and takes him home and to the workshop, where she spends the next few hours playing with DUM-e and watching Tony create new marvels, seemingly out of nothing.

*

He doesn’t regret this. Not when she is laying on the bed, bound by her wrists to the headboard, clad only in the dark red lingerie he bought specially for this. She is ready for him, panting and moaning slightly, her thighs rubbing together to relieve some of the pressure, her body arching beautifully. He licks his lips. He wants to tear every strap of the red material from her body, kiss the naked expanse of her skin and tease her mercilessly until she is begging him to fuck her at least twice.

She will not like it, him tearing off the gift he just gave her. She doesn’t like when he destroys her clothes, even though she secretly thinks it so very hot. The practical part of her mind always fights desperately against the more animal one - the one that wants to be claimed, possessed and marked at this very moment. 

Her eyes are half-lidded, clouded with desire when she looks at him and moans, causing all his self-resolve to crumble away.  

He’ll buy her another set...

[dragongirl642]

Adopted Plot Bunny #36: OC was Smaug’s dragon rider. He was kind before the attack. And he only attacked because Thrain threw her out of the kingdom when she asked for shelter and medicine. She almost died as a result, if it wasn’t for Smaug’s magic, she would have. So Smaug attacked and put a sleeping spell on her. Gandalf breaks it when they find her. She now must cope with everything that has happened, and Thorin (wanting to make up for what his grandfather did) wants to help.

I have decided to make this a reader insert since that is my speciality. Also, this ended up being way longer then I thought and so, this is only part 1 of what I am planning to be a 2 (maybe 3) part story. (In my writing there are no rules concerning the naming of the Dwarrow race AAAAAHHHHH).

@sdavid09 Thank you for the adoption. Sorry for the late entry. Hope this is okay.

Context:

The line of Durin survives battle of five armies with injuries. Reader is found about a week/two weeks after the battle by some dwarrow tasked with finding out where the gold ends/damages Smaug had wrought. They find a glowing woman in an alcove and, justifiably, freak out and call Gandalf.

-----------------------------------------------Begin-----------------------------------------

 The wind churned against mighty wingbeats. Like a hurricane stirring to rise. The great fire drake Smaug soared through the air. Red-gold scales shining in the sunlight. A young dragon by all accounts. Subconsciously drawn to gold like his kin, but this did not completely rule his thoughts. He was mostly free of it, for now, for he had a conscious desire to protect that which was dear to him. For hidden between the spikes trawling down his spine, sat a young dragon rider. His dragon rider.

Descendant of those blessed by the Valar; after they tamed one of Morgoth’s famed dragons for their own, mortal creations of the union of all the free peoples of Middle Earth. Thwarting his dark powers through self-sacrifice, freely giving their light to free the great serpents from darkness.

In appearance, she seemed closer to a young human woman than an elf, barely out of childhood. But there was a hidden strength under her skin and a fire in her chest. At least, there should have been. For now, she clung listlessly to Smaug’s back.

They had met, this dragon and rider, in the withered heath. Like all dragon riders, (Y/n) was tasked with travelling to this dangerous valley to prove themselves. Which they did, marvellously. Packing and planning, (they were pretty meticulous after all), and finally arriving. They sought their dragon. A dragon marked for them as they were marked for it. A dragon of similar age and mind. (Y/n) found this dragon in Smaug. Beating him in single combat and winning his heart through song. (A process that would kill anyone else who didn’t carry the blessings of the Valar…well…probably kill). Also, after this great battle, she sang to him regularly; since song is the greatest expression of the Valar’s power after all, it helped keep him in the light.

When they flew together, their minds were as one. Nigh unbeatable in combat. A dragon rider and their mount were among the most feared forces in the world. Especially if they survived against all attacks by the forces of darkness to reach maturity.

(Y/n) and Smaug were unbothered by this though. Smaug’s pride and (Y/n) headstrong nature meaning they failed to see the danger before it was too late. (Y/n) had presented herself before her father. He had had wished her well and she had set out to fulfil her role in protecting the peoples of Middle Earth. She decided they would eventually venture North into the frozen wastes, but not until they were stronger and Smaug could survive the colder regions. So, they travelled South. Deciding to visit Rivendell. Her family still knew of a bloodline living there, closely connected to theirs.  But before they crossed the Misty Mountains, she had a stop Smaug was happy to indulge her for. Being curious as to the customs of Dwarves and having heard of their skill. She wished to visit Erebor and see the great forges for herself. She also promised to buy Smaug some golden trinket to help ease his lust for it.

But disaster struck just as they left the shadow of the Grey Mountains. Ambushed by Goblins. The tricky creatures had decided that, no creature as powerful as a dragon would look up, they weren’t wrong, so they positioned archers on the peaks and shot at his rider. (Y/n) was able to stop nearly all of them, twirling their staff at lighting speed, but not all. An arrow to the calf is a big enough problem on its own but add poison to the mix and you’re in trouble.

Their stop at Erebor suddenly gained an urgency it didn’t have before. (Y/n)’s pride, an equal match for her dragon’s, would not suffer to go home in disgrace, so they sought treatment elsewhere.

“I am a dragon rider, I will not be felled by a goblins arrow.” (Y/n)’s promise to Smaug was as much a comfort for her as it was for him. They journeyed over green valleys and scattered groves. Stopping in promising spots so (Y/n) could gather the necessary herbs to craft a poultice for her wound. Singing and crushing herbs she was able to almost create her own cure. It didn’t get rid of the poison, but it cleaned the wound and slowed the infection down.

Two days later, they landed in a valley. Almost in the shadow of the lonely mountain but guarded from sight by a wall of trees. A vast forest stretched all around on one side of the mountain.

 (Y/n) pov:

 “Smaug, I need you to wait here please.” When I had told him that he had protested. ‘Not wanting his rider to go too far from him with her injury, I completely understand’.

But even so, I argued with him. Citing the rivalry between dragons and dwarves. Noting that Dwarves only barely tolerated dragon riders due to the old alliance they had. I warned him of some recent news my father had received from the elves, of a dwarven king succumbing to gold sickness. Smaug winced at that. I sighed, telling him that if I showed up with him in tow it might send the Dwarves into a panic. After convincing him to stay put, I rebandaged my leg and set off for the gates of Erebor. Giving Smaug a quick hug before I go.

Leaving just as the sun was setting, I ended up walking all night. Skirting the edge of the trees, eventually coming to a road just as the sun was rising. I collapsed by the side of the road, I need to take a little rest. ‘Where are you now.’ ‘I’m almost there, be calm.’

The sound of clopping hooves echoed in the distance. I pulled a sandwich out of my bag and started Sullenly eating. The hoof beats got louder. Looking up, I saw a group of Dwarrow on ponies come trotting up the road. They stopped and looked at me.

“Who are you miss? Where are you bound?” I greeted them and responded that I was bound for Erebor. They just squinted at me. ‘No I’m not an elven envoy. Let’s just opt for a smile.’ I repeated the age-old greetings. They looked hesitant but agreed to lead me to the gates at least.

Two of the dwarves breaks off from the group, one to trot beside me and the other gallops back to Erebor; the rest continue their patrol down the road. I lean on my staff but otherwise walk tall and proud. My leg keeps throbbing. ‘I can’t afford to show weaknesses’.

After an age, we finally exit the treeline. I pause a moment to catch my breath, covering it by pretending to regard the lines of people and Dwarrow eagerly awaiting entry to Erebor. Returning Dwarrow are welcomed quickly, visitors for family next and the merchants last. Sighing I follow the guard’s pony, fully expecting to join the final queue. This resignation turns to pleasant surprise when this is not the case. Instead, I am led straight to the gate.

In the shadows, a burly looking dwarf was waiting. Intricately braided beard, (as was customary), spilling over his crossed arms. “What do you want in Erebor.” Judging by his armour, this was probably the captain of the guard. Once again, I repeated the greetings and asked for shelter and medicine. Reaching down, ignoring the jumpy dwarf beside me, I showed him my bandaged leg. He looked thoughtful, but not as harsh as before. Suddenly, he turns and asks me to follow him, leading me through one of the side doors in the gate.

Once inside, I have to take another breather, eyes darting about. Looking around in wonder at just the entry hall to Erebor. Emeralds were embedded high in the walls, banners of woven gold swaying inside small alcoves. Dwarves and selected humans bustled around, bartering for goods at the various stalls.

He looked at me and the crowd before holding out his hand, I allowed him to lead me through the throng. Even when we left the hall behind and had travelled past three subsequent markets, the sounds did not diminish. Voices echoing on stone in a low hum that refused to fade. I shifted my weight between my feet. Following the dwarf, I started to wonder just how far we would still have to go. ‘Just how big is Erebor.’

Finally, we arrived at a gilded door. My guide knocked and stepped back. Another dwarf eventually opened the door. His clothes had more jewels than my guides, black beard bearing a bead with the royal crest. My guide gestured between us.

“This is prince Thorin. Your highness, this one claims to be a dragon rider.”

“Thank you Dwalin. I can take it from here.” Dwalin bowed his head and marched a little ways away. Standing in a arch nearby. ‘Huh, do I look that dangerous.’

I turned to Thorin and bowed my head. “It is an honour Prince Thorin. I greet you gladly under the old ways.” He bowed his back and gestured that I follow him. Dwalin trailing behind us.

I followed, a limp attempting to show. ‘No! No limping.’

“You will be presented to the king. He will hear you.  I smiled and gestured lightly with my staff.

“Lead the way your highness.”

He pushed through a set of even larger ornate doors and I almost stopped at the vastness of the hall before me. A narrow bridge being the only access point for visitors to approach the grand throne.

I followed Thorin as swiftly as possible. He strode up to the old dwarf sat on the throne and whispered in his ear. Before stepping back to stand another dwarf stood beside the throne.

