#I cried my eyes out when I read the hobbit for the first time

[journeytodrawiii]

I recently rewatched the Lord Of the Rings movies and although I do love them dearly I must say I am ultimately more attached to the Hobbit series. I have also as of yet only read the hobbit and not lotr — a grave sin I know 🙇 — but I hope to once I have time. Anyway that inspired me to make this little Gandalf and Bilbo drawing. I love them both very much, two lovely little lads. Anyway… yeah :D. I hope y’all are well, stay safe and warm.

[peachessndreamss]

Thunderstruck

Summery : When a scorching hot summer a thunderstorm wakes you and Eddie and gets the two of you worked up

Characters : Eddie Munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n

Warnings : explicit sexual content including, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, canon typical drug use

Word count : 3.2 k

A/N : Previously posted on my now deleted page. Honestly just re-sharing because I still love this idea and this character. And I'm willing the summer to start here.

Is there anything sweeter than a summer thunderstorm? The weather had been oppressively hot for two weeks now, the grass was dead and yellow with the lack of rain and the soil in every flower bed deeply cracked and dusty. The town pool was full to bursting every day of the week with children and adults alike trying to escape the heat. 

Eddie's home often became so hot in the day it was physically impossible to stay inside for more than a few minutes without feeling like you were being cooked alive in an oversized tin can. You’d spend the hours of sunshine sitting outside on old and creaking sun loungers listening to music on Eddie’s stereo, reading or dozing. Eddie would strip down to his boxers and stretch out his slim, pale body in the shade but only after you’d smothered him in sunscreen and he was so greasy with it he looked like a professional wrestler. 

At night the trailer was a little cooler, but still every window needed to be flung open wide to coax in the almost non-existent cool breeze that danced on the warm night air. You’d sleep under a thin, cotton sheet, as anything else would have been too uncomfortable and even then, with Eddie running hot, he often abandoned the sheet all together and just slept naked and uncovered. 

It had been an easy Saturday, nothing to be achieved and nowhere for either of you to be. Band practice had been cried off due to the heat and D&D wasn’t until Tuesday so you and Eddie had spent the day on the sun loungers. Eddie was re-reading The Hobbit, his copy battered and bent at the spine from the many times it had been opened and poured over. He would read his favourite parts aloud to you, giving every character their own distinct voice, he’d read it so many times now he was reciting it from memory rather than reading. 

After a dinner of take away pizza enjoyed outdoors with Uncle Wayne before he headed off for his shift , and a few joints to see the day home, you and Eddie had climbed into his bed, laying as far apart as possible as to not make each other warmer than necessary. 

It was very early in the morning when you were woken up, the room was still dark, not even a hint of the dawn in the darkness so it was the sound that had disturbed you and after listening for a few seconds you heard it again, the deep, rolling roar of thunder. It lasted for as long as 10 seconds before fading into a heavy silence. Then the rain started, a gentle plink-plonk at first but within moments it was a downpour. Heavy rain drops slamming into the roof of the trailer and bouncing back up only to fall again. Then another rumble of thunder and a flash of bright white lightning. 

“Eddie,” you whispered, grabbing at his arm and tugging gently, “Eddie, wake up,”.

Eddie snorted and shifted onto his back, turning his head and squinting at you. 

“Was it?” he grunted, confused and upset by being woken up. His nose scrunched up and his eyes struggled to open