“His majesty, King Thror of Erebor.” A herald nearby announced.

I bowed my head and stood to my full height. “I am (Y/n) (L/n) of the line of Drakón.” My eyes were drawn to the glowing light hovering just above his head. The Arkenstone. I had heard of it. I could almost hear a soft song coming from within its jewelled depths. I didn’t even notice or feel the fain heat rising in my eyes as they flashed in response to it.

“What is it you need.” Thror glared at me, suspicion all over his face.

I refocused on the dwarven king, doing my best to put on a friendly face. My heartbeat loud in my ears. “I need food and medicine, shelter too if it can be spared. We were attacked by goblins on the way down from the Grey mountains and...”

“We?” Thror interrupted, looking at me sternly.

I sighed and shifted, face morphing into a grimace as a flash of pain ran up my leg. I tried to smile. “Yes. We, being me and my dragon.”

Thror sniffed. “So, where is this dragon.”

“He is waiting for me just beyond the forest, in…”

“Stop!” Thror had leaped to his feet. “You dare bring a dragon within our borders. Do you know of their lust for gold.”

I froze. ‘What is he talking about. Dragon’s with a rider are fine around…’

I cleared my throat. “Yes. As dictated in the old treaty, I haven’t brought him any closer than…”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear any more. Leave.”

I looked at him in disbelief. My gaze finding Thorin’s who looked at me sadly. He turned to look at his Grandfather with a sorrowful gaze.

I looked at Thror. “I’m injured. You can’t just turn me away.”

Thror drew himself up. “I will hear no more of this. Take them.” The guards stepped forward.

“Please follow us.” The guard nearest to me gestured and I gritted my teeth. Turning to walk back the way we had come. It was at that moment, the worst possible moment, that the anaesthetics completely wore off. I collapsed, Dwalin moving to catch me, only just catching myself on my good leg and staff. “Ahh.” I hissed. “I can walk.” I pulled myself up and walked away, leaning heavily on my staff. Just before we left the room, I looked back. Thorin seemed to be whispering something to Thror, who raised a hand and bushed him off. I didn’t bother watching any longer.

I was led outside Erebor and sent on my way. Under the shadow of the gat, the dwarf known as Dwalin apologised to me.

‘I don’t know what he’s apologising for. His King’s a jerk, it’s not his fault.’ I don’t tell him that though. I heard Dwarrow can get particularly techy if you insult their royalty. I limped away.

Just get to Smaug as quick as possible. No need to waste time with them. If we hurry, we might be able to get to make Rivendell. I would go to Greenwood, but their king supposedly has a really big grudge against us at the moment. No need for a repeat of this disaster.

I walked away, only allowing myself the luxury of a limp once I was sure I was out of eyeshot of the gate. The woodland paths seem so much longer the second time round. The world keeps pulsing in strange colours.

I can’t feel my leg anymore. Which would be a bonus due to the absence of pain, but I can’t put any significant weight on it either. Also, there is pain, it’s just higher on my leg now.

Why can I hear my heartbeat. That doesn’t feel normal.

Almost there.

Almost.

Finally. There he is.

“Hey Smaug.”

My voice sounds so far-away. Am I shouting? I can’t tell.

Why does Smaug look so concerned, we can just leave.

When did I kneel? No wait, I’m on the floor.

It’s getting so dark. Cold.

No…wait. There’s warmth and light. It’s coming from that rumbling. It’s tuneful. Is Smaug singing?

Everything’s gone black.

Something’s puling on me. I can feel my legs again. It hurts, but that fades too. Soon I feel nothing.

I can’t see anything beyond this blank void. I can’t feel anything beyond my own flesh.

Have I been sent beyond the world for my pride? Please let me not have followed that accursed path.

I can hear distant screams. The wind, it’s so far away.

What is happening?

Everything has gone calm. The rumbling is back.

Smaug? Is that you?

It is warm.

.

.

.

I’ve been here so long. Drifting. It has been silent for such a long time.  Even that distant beat has faded.

After it all went silent. I could feel a prickling on my back. Am I lying on something. I can’t be. Not floating in this endless dark.

I waited. Where is Smaug?

What happened?

I remember…walking, through endless trees. And Dwarrow. The one who hides his kindness, the one who turned me away and the one who did not speak for me. I remember.

But I have been here so long. How long has it been? They could be dead for all I know…

What’s that? A light. A sound.

I can hear…screaming? There’s a red light. I can hear the wind, it’s been so long since we’ve flown.

Ah. What is this…pain!

It hurts!

My heart!

It hurts!

Make it stop.

Make it stop!

.

.

.

I’m so cold. The warmth is gone. Where? What happened?

Smaug? Smaug!

Can you hear me?

There’s no response. No heat.

I can’t feel anything.

.

.

.

“It is time to wake up.”

I know that voice.

There’s a light. The world around me shifts. The light rushes over me.

I can feel the unforgiving stone beneath my skin. My vision has gone red. Wait, it’s flickering…is there light?

I can feel.

I open my eyes.

Ahh. That hurts. My hands fly up to shield my face.

Wait?

Hands!

I bring them down slowly. There is a face hovering just above mine. I recognise them.

Mithrandir?

Oh no what is he doing here?

Actually, where am I? Where is Smaug?

“Mithrandir?”

My throat hurts. Did I just speak?

“Mithrandir? Where am I?”

That doesn’t sound like my voice. It’s so dusty and creaky; like an old oak tree on the point of death, held up only by the resilience of its stubborn roots.

“Glad to see you awake.”

I look up at Mithrandir in confusion. The distant sounds of voices reach us. Something thick and heavy is placed around my shoulders. Hands pull on my arms and I sit up. The world is dark and misty. Wait…no, I’m inside. All around the walls are stone and dust swirls in the air. Dark, except for the golden glow spilling from an archway and all around us. A dwarf stands besides Mithrandir. He had an honest and open face. Innocent. I like the look of him. He is nervously looking anywhere but me; whilst, holding a bundle of blankets and a water skin.

“Gandalf! Thorin’s awake. Wait…who is that?”

Another small hairless dwarf? No, a halfling, runs into the room. They know Mithrandir as Gandalf; is that his name in common tongue? The halfling looks at me before immediately covering his eyes. Is there something wrong?

I look down. My clothes are in terrible condition. Barely hanging on. I would be completely indecent if not for this cloak/blanket/carpet thing the honest dwarf had placed on me.

I struggle of the stone bench I was on. Drawing the blanket, I’m going to call it a blanket, around me. Looking down, there was a thick layer of dust on the bench. Clearly marking my own outline. I appeared clean enough, so how come there was that much dust. My staff was stood in a crevice beside me. I pulled it out and leant on it.

Mithrandir, or Gandalf as he seems to be known here, asked me to follow him.

“I promise, all will be explained.”

Deciding to trust him, I followed. I had to walk slowly. My body felt loose. Like when you sit in a strange position and you lose all feeling in your legs. Like that but all over. Then came the tingling. And then came the prickly pain, racing up and down my skin with abandon. The innocent looking dwarf had left.

We walked, for what felt like ages. Dark stone and blinding gold. I pad carefully, scales raising on my feet to protect against the sharp edges of gemstones and coins digging into my soles. From time to time we would see a single dwarf roaming the halls. Then two. Then three. It got busier and busier the more gold we passed. A cacophony of sounds began to swell; many voices running together, the clacking of stone on stone, the creak of worn timber.

As we walked, more feeling returned to me. Eventually, all feeling in my body had been restored. Except for the smallest tugging in my chest. Faint and unsteady. Barely there. Like the fluttering heart of a new-born chick, or a man’s last dying breath. ‘Smaug?’ There was no answer. For now, I can do nothing about it, but see where Gandalf leads me.

We soon passed out of the halls of gold. A soft breeze caressing my cheek. The smell of blood and rotting flesh conflicting with the sweet scent of pine leaves carried on the breeze. We must be nearing the outside. But what is that smell. Has there been a battle?

More and more Dwarrow were here now, many humans and a few elves too. Was that one veering the mark of Greenwood? It was lighter too, sunbeams reflecting of gemstones embedded high in the walls. Gandalf darted into an alcove, a side corridor flanked by two dwarvish guards presenting itself to us. I recognised one of them.

“Gandalf. Bilbo. He’s doing better.”

The dwarves’ voice was just as I remembered. I attempted a smile as we passed. Dwalin’s eyes widened upon recognition, hand tightening on his weapon, but he said nothing. Following the wizard, we followed the snaking corridor downwards again. It opened into various rooms, makeshift cots lining the walls and healers walking between them. Some of these healers were armed, daggers hanging openly from their belts.

We passed through, ever journeying. Until finally we reached a set of doors. An elf was arguing with dwarf outside it about’ the proper treatments’. However, upon noticing us they hurriedly stepped out the way, allowing Gandalf and the halfling to push open the doors.

Inside was a tented dome. Curtains separated three cots from each other, only three of the twelve around the room were filled, upon which lay three dwarves. Two of them were unknown to me, but the last one. I remembered him. The dark-haired princeling who couldn’t stand up to his own family. Am I bitter…maybe. I wasn’t back then, but spending an age suspended in darkness does that to you.

Gandalf turned to an elven healer. “Could we prepare a cot for her…” I didn’t hear the rest as I wandered over to the prince’s bedside. He looked terrible, one foot and his ribs were covered in bandages. Bruises and cuts littered his skin. The ugly edge of a line of stitches poked out from the bandages around his chest. And he looked older. Streaks of grey in his hair and stress lines creeping over his face.

Okay, I’ll admit, he looks worse than me. For now, he didn’t seem conscious. I debated whether he would wake up if I pulled his hair into a different arrangement. That stray lock was bothering me. And just who are the other two. This appears to be a royal wing, so they must be important. Looking over the bed, Gandalf was laying a hand on the blond-haired dwarf in one of the other beds and muttering under his breath.

A healer walked up to me. “Follow me please, your bed is here.” I looked at her with a frown.

“Wait, Gandalf?”

“Yes, my dear.” He turned to look at me in that patronising way old people do. Smiling as I was marched to a bed and sat down. My staff propped up besides the pillow.

“Why do I need to see a healer?” Admittedly, asking the question was a fruitless endeavour since the healer had already begun to check my bones for breaks. He chuckled.

“You have been asleep for 60 years my dear. They’re just checking to make sure you’re alright.”

My mouth fell open at that. How long?! “What!? How?”

“It appears your dragon placed a sleeping spell on you.”

“Why.”

“I daresay. You will be able to acquire those answers from Thorin Oakenshield when he wakes.”

“Now Gandalf…wait!”

But he was already gone. The halfling received a diagnosis from one of the healers and then left as well. The Dwarrowdam had finished checking me over and asked me to rest, absentmindedly redoing a stray braid in her beard as the Elleth came over with some Athalas.

Placing it in a bowl and lighting it, soon the sweet, calming fragrance began to fill the infirmary. The two unknown dwarves softly stirred in their sleep before sighing and growing still. I looked to the prince’s bed. He grumbled and opened his eyes. The Dwarrow healer assured him as to his injuries healing and then left to fetch some food. He glanced around, huffing fondly at the sight of the other two heavily bandaged dwarves before looking my way.

He stiffened. Eyes blown wide in shock. I sat on my cot and watched him. Neither breaking eye contact until he whispered. “Are you real or some imaginary shade?” His voice was course but strong. I leaned forward.

“I wake up in Erebor, to find it in ruins and the prince crowned King, confused beyond belief, injuries gone, my dragon nowhere to be found, and you can’t come up with something a little more imaginative then to ask me if I’m real. Of course I’m real. I’m not dead.”

Thorin gaped at my sarcastic hiss. He searched for his words, biting his lips nervously before his face hardens. “If you are alive...then why did your dragon attack us?”

“Uh…” I didn’t have an answer for that. “That’s actually news to me.”

Thorin looked sceptical. “News…to you. I am not a fool Drake-ascen (taken from fire-drake (dragon) and the Latin ascensor for rider/charioteer), so do not take me for one.”

I bristled, skin prickling. “I speak the truth. I do not know what has happened to your home or Smaug.”

A hot burning grew in my eyes and I could feel the tears welling. Upon noticing this he seemed to soften slightly. “Smaug attacked the mountain and drew my people out. We wandered for years in poverty. Then when we reclaimed the mountain an army of orcs arrived, but we killed them. And that brings us up to now.”

I could almost feel the pain in those memories. Remembering the ruins we had come through, it made sense that something as powerful as Smaug had attacked. But there was a heavy feeling in my heart.

“But you have reclaimed the mountain now. After I left Erebor, I remember succumbing to my wounds and then darkness. Which is why I’m asking you, now, what has happened. What happened to my dragon? Where is Smaug? Maybe we can settle things peacefully. You drove him out somehow, so where did he go.”

Thorin looked grim. “He fled to Laketown…where he was shot down with a black arrow by the new king of Dale.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Winded. I couldn’t breathe. ‘Smaug? Smaug! Answer me dammit.’ I glared at Thorin with as much anger as I could muster. Before bursting into tears. I stood up, grabbed my staff and marched over to his bedside. He looked at me blankly.

“How can you just…he can’t be dead. Why would you kill him!”  I raised my staff, fire collecting on the end of it. He glanced at the flames fearfully. The healer left in the room with us screamed and ran to get the guard.

“He attacked us after you left.” My mind was so jumbled. I was trying to make sense of it all before really looking at the fire on my staff. Wait, I reached out to the flames, they were cold. These shouldn’t be cold, they are connected too... No…it can’t be. I collapsed to my knees. Tears falling so fast I couldn’t see anything but the blurred outline of the one who told me MY dragon was DEAD.

Please no.

I felt a hand gently grip my shoulder. I wiped my tears and looked up into the dwarf’s eyes. A streak of blue sadness fell from his gaze. “I am truly sorry we didn’t help you back then. But I can promise you this.” I moved his hand from my shoulder, but he gripped my hand in his and rolled over on creaking ribs to confront me, “I will do everything in my power to make sure you are cared for this time. Anything you need, just ask.”

I drew myself up, tapping my staff on the ground to send a shower of sparks racing across the floor and walls; a thunder of scarlet flew around us. Thorin pushed himself to sit up, with equal parts fear and awe in his eyes. The doors flew open and Dwalin, both healers, some other Dwarrow, and an Elf I have only ever seen an old portrait of, run inside, freezing upon seeing the flowing light surrounding the room.

“Thorin Oakenshield, if you truly mean to repay me for my loss, I will do more than ask…I command you, do what you have promised, and…permit me to aid in repairing the damages Smaug has wrought.”

I offered my hand. An odd respect flowed behind his eyes as he took it. The light swirled faster before retreating into my staff. I sat down on my own cot and looked to our stricken audience. The elf King Thranduil regarded me curiously, while the Dwarrow looked to their King for instruction. His hands flickered and they all relaxed leaving the room.

“That was quite a performance Drake-ascen.” He looked about to say something but the elleth seemed to have recovered her wits and so both healers turned on him. Bustling the elven king out of the room and rushing to check on the two who had remained oblivious to the whole event.

“My nephews.” I looked to Thorin curiously and smiled. “I can’t wait to meet them properly.” Feeling tired, I lay down. Why am I tired if I’ve been asleep for so long? Closing my eyes, I focused on the tiny tug in my chest.

‘Come on Smaug…where are you?’

[theincaprincess]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Learn more about your mutuals and followers 💕✨

1, My family

2, My pets

3, The sound of pouring rain at night

4, Watching the sunset/rise

5, And the direction my life is currently going in 😁

I’m just awake after a nightshift at work so I’m just gonna tag 10 people instead of searching 😂

Tagging @deepestfirefun @blankdblank @catthefearless @soradragon @moonfaery @lady-of-lies @luna-xial @xxbyimm @c-s-stars @thophil2941btw

[stars-for-thought]

The First Morning

@sdavid09’s Daily Writing Challenge

Character: Fíli

Fandom/Series: The Hobbit

Tale Teller’s Daily Writing Challenge

Prompt #1

Today is the first day of the challenge! So, tell us one of your character’s favorite firsts.

——

The First Morning

There have been many ‘firsts’ in Fíli’s life, some are good and some are bad. They all had an impact on his life in some way.

There was the first time he held his baby brother, the first time he forged his first weapon, his first training lesson, his first hunting trip, and so many other things.

Out of all of them, his favorite First was braiding his One’s hair.

He and Kíli had spent hours upon hours over many years designing and crafting beads and clasps with their symbols and markers. How they had practiced their braids and styles on each other until perfected, ready to be done when their One was finally found.

He remembers that first morning, the morning after their wedding. Waking to Mallory sleeping in his arms. He can recall the sleepy kisses and wandering hands, knows they woke Kíli up who joined him in pleasuring their Wife.

They eventually got up to wash and eat and (mostly) get dressed.

He can still feel the nervous excitement that he felt as they finally sat down to do their hair.

He vividly remembers pulling Mallory from Kíli’s grasp as he finished adding his braids into her hair. He thinks of her in between his legs, her back against his chest, his fingers gently running through her red curls. He recalls the giddy joyful feeling that bubbled inside of him as he began to braid her hair for the first time, braiding each braid that fell against his brothers own. Each one symbolizing that she was their wife, part of the royal family, and many other things.

He smiles at the memory of her hands in his own hair, Kíli’s larger hands wrapped around hers as he helps guide her in braiding Fíli’s hair.

He feels the rush of love recalling it all. Her soft voice as they talk, her hands in his as he helps her braid Kíli’s hair, their lips meeting again and again as the three fall back into bed together.

Even after all this time he stills feels all of those emotions every morning and every time he braids her hair, but nothing will be as powerful or wonderful as that first time.

[emilyymichelle]

First Fight

Challenge: @sdavid09 Daily Writing Challenge! A masterlist will be created for the challenge in the next few days. All May I will be writing fics centered around The Hobbit's Dwalin!

Prompt 1: favorite firsts

Word count: 900

A/N: let me know if you want to be added to a taglist! I have one for the hobbit and one for Supernatural, but can create one for this challenge as well!

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

"Dwalin?" Y/N asked tentatively to the only dwarf awake with her.

"Hmmmph" was his only response. He didn't even glance at her, just continued to keep watch over the camp.

"Have you and Thorin ever fought over a girl?" Dwalin looked over at her and raised an eyebrow at the question. "I was just curious. I mean you have been friends forever. And I know stuff like that can happen. It was probably stupid to ask. You can ign..." Y/N rambled before Dwalin cut her off.

"It only happened once."

"Oh. What happened?" She prompted, turning to face him better.

"We are supposed to be keeping watch, lass."

"I know." She pouted. "But it's boring! Talking will help keep us awake."

"It will also cover the sound of approaching enemies."

She rolled her eyes and huffed at him, "Fine. Be that way." Y/N turned back around. "I was only trying to get to know you better."

He chuckled at her antics, "It was quite some time ago. I don't remember everything that happened."

"Was she pretty? Did you both know her? Who liked her first?"

"She was very handsome. And no we didn't know her. She was a barmaid at a tavern in Dale." Y/N scooted closer to Dwalin to hear him better. "We had seen her a few times, and both fell beard over boots for her."

"Aaaaand?" She smiled up at him. "Did one of you confess to her?"

"Not exactly." Dwalin laughed. "It led to our first real fight with each other." Y/N gasped. "We didn't know the other fancied her. But we found out one night after too many ales at that tavern."

Y/N opened her mouth to prod him to continue, but Fili and Bofur got up to take over watch. She whipped her head around to Dwalin, "We'll finish this conversation later, sir." Dwalin could only laugh and shake his head at her before heading to bed, leaving two very confused dwarves to stay on watch.

-----

It was three days later before Y/N and Dwalin were alone together again. And she wasted no time in begging him to continue.

"Alright, lass, calm down. It really isn't that exciting."

"Yes it is!" She answered back. "Now. Let's continue! You two got drunk and the truth came out!"

Dwalin laughed at her enthusiasm and started the story again. "Well, we were enjoying ourselves, and the barmaid came by with more drinks. A traveler that was passing through made some crude remarks about her, and both Thorin and I rushed to defend her."

"Really?"

"Aye. We grabbed the man by his tunic and took him outside to... have a talk."

" 'Have a talk', my ass. You punched him right?"

"Aye. We punched him."

"Good! He deserved it!"

"If you're done, I'll continue the story." Y/N nodded her head enthusiastically, and Dwalin kept talking. "After taking care of him, I announced that I was going to let her know that I had defended her honor. But Thorin took offence to that."

"I mean, it was a group effort."

"Well, that's not how either of us saw it. Thorin said HE had defended her honor and that HE would be going back in to talk to her. And that he was going to ask her out."

"What did you do?"

"I swung at him."

"No!" She gasped.

"Aye." He chuckled. "We scuffled, but the owner of the tavern broke it up. Said we were being too loud and that we should take it home."

"What did you do?"

"We went home."

"And then what?"

"And we never spoke again. We actually hate each other." Dwalin said with a blank face.

"You're a terrible liar." Y/N sassed back.

"Alright. We avoided each other for a few days before Balin forced us to talk. We avoided the subject of the barmaid for a while, but it eventually came up. We realized we didn't even know her, and that our friendship was more important than some stupid fight. It helped us later whenever little things came up. One of us will mention that dumb fight, and we will put our pride aside to stay friends." Dwalin shrugged. "Turned out she was married to the tavern owner anyways, so it was all for nothing."

"Who apologized first?" Y/N questioned.

"You know I don't think either of us ever formally apologized."

"Ugh. Typical men." Y/N stood up, but pointed at Dwalin. "You stay here."

She came back 15 minutes later with Thorin in tow.

"Lass. What are you doing?" Dwalin lamented.

"Thorin, Dwalin has something he would like to say to you." She turned to Dwalin expectantly. But he did not respond. "Look here, sir, I have all day." Y/N said with hands on her hips.

"Fine." Dwalin stood up, rolled his eyes, and shook Thorin's hand. "I'm sorry for punching you forever ago over that barmaid we both fancied." He turned to Y/N, "Satisfied?"

"Almost." Y/N turned to Thorin. "Anything you would like to say?"

"Uhm, I guess I'm sorry too?" Thorin said. "What is going on here though?" He said looking between the pair.

"I'm just mending friendships is all. You two are welcome." She announced before heading back to camp.

"I didn't realize what we were getting ourselves into, taking her into the company." Thorin said turning to Dwalin.

"Aye. But I think she is exactly what we need." Dwalin responded clapping Thorin's shoulder. "We should head back before she causes more trouble."

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

Taglist: @jotink78 @ghicadiana @princessofthefandomrealm

[fizzyxcustard]

Oh, dear Lord, I’ve opted to join @sdavid09‘s Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge. Wish me luck. Hahaha! I’m still a little unsure how it’s all working, so any guidance from all of you involved would be wonderful. 

Any writers on here, I strongly recommend you go and check it out. It’s only one piece per week, which isn’t too hard to achieve, I don’t think. 

[peachchai]

MasterPost - Daily Writing Challenge

So I decided to join @sdavid09‘s Tale Teller’s daily writing challenge for the month of May. I joined with Dean Winchester. So enjoy!~

Prompt 1

Prompt 2

Prompt 3

Prompt 4

Prompt 5

[foxrun-fluffery]

The Greatest Distance

My attempt entry into @sdavid09​‘s wild Plot Bunny Challenge! I adopted Plot Bunny #59!  

What happens when the company of Thorin Oakenshield ends up in our world? How will you cope?

Considering I can’t write first person to save my damn life, I’ve added an OC... who had a lot of inspiration based on a certain someone (and those who realize who can just shut up). 

Without further ado, here we go...

                                         CHAPTER ONE

NEXT CHAPTER

“How is it possible for people and places to change so entirely that they lose any connection with what they used to be? Can a man adapt to new things and new places without losing a part of himself?”

—Abdelrahman Munif

“Oi, Nori, put that down!” Dori barked at his brother, his hands still swatting Ori’s away from the stack of foreign books. He felt doubly frazzled, having to keep an eye on his troublesome brothers, on top of all that had happened.

While that was going on, Bombur had sneaked a peek into a cupboard in the adjacent room, and licked his lips when he spotted a box of brightly colored pastries.

“Uh-uh!” Bofur interjected, reaching past his brother to shut the cupboard door. “Ye were tol’ t’ leave tha’ alone!” He grumbled, shaking his head. “Ye jus’ ate!” And he waved his hand to the emptied boxes of food on the table. “Eh yeah, what was tha’ called again?” His eyes scanned the crowded room for their hostess, but she and their leader still hadn’t returned yet. Whatever it was, he sure wished he could get the recipe for his brother. Bombur was a master at recreating dishes.

Meanwhile Fíli and Kíli were pushing one another about beside the hallway mirror, trying on hats from the top of the coat rack. “Here, here, try this one! Haha!” They laughed over each oddly shaped and strangely colored headwear, modeling them in the mirror.

“No way! It makes my hair stick out weird! You try it!” Fíli pulled the hat his younger brother had crammed onto his head back off and returned the favor, shoving it on top of his brothers darker locks. “Aye, there.”

Oin was seated on the sofa, watching everything going on, only heading half of it. “Bats? Nah, lads no bats in here. Too bright!”

Hearing his brother, Gloin rolled his eyes and went on with his grumbling about their misfortune. “Who doesn’a use gold coin! It’s no’ natural!” Harrumphing again, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Don’t trust folk who don’t use good coin!”

Bifur was, of course, the quietest of the bunch. He was sitting to the side of all the commotion, curiously inspecting a little toy, a bright red cart-like gizmo, with a ladder on the back. When he pressed a square button on it, the ladder would shoot out, telescoping out from the back of the cart. He could only see half of the mechanism, and was horribly curious about it. Maybe… maybe if he took it apart, he could see how it worked, and he would most definitely have it fixed up right proper before anyone was the wiser. With a light of glee in his eyes, he went off to fetch his tools from his pack.

Dwalin, ever the stoic, stood with a scowl on his face, watching all of their company and the antics they were getting up to. He rolled his eyes at more than a few, and kept a sharp watch on a few others. “Nori,” he growled after Dori had left the middle Ri brother to help the younger, “Put that back.”

Nori slipped a little figurine back onto the shelf beside him and ducked his head with a sheepish grin.

Then there was Bilbo. Poor, sweet, horribly discomfited Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire. He had seen this all before, back when he had been the unwitting victim of Dwarvish drop-ins. Of course that was all before, before they had left Middle Earth.

That very thought sent shivers down to his curly haired toes. They had left Middle Earth. He didn’t even know that was possible. He didn’t even know there were other worlds! Sure, some weird fantasy novels claimed such things, but that was fantasy, not reality! It simply wasn’t possible. No. Not at all. But, try as he might, sitting sullenly on the sofa near Oin, with his hands balled into fists on his lap, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, he couldn’t deny where they were. Another world. A futuristic world. Everything was so strange, so surreal. Nothing made sense.

The entire room full jumped when a loud ringing noise sounded out, half of them drawing hidden weapons and looking for the cause.

Dwalin stared at a small rectangular device set upright on the counter, and the shrill ringing coming from it. He reached out cautiously, ignoring a few words of warning sent his way, and picked it up. Quietly, a voice spoke from it. “This is Generations Pediatrics calling, regarding your appointment for Monday, June 5th at. 4:30 pm. Please press one to confirm.” The balded dwarf looked up at the others, seeing a few guestures for him to do something although no one seemed to agree as to what. He recognized the numerical symbols as Westeron numbers, but wasn’t sure what he should do. Obviously the message was not for them, but their hostess. Don’t want to make her miss an appointment. Slowly he reached out and pressed one. The voice spoke again. “Thank you! Please be sure to have your insurance, ID, and medical cards with you. Have a great day.”

“Thanks?” He replied, “You as well…” then there was silence and, under the scrutinizing gaze of his companions, he set the strange device down again. It beeped as he returned it to the stand. Blinking at it, rather owlishly, the tough warrior felt uncertain. This whole place was strange.

There was a sound outside, a rumbling noise, and wheels crunching on the gravel. Every member of the company looked up, towards the door. Their leader and their hostess were finally returning.

Bofur piped up then, “I thought they were back an hour ago!”

“No, that was just another one of them machines goin’ by!” Nori corrected.

A murmuring ran through the group as the door opened, first admitting… a walking pile of bags? This was followed shortly by Thorin Oakenshield, with a small human boy on his hip. He had, in years past, carried both Fili and Kili that way. No longer wearing the regal clothing he had been, he was instead in a blue plaid shirt and a pair of denim trousers. His boots he’d had to keep, but he seemed to fit in much better with this new world. He set the child down, and the boy, a tall lad of four and a half, grabbed onto the back of his mother’s coat.

“Hey, it’s okay, wait love, lemme get this… stuff down…” The woman brought the bags over to the coffee table, setting them all down. “Okay, we got clothes for everyone!” She said, standing up straight and looking at her very unexpected houseguests. Slowly she exhaled, a strand of her hair dancing with her breath. “Right, now, Thorin help me get this sorted out, I’m forgetting who gets what… oh where’s.. Ah, Balin, here’s your coat.” She handed it to the dwarf who came into the room behind herself and Thorin. He was wearing something not dissimilar to Thorin, though his shirt was a deep maroon, not as deep as his own shirt had been, but it wasn’t too unlike it. There was thin stripes of gold colored thread running through it. It was a clean cut button up shirt, that their hostess had remarked to it being similar to what her own grandfather would wear. He had chosen to take that as a compliment, mostly because of her sweet smile as she had briely reminisced. She turned to face the dark haired dwarf again, “I think we got the tags off, but you might wanna check first.” The modern-dressed dwarf gave a nod, recalling how she had removed certain clipped on papers and adhesive strips from the clothing he now wore, and helped her sort through their purchases. While he did that, he thought back to what had brought them here, to this very strange land.

Gandalf. Of course.

                   “Gandalf!” Thorin’s deep rough voice called out to the wizard who stood some ways from their camp one night. “Where are you going?” “Hm?” The gray garbed man turned to look at Thorin, “Nowhere. I am… I am going nowhere.” His long wiry eyebrows knit together in consternation. “Which is exactly the problem.”

Frowning at the cryptic words, Thorin approached him. “Is there something wrong?” He kept his piercing blue gaze on the tall man’s face, though he had quickly learned his stare did little to break through to the wizard, as it did on most other people. Most. “Oh, there is something very, very wrong, Master Dwarf, very wrong indeed.” The wizard huffed, tamping his knuckles against his beard, then stroking it as though to calm himself. “This isn’t right… not at all. It doesn’t feel right…” “If you’re having second thoughts about this quest, it’s perhaps too late now.” Thorin grumbled, crossing his arms and raising a brow as he wondered what in Mahal’s name the strange man could mean.

“Gandalf?” Another voice piped up from towards the camp. Bilbo was making his way over. “Is everything alright?” “I’m afraid not, my dear Bilbo. Something has gone terribly wrong, things are not as they should be suddenly. In a way I cannot explain.” He fretted a bit more before he turned to face them. “I need some time to gather my thoughts and sort this out… get some rest, all of you.” Wizards, Thought Thorin, I wonder if the world isn’t better off without their kind. He did give the source of this new headache a nod, then turned back to camp. “Bofur, you’re on watch. Let’s turn in.” He cast one last glance at Gandalf, watching him pace a bit to and fro, before he returned to his bedroll, patting Fili’s shoulder as he passed the brothers. “Fili, you can relieve Bofur for second watch. Dwalin will take third.” Everyone agreed, and aside from Bofur, they all laid down to get some rest, eager to sleep after a very long day on their ponies.

One of the number, however, could not get to sleep. Even after the dwarves around him were snoring peacefully, or as peaceful as dwarves could snore, for he determined that more than a few of them sounded fierce even in their sleep, Bilbo lay wide awake, until the second night watch was near over. He turned this way and that, but it was to no avail. Sleep simply would not come to him. He rose, silent in the way of hobbits, and walked over to Gandalf, lighting his pipe once he was there beside his friend. “Have you sorted anything out yet?” Gandalf hummed before answering, “Yes… but I do not like the look of it.”

“Can you tell me?” Turning to look down at the hobbit, the wizard pondered briefly if it would do any good. “I suppose I may.” He glanced up, aware that Bofur was near enough to hear them, but he relented that it did not matter. They would all know soon enough. “Some fell magic has changed the flow of time.” “Uhm.. what?” Bilbo asked in utter confusion. “That… that can’t happen… can it?” Mirthlessly the wizard laughed quietly, “There is much that can happen that you do not know about, Bilbo Baggins.” He huffed through his beard, shaking his head. “I cannot address this with all of you in tow, however it seems to have fixed itself upon this company.” His lips pressed into a thin line for a moment. “Yes, I know what I must do. However, I think none of you shall like it very much at all. No you shan’t.”

“Oy wha’s this now?” Bofur had made his way over. “Seems you ought t’ be tellin’ the lads all, hm? Somethin’ comin’ after us, we should know!” He protested, though kept his voice hushed. If it wasn’t something worth waking the others just yet, he didn’t want to be in trouble with everyone. But he was ready to give a good shout, just the same.

Turning to look at the hatted dwarf, Gandalf arched a brow at his bold statements. “It will become all too clear in short order, however you are right, I should address this issue immediately. Rouse the others!” Waving the dwarf off, he looked at Bilbo, brows slowly lifting, “It seems you are going on a grander adventure than I first believed.” “I’m what now?” Bilbo sputtered, but the dwarves were waking at Bofur’s calls, and he could only watch in unsettled dismay as Gandalf left him to return to the camp. He huffed and stomped his foot in vain, missing his armchair and books very much in that moment. He just wanted to sit down on a soft cushion with a good book, and forget this nonsense! Too late for that. He hurried back when he heard Thorin begin to shout. “What is the meaning of this!?” The dwarven king rose, still gripping his weapon. “Why do you wake us, Bofur? There is no attack!” “Because I told him to.” Gandalf said, in his loudest shout, full of exasperation, sparing Bofur from the short tempered Oakenshield’s anger. He stood fast as those sharp blue eyes turned upon him instead. “You must all be prepared, immediately!” “Prepared for what?” Ori asked, still half asleep and confused. Dori shushed him, setting a hand on Ori’s shoulder, “Quiet now!” His attention, like that of all the others, was fully on Gandalf then.

Gandalf sighed, wishing he could explain this better, but with little knowledge to the workings of things beyond their world, it would take much more time than he felt they had. “There has been a shift in the flow of time. Someone does not want this quest to succeed, I fear. Someone beyond my knowledge.” He noted how Thorin’s expression darkened, but continued anyway. Stubborn fool of a dwarf! “It has happened before, though I daresay not for some time, not as you see it anyway. There is no other recourse but to remove you, the lot of you, until it is straightened out.”

“Remove us!?” A number of dwarves shouted in aghast or angry voices.

“Listen!” Gandalf cried, though it went unheard as all of the company began in uproar. His grip on his staff tightened as he tried to hold his own temper.

“Shazara!” Thorin bellowed, looking at his gathered company as they fell silent around him. “Explain yourself, wizard,” he nearly spat.

Still so very tired of dealing with this temperamental dwarf, Gandalf steadied himself with a sigh, and both hands on his staff. “There is much that I cannot tell you, even more yet that you would not understand, and I fear I have little time to tell you what I may. You will all be removed from this world,” He quickly held up a hand to forestall any interruptions. “Temporarily. Temporarily removed from this world and this timeline. Then you will return here, not mere seconds past the time you depart. How long you will spend in this other realm, I do not know, time does not flow equally. But you will return. So long as you do not die there.” “Die?” Bilbo qualied.

Casting him a sympathetic glance, Gandalf continued. “I will send you somewhere safe. Or rather, relatively safe, so long as you obey the laws of the land, and do not cause a stir.”

Nori suspiciously eyed everyone around him. Them, not cause a stir? They were doomed… He looked across and saw his friend, Bofur, who, judging by his expression, was thinking the same thing.

“It is a place I have been to before,” Gandalf attempted to assure them. “It is a safe place. Though, I cannot guess where exactly you will arrive, or who you shall meet there. But if you keep your heads down and do not draw attention to yourselves, you will be fine.” He told them, mumbling softly under his breath, “I hope.” He knew Bilbo heard him at the concerned look he received. “It is a land very unlike this one, they have progressed to a point such as we would think of a distant future, and it is a land in which combat is not treated the same as here. They are more peaceful and less violent. And there are no dwarves!” Not in the way that would make any sense to the company. “Sounds like yer sending us to the elves!” Dwalin growled.

“No, there will be no elves there. Nor any other non-human race.” Gandalf assured him, though he saw the discomfort in all of them and heard their murmured dismay. In a moment he was reminded of the behaviors of toddlers and small children. This brought a quirk to the corner of his mouth. That at least gave him a vague guide.

“No elves… no dwarves!” Ori gasped, sending a ripple through the little crowd.

“Only humans, how miserable!” Gandalf couldn’t quite tell who had said that, but he suspected it was either Oin or Gloin, and the quietness of the rumbled opinion gave him the belief it was Gloin.

“Those poor people!” Bofur muttered in pitying dismay.

“Will… will you be coming?” Bilbo asked, his softer voice managing to be heard through the others talking amongst themselves now.

Looking down at Bilbo, rue in his gaze, he shook his head. “I am afraid not. I must maintain the magic to the portal you will take from this end. The world you are going to has no magic left.” He wasn’t surprised by those gasps of shock. “There is not even memory of it. It is best not to discuss it too openly.” He looked to the others again, “I suggest you find yourselves an ally as quickly as you can, someone you feel you can trust.”

“How can we trust any of them?” Thorin snarled at the wizard.

“You will have little other choice if you wish to survive. And survive you must.” Gandalf looked up towards the sky, and his eyes moved, tracking things the others could not hope to see. “Ready yourselves. Leave but the barest necessities, they will be here when you return.”

“R-right, because time w-w-won’t pass here…” The voice of the hobbit was tremulous at best.

“Good fellow!” Gandalf smiled to him then. “Keep your wits about you. They are more peaceful, but less understanding, on a whole. A few bright souls still exist that would aid you. You will have to find one. When it is time for you to return, you will see the portal again. Walk through it.” “What if we’re asleep!?” Bofur objected, starting to sound panicked. Gandalf shook his head, “You will not sleep through it, that much I assure you.” His head snapped up and he nodded, “It is time. Come now, take only what you need.” And he fixed Fili with a stern look. “Only take a few daggers, if you please.” “I always do!” The older of the two princes grinned cheekily.

Bilbo started for his things and came to a stop, turning to face Gandalf, his curiosity giving him some semblance of confidence in his words. “Gandalf… surely if you have the power to do something like this… surely you could complete this journey without us.” Thorin seemed almost startled by the hobbit’s question, and he whirled to Gandalf then, his eyes expressing the same curiosity for the answer. “Yes, do tell us why you can do this, but not aid more than you have, or intend.”

Looking over at them and huffing, drawing his lips far up in a frown, Gandalf shook his head, “This is not my doing, nor my magic that can do this task. I am merely marking the target, as it were. Now, hurry and prepare!”

Soon the company stood, huddled together in unease, each carrying one pack, wearing their warmest cloak, and holding one blanket. A few carried visible weapons, against Gandalf’s recommendation, and the wizard and hobbit both were certain more than a few, if not all, carried numerous hidden weapons.

Gandalf looked them over. “Remember what I said, cause no trouble, and stay alive!” With one last uncertain glance at the company, he turned away, to face the dawning light. Raising his staff, he brought it down to the earth, aligning it just so for a second, and in a moment the rays of the dawn sunlight gleamed through the tangled wooden roots of the tip of the tall shaft. The end of the staff began to glow, and it grew brighter, and brighter, and brighter still.

It was blinding by the time the dwarves and hobbit realized that not only could they hardly see each other, they felt as nearly sickening pull on their whole bodies, seeming to stretch them beyond themselves. It didn’t hurt, but it gave every one of them a sense of terror that, could they have but moved in that instant, would have sent even the bravest of them fleeing. Just when it seemed they could no longer stand it… it got worse.

Reality folded upon itself, creating a wrinkle in the fabric of space and time, connecting two very distant points. What this felt like to the dwarves cannot be truly put into the words of any mortal creature, for the words do not yet exist. Though as the rare travelers such as these go, upon his arrival at their destination, Bilbo put it in the best yet description.

“Nope.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[percywinchester27]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 Rainbow of love! Hope you are having an amazing day!

If I talk to you, the day automatically becomes amazing!! You are like my rainbow, stars and unicorn all mixed in one <3 

Hope you are having a fantastic day! <3

I love you!

[spnfamilybirthdays]

Hey @sdavid09

HAPPY HALF-BIRTHDAY!

We hope your half-birthday is wonderful, and we want you to know that the SPN Family loves you!

[lazilymysticalzombie]

Barge in (change my life, honey)

Daily Writing Challenge by @sdavid09  -  Prompt #2:

Prompt: Sometimes, your character let’s their mind drift away to ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only’. Write your character living in one of those scenarios.

Pairing: Tony Stark/reader

MASTERLIST

_____________________________________________________

Barge in (change my life, honey)

Tony Stark doesn’t regret things. He is an inventor, creator, pioneer. He doesn’t look back, but bravely meets the burning gaze of the Future. Challenges it. Conquers it.  

He simply doesn’t have time think ‘what if’ and ‘if only’’.

Tony, on the other hand, regrets a lot of things.  

He regrets, that he became colder to his mother during his teenager days, partly blaming her for his father mistakes, partly wanting to show them that ‘Stark men are made of iron’ and that he doesn’t need emotions. He should have been telling her that he loved her every single day.  

He regrets, that he didn’t reel himself in after his parents’ death, that he trusted Obadiah and let his company turn into an illegal weapon seller. He should have closed that branch ages ago, turn his legacy into a green power like it is now and never, never allow it to become tainted with blood of the innocents.  

He regrets, that he can’t keep Spiderman safe when the kid flies through the city on his spiderweb, fighting petty crime and deserving churros. Initially, Tony wanted to wrap Peter in bubble wrap and keep him hidden in the workshop, but Y/N said that’s kind of illegal.

So, yes. Tony Stark doesn’t do ‘what ifs’, but Tony definitely does.  

Like right now.  

He is sitting in his workshop, surrounded with blue screens with complicated blueprints displayed on them, a screwdriver in his hand and a very sleepy super soldier in front of him. Ideas were buzzing in his head, begging to be unleashed and used in creating something magnificent. He smiled up at Bucky and took a sip of his cold coffee.  

- How would you like a mechanical saw hidden in your arm? Like in that movie Y/N made us watch last weekend? What was it... ‘Treasure Island’?

- Ugh, - groaned Bucky, tiredly rubbing his eyes. His body might be ready for an assignment at every hour of the day, thanks to torture and regime imposed on him by HYDRA, but his mind was lately rebelling, preferring sleep and rest to workouts and fatigue. - I believe it was called ‘Treasure Planet’.

- Right! Of course! - Tony exclaimed happily, rolling away on his chair. - A good movie, too. Highly innovative. Packed with ideas. Sooo, do you fancy being like this John Silver fella? You’d never be defenseless.

- I’m hardly ever defenseless.

- Humpf. Fine. But when something happens do not come here and complain. - Tony shoot him a smirk and then turned to the door. - Honey! You are awake!

- As are you, I see. - Y/N said, slightly amused. - Bucky, are you alright? I know you don’ like the early hours.

Bucky looked at her with appreciation and then, without a word, stood up and headed towards the door.  

- Where are you going, Bucky-bear? We aren’t finished yet!

- Yes, you are, Tony. You need sleep. Now. - Y/N said with in a firm voice. - You’ll play when you wake, I’m sure Buck will be thrilled to help you.  

Barnes snorted, but winked at Tony before leaving the room. Tony scoffed at his girlfriend, stood up and looked around his workshop. His eyes took in the mess this room was; coffee cups, spilled oil and bits of metal laying here and there. He also noticed little trinkets that littered the place; photos he took during the vacation in Paris last year, with Y/N smiling face and Bucky’s grumpy frown on them; the stupid knitted helmet Bucky made him (apparently, knitting was very relaxing for the fearsome, former Fist of HYDRA) and cards for the Father’s Day that Y/N painstakingly prepared for him with Dum-E, U and Jarvis.

Tony for a moment wondered, what would have happened if Y/N didn’t one day barge into his life, show him the lies he was surrounded with (along with making him help Barnes and forgiving him) and then making out of all those broken, lonely people a family ready to defend each other to death. 

He decided; he doesn’t want to know – there is no way he would ever regret this.

[fandomoniumflurry]

You Named the Dog Dean?

Jo Harvelle, Dean the Dog, Dean Winchester, Bobby, Sam

for @sdavid09 daily writing challenge

Prompt 18: your character decides they need a pet. How does that go?

1.6k words no warnings

taggers: @becs-bunker @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @lukecastellamz

People handle grief in a lot of different ways. Whether be healthy or toxic, everyone has a unique way of coping. There is no sure fire way to cure a broken heart and sometimes not even time heals all wounds. But life goes on and the world keeps turning and all that shit that everyone says when someone has suffered a great loss. Even with support and love and care, some wounds never heal. We will forever wear the scars of our past pains.

Jo had no warning when Dean died. For a whole year, he had known he was going to Hell and he never told her. The last time they had seen each other might not have been the most amicable of partings but she thought they were at least friends. She thought she was worth a phone call. Instead, she had to hear it from Bobby. The day Sam had shown up at his door telling him that Dean was gone. Not even Sam had called her. It was the last thing she had ever expected to hear.

Sure their life was hard and at any moment their life could be taken from them. But hearing that Dean had willingly given up his life for his brother. He knew that he had one year before his soul would be dragged to Hell. The fact that he knew and never said anything, never even bothered to give her a heads up. No, she had to get a random phone call in the middle of the afternoon while she was in the middle of a shift at the bar. She had to hear it from Bobby’s lips that Dean Winchester was gone, done in by Hellhounds and now he was rotting away in hell for all eternity. That is sure to knock the breath right out of ya.

At first, she was in shock, standing behind the bar with her cell to her ear and her hand over her mouth. The more the old man spoke, the more it settled in, the more she realized that he was gone. Not just gone but in Hell. The tears started slow at first, just moisture in her eyes. The moment she hung up the phone, she blinked them away before she slid her phone into her pocket. She called out to the other bartender, waving them over to let them know she needed some fresh air. As soon as she breathed in the cold breeze, she cracked. Sobs wracked her body as she fell to her knees in the back alley of the bar. She had not known him long but he had become important to her and now he was gone.

As time passed, she found it hard to get him off her mind. For so long, he had inhabited her daydreams and fantasies but now he was star of her nightmares and despair. She was no longer the spunky feisty bartender that she once was, her patrons noticing the difference in her demeanor at work. She had trouble sleeping and she had to force herself to eat. She hadn’t realized how much she cared about him til he was no longer in this world. Thinking about all the lost time with him only made it worse.

Her friend suggested dating, getting out there and meeting new people. If not dating, just get out and make some friends. But she was always the freak with a knife collection. There was no one out there that would want to be friends with her. Who would possibly date her? And she didn’t want a hunter. At least not one that wasn’t Dean. So she denied going out to the club, refused blind dates, any form of socializing that her coworkers suggested.

But there was one suggestion that actually sparked Jo’s interest. Get a pet, they had said. Someone to come home to and snuggle up to after a bad day, someone to talk to that wouldn’t talk back. Someone that would love her and be with her no matter what. Someone to give her kisses and cuddles and unconditional love without asking for anything in return. At first, the thought didn’t seem appealing. Cleaning up after a creature, buying food and grooming. It all seemed like too much work to a part time barmaid, part time hunter. But coming home to a dark empty apartment every day began to weigh on her.

So she caved. She had no idea what kind of pet she would get. She had never had a pet in her life. Things had always been too crazy to have one. Cats didn’t require much work but they were too finicky and independent. With fish, she would have to clean tanks and she wouldn’t get to pet them at all and talking to glass didn’t seem appealing. Rodents smelled, birds were noisy, lizards and snakes were downright creepy. There was no other choice. Man’s best friend.

The puppies immediately warmed her heart, causing the first smile she had in weeks. They each jumped at her and barked with excitement as she tried to pet each one in the glass tub in the window of the pet store. Tiny tongues licked her hand while little teeth bit at her fingers. They all wanted attention and affection and they would climb over each other to get it. She couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling as she watched the adorable creatures. It was then that she knew she was making the right decision.

It was hard to choose. She would spend hours in that store, talking with the clerk and playing with each and every puppy. She even found herself flirting with the guy working there. That was probably why he was so patient and willing to let her spend time with each dog. It gave him more time to talk to her. By the end of her time there, she had walked away with the smallest quietest little pup there plus a cart full of food, toys, beds, anything he would need. He was a dirty blonde color and probably wouldn’t grow to be any bigger than ten or fifteen pounds or so and he loved to lick.

She talked to the little fellow as she drove them home, both clearly excited to start this new relationship. She giggled as he tried to squirm out of her arms, making it hard for her to unlock her apartment and hold onto him and the bags hanging from her arm. He finally leapt from her grasp the moment the door opened and immediately made himself at home, bouncing around and sniffing out his new home. She continued to have a conversation with him as he followed her around while she put things away.

She set up a corner for him in the living room, a bed and a box with a few toys. He received a treat before she laid out a mat in the kitchen and placed his new food and water bowl down. Then when they went to the bedroom, she set another bed down at the foot of her own bed. When she looked up, he was laying happily on her blankets, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging. She laughed but picked him up and set him back down on the floor, scolding him about getting on the bed. The moment she turned her back to set down a little puppy pee pad by her bathroom, he hopped back up on the bed, this time curling up against her pillows.

Her eyes rolled but she couldn’t help but smile. He was too cute to deny. So instead she crawled up on the bed with him and leaned her back against the headboard. Her hand glided down his long body, fingers running through his short hair. He didn’t stay too far away for long before he got up and curled into a ball on her lap. A warm smile spread across her face as she continued to pet him, his warmth on her thighs making a sigh pass her lips.  

She found it was hard to figure out a name for the little guy. And she couldn’t just keep calling him little guy. He snuggled with her all night and slept later than she did. Once he had his breakfast, he refused to let her drag him out on his leash. “Stubborn little thing.” She grumbled before picking him up and heading outside. She struggled with him for a while, finding that he truly was a stubborn pup, refusing to follow her or denying her wishes to stay on the grass. “You have an attitude problem.” She narrowed her eyes down at him with her hands on her hips. He simply sat there staring up at her with those puppy dog eyes and his head tilted.

She couldn’t be mad at a face like that. She crouched and scratched his chin and his tongue hung out. “God, you remind me of Dean.” She joked before her eyes widened. A sly grin played at her lips and she let out a laugh. “I’ll call you Dean.” Her head nodded when he barked, clearly approving of his new name. “Come on, Deano.”

As the months passed and Dean grew, the pair were inseparable. He missed her desperately when she was gone but he got plenty of affection when she came back. She found that the pain of missing the eldest Winchester wasn’t so bad. It was almost like he was still with her, only in the form of the tiny dog.

Today Dean and Jo were busy about the apartment, tidying up and preparing for a visitor. Bobby was bringing Sam. It wasn’t the first time Bobby had been by and Dean had loved him. Mostly because the old man had spoiled the pup by giving him scraps from the table. But this was the first time he was bringing Sam. She hadn’t heard about him since Dean died and a part of her was dreading seeing the youngest Winchester again. Her anxiety and nervousness was clearing rubbing off on Dean as he followed his master around with the same intensity and excitement.

“You gotta be nice to the giant, ok Dean?” She warned, turning to look down at the dog at her feet. “He may look scary but he’s just a little puppy just like you.” She smiled and it almost looked like he smiled back. Her smile faded when the knock at her door caused her to jump with a start. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked down at Dean again. “Here we go, boy.” Dean followed behind her as she made her way to the door.

The person on the other side caused her to freeze. It wasn’t Bobby or even Sam that she was faced with. All air was sucked out of her lungs as she stood face to face with Dean Winchester himself. She barely noticed Bobby and Sam standing behind him, her vision tunneled in on the eldest Winchester. The tiny dog began to bark, the strangers at his door making him upset and protective of his master. “Dean, hush.” Jo said breathlessly, her eyes not leaving the Winchester. The dog sat and tilted his head up at the men.

A smile crept over the Winchester’s lips. “You named the dog Dean?”

[stars-for-thought]

Head over Heels

Title: Head Over Heels Pt. 1

Prompt-Plot Bunny #24: Using the line from Thor, the Dark World. “Congratulations, you just decapitated your grandfather.” Set during the reconstruction of Erebor with Fili and Kili.

Pairing: Fíli/Oc/Kíli

For: @sdavid09’s Tale Teller’s Plot Bunny Challenge 2019

Tags: @blankdblank @deepestfirefun @fizzyxcustard @fountainsofsilver @immawriteyouthings @princessofthefandomrealm @xxdragonagequeenxx

Authors Note: Ngl, I struggled so much to write this (but that’s normal. I have a hard time writing even though I love it.) but I had fun doing it. This is part from a series I’ve got ideas for. So if I get some decent feedback (and can actually write more) I’ll write and post the series from the beginning. The hard part was I got ideas. And then they expanded and changed. Then I would write but then Fred (my brain) would want more or to change stuff. I finally got it down to a short little thing that can be expanded on into a series in the future. Hope you all enjoy it and thank you @sdavid09 for the bunny!

And also thank you @blankdblank and @fountainsofsilver for your encouragement, suggestions, and listening to me whine as I attempted to write this! You both are the best.

———-

Head Over Heels

“Ya know lass, teasing them like that is bound to backfire in someway.”

Mallory turns and gives Dwalin a bright smile and flutters her eyelashes at him. “Why, whatever do you mean Master Dwalin?”

Dwalin raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly at her outfit.

She’s wearing a pair of short denim shorts, a tight tank top, a tool belt with a variety of tools on it, and her special made dwarven boots (one of many wonderful gifts from company). If her clothes happen to cling to her body and accentuate certain aspects of it, or show off her greatly admired tattoos (dwarves do so appreciate their art) then that is merely a happy accident. And no one really cares if her long dark red hair is pulled back in a high ponytail that sways as she walks, or that her tools smack against her thighs. She’s absolutely not trying to get anyone’s attention or rile them up.

Mallory grins down unrepentantly at the burly dwarf, “We’ve been working in the forges and the furnaces are up and running. So it’s hot. I’m merely dressed for the weather.”

Dwalin makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course you are.” He smirks and nods at her. “And the fact that you’re wearing the several pairs of earrings that Fíli and Kíli made you are also just coincidences too I take it?”

“Well of course not. Subtle doesn’t work with you Durins, so I may as well go all out.” She answers with an eye roll and a huff of exasperation.

Dwalin snorts in amusement and turns back to his work with a chuckle. “Just be careful there lassie, you may not like what happens when they snap.”

“Or I may love what happens when they finally do.” She replies cheekily.

Dwalin gives a bark of laughter and yells to her retreating back. “That you may lassie!”

Mallory chuckles as she walks towards the Forges and Great Hall. She passes many dwarrow and dams who nod or holler a greeting to her (which she heartily returns) as she passed by their work stations.

It’s only been a few months since the Battle of the Five Armies and yet so much progress had been made on restoring the mountain. (Never let it be said that dwarves weren’t stubborn, efficient, and hard working beings) The Great Forges in the mountains center, the entrances and exits, the Royal wings, the kitchens, and main sleeping areas were the first things repaired. It made it easier to repair and fix things with instead of having to send out to the Iron Hills, it also prepared the mountain for the coming winter months.

As things settled and time passed, (and the wounded healed) it was easier for the dwarrows to set up groups for repairing specific areas of the mountains, catalog recovered items, beginning repairs and working in the mines, and many other things.

Everyone was put to work. From Thorin who helped repair things in the forges (once he was healed enough), to Bilbo and Balin helping with alliances and securing food and things they need to last the winter.

Mallory herself had been busy as soon as she was healed enough from the battle. Her skills and knowledge as an Architect and Engineer had become a boon to the dwarves.

While she was on bed rest, many hours had been spent discussing and teaching what she knew to the Master Architects. It was eventually decided that she would be taken on as an apprentice to learn the Dwarven way of building and constructing, and she in turn would take on her own apprentices and teach them and the Masters what she knew.

While there were many who did not like a human being given such acceptance and distinction, and that she was taught their ways (from language to culture), there were even more who had come to appreciate and adore Mallory. And between them all, no one could deny that she hadn’t earned her home and place among the Company and Ereborian dwarves with all her help and accomplishments.

She had earned several titles and a position in Erebor. Throughout the journey and after all the events that had taken place, she had been honored with receiving several dwarven braids that marked her. One distinguishing and claiming her as a friend of dwarves, her Master and Apprentice braids, and a warrior braid. (She hoped that she would soon finally be able to also add courting, lovers, and family braids to her hair)

Mallory slows and warily eyes the bridges she must cross. The bridges that have no railings.

“Well there’s a lovely sight if I ever saw one!”

Mallory grins and loops her arm around Bofur’s shoulders as he comes up beside her “And hello to you Bofur.” She greets “have you come to escort me across these death traps you lot call walkways?”

“Why certainly! I’d never turn down the opportunity to have such a beautiful lass in my arms!” The dwarf cheerfully exclaims as he wraps and arm around her waist.

“Off to the Great Hall I take it?” He asks as they hurry along the walkways.

“Yes. We’re almost done with repairs there. All that’s left are some of the statues and a few superficial cracks that need mending.” She answers, focusing on him and not the high drop below her. “So I’m off there to check up on things before moving on.

“By check up, you mean find and tease the Princes don’t you?” He asks cheekily.

Mallory laughs and gives the dwarf a wink. “Care to help me Bofur?”

“Aye! We all could use some entertainment, and the lads reacting to you is certainly entertaining.”

They part ways at the Great Hall in good moods. Bofur goes off towards the last two statues that are being repaired. Mallory can easily make out Fíli and Kíli hard at work. Tunics are discarded (like many of the other dwarrows) and muscles bulging as they lift the heavy stone. The heat of the Furnaces is intense and no one is spared from the heat and sweat that comes with it.

Mallory grins impishly and hurries towards Masters Gefir and Mefir, who are overseeing the final repairs. Both greet her jovially, Gefir grins in amusement at her and her less than subtle outfit, while Mefir unrepentantly ogles and admires her.

They both quickly fill her in on everything as the three get to work clearing the last of the tools and rubble and directing the other working dwarrow.

——

Bofur is a simple dwarrow. He likes to see the good in things, he likes to laugh and be merry.

He can be serious when he needs to be though.

Right now is not one of those times though.

Having left Mallory’s side, he quickly makes his way towards the Princes and other workers. He’s determined to be in the best spot possible for when everything happens.

He can tell the exact moment that Kíli and Fíli spot Mallory. They both do double takes and then freeze, blatantly staring at the lass. And he doesn’t blame them one bit. (She’s a beautiful dam, eye catching green eyes, deep but vibrant long curly red hair, freckles everywhere and tanned skin, Incredible tattooed art, a head taller than them, toned and built, and wonderful assets.)

He watches as she bends down to pick something up and snorts as the brothers jaws drop and they unashamedly ogle her ass.

While watching them gape like fish and obviously ogle her is hilarious, they are in the middle of working and should really be paying attention to what they’re doing.

“Lads! Pay attention!”

The shout, while meant well, startles the two princes violently. Unfortunately this causes their holds on the ropes they have in their hands to slacken and like a domino affect, several things happen.

The ropes slip, which causes the stone piece that they’re hoisting up to fall, it’s caught but the action causes it to swing and smash into a pillar.

Which falls. Into a walkway. Which slices through the statue in front of it.

The crash and falling stone is loud and dusty. When it all calms and settles it’s easy to see the damage.

In the dead silence, Bofur sidles up to the brothers and claps them on the back with a loud laugh. “Congratulations! you just decapitated your grandfather.”

“Shut up Bofur.” Fíli hisses, his face the picture of horror.

The hatted dwarf is silent for a moment but then grins widely with merriment dancing in his eyes.

“That’s what you get for staring at the lass and ogling her ass instead of paying attention to what you’re doing lads.”

“Shut up Bofur!” Both princes bark, faces darkening into a deep crimson that is not from exertion and all the work they’ve been doing.

Bofur laughs loud and dodges the swipes they take at him. Out of the corner of his eye he notes the crowd growing around the broken statue. But he’s more focused on Dwalin scooping a horrified but amused Mallory up and giving her to Gloin who rushes away with her in his arms.

Cheers and exclamations go out as those gathered around the rubble start pulling out precious gems that were buried in the stone and would never have been found had the statute not been broken.

“Oh well, it’s not like we can’t make a new statue.” Someone comments happily.

Bofur snorts and turns back to the boys, ready to calm them and perhaps usher them away before they can be accosted, only to pause as he sees Dwalin barking at them and dragging them off the same way Gloin and Mallory has gone shortly before.

“Looks like Nori owes me.” Bofur murmurs gleefully, “Dwalin seems to have snapped first and is finally doing something about those three.”

Bofur grins and whistles happily, heading off to find the thief and demand his pay.

The hatted dwarf later learns that Dwalin, locked the trio in their rooms and told them to figure things out before they destroyed the mountain and that he wouldn’t let them out until things were settled between them.

No one saw them for a week after that.

[chaostheoryy]

Bullies [Matt X Reader]

Summary: @sdavid09 requested a Matt X Reader “where he likes he reader and when he spots some stormtroopers picking on her he comes to her rescue.”

Word Count: 1,106

Rating: General

Warnings: Mentions of blood and a broken nose.

Notes: Reader is female. I love this prompt because it’s the opposite of what I’ve written about Matt so far, which has been the reader protecting him. Needless to say, I was excited to take on the reverse situation!

There was nothing Matt hated more than bullies. All those obnoxious officers and hotheaded troopers who went out of their way to call him names or steal his tools just to make his day harder were the absolute worst. He wished they would disappear from the face of the galaxy or fall at the hands of Kylo Ren’s saber. 

But the fact of the matter was the First Order was full of bullies and there was nothing he could do about it. So he just took it. Every name they called him, every shove, every taunt -- he took it all and never fought back. He knew better. He wasn’t strong like most of the soldiers and he certainly didn’t have the power of the Force like Kylo Ren. He was practically useless in a fight.

He stood behind his decision to never fight back every day. Even when the teasing grew forceful and the taunting became personal, he stayed his anger and kept his head down to avoid making things worse. It’ll be over soon, he would think to himself, Just let them say what they want.

Everything changed, however, the day bullies came for you.

Matt’s heart nearly dropped to his shoes when he saw you at the other end of the hall with your head bowed and a posse of three helmeted troopers cornering you like rabid dogs. Despirte being out of earshot, it was clear to Matt what was going on -- these bucket heads were making fun of you.

Matt couldn’t stand it. He had only known you for a few months but he knew for a fact that you were the kindest person he would ever stumble across on this wretched base. You were always there to lend him a hand with a tough job or offer him support if he ever had a rough day. You were an angel walking among mortals and you were certainly the last person who deserved to be bullied.

So he did the unthinkable.

“H-hey!”

The troopers looked over their shoulders to find Matt standing with his fists clenched at his sides and a stern look on his face. “Is there a, uh, problem here?”

“Well, look who it is! Old four-eyes himself!”

Matt swallowed as the troopers laughed.

“What’s the matter, laser brain? Your vest all tied up in a knot again?”

“You shouldn’t make fun of, (Y/N),” Matt said unwaveringly.

You made eye contact with him, clearly surprised to find Matt there standing up for you like this. He couldn’t blame you either. He’d never once made any move to stop his own bullies. Why would he do anything different for you?

“Awwww,” one of the troopers mocked, “Looks like techie here’s got himself a crush. What do you think you’re some kind of Prince Charming?” The gang laughed at the idea, making Matt fidget in place. 

“Look, carrot top,” another trooper interjected, referring to his bright orange work vest, “Mind your own business and get back to work.”

Matt clenched his jaw. “N-no. Not until I know you’re gonna leave her alone.”

The troopers looked at each other, absolutely astounded that Matt wasn’t standing down. They nodded at each other in silent communication.

“Alright,” the first trooper said, “If that’s how you wanna play, four-eyes.”

Suddenly, the trooper threw a punch at Matt, his fist striking the unsuspecting technician directly in the nose. There was an audible cracking sound followed by a yelp as Matt stumbled back and clutched at his face. Blood was seeping through his fingers and it was clear that his nose had been broken by the jab.

The bullies laughed manically as they watched him drop to his knees, whimpering in pain as he held his injured nose. One of them stepped forward to strike another blow only to freeze in place when an officer rounded the corner.

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?” 

The officer began marching over to address the commotion and the troopers bolted, knowing they would be punished for assault if they were identified. The officer chased after them without so much as insuring Matt’s safety. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t entirely alone.

“Oh God, are you alright?” You asked as you knelt down beside him.

Matt winced and nodded. “It’s just broken,” he answered, voice muffled by his blood-soaked hand, “I think.”

Your hands found their way to his shoulders as you helped him to his feet. “Come on. We need to get you to the medical ward.”

It didn’t take long for the doctor to reset his broken nose and clean up his bloodied face and hand. Within an hour, Matt was back on his feet and the two of you were dismissed from the ward.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly as you two slowly made your way down the halls of the base.

Matt furrowed his brow and looked down at you. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know. But...” You sighed. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been hurt by those assholes.”

He nearly frowned. “They’re jerks and shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“Well, no they shouldn’t. But bullies are bullies. They make fun of who they want whether or not that person deserves it.”

“You don't.”

You looked up at him. His expression was stern. “People are terrible and mean but not you. You are nice to me and to everybody you know even if they aren’t nice to you too. You help me a lot and you have a really nice smile that makes me happy.” His cheeks felt hot and he swallowed. “I like you a lot and I...I think you’re pretty so...Nobody should make fun of you.”

He dipped his head, afraid to make eye contact after admitting his feelings. He was surprised, however, to have your hands grasp at his. Lifting his head, he found you smiling softly up at him with a look of adoration in your eye.

“Hey,” you said softly as you held his hands, “I like you too. And I don’t think anybody should make fun of you either because you are the sweetest, most caring guy I’ve ever met.”

Matt’s eyes scanned your face, his brain processing every word you said as he memorized the details of your eyes and skin. He swallowed and blinked a few times. “Do we kiss now?”

You laughed, the sound ringing warmly in his ears. “Matt, you just had your nose broken,” you said gently, “I don’t want to accidentally make it worse by bumping noses.”

“Okay. Later then.”

You smiled. “Later it is.”

[peachchai]

Prompt 1

Guess who procrastinated after she finished her finals.

For @sdavid09‘s “Daily” writing challenge. Sorry for Spam.

Summary-  [May 1st was] the first day of the challenge! So, tell us one of your character’s favorite firsts

Here it is 

Enjoy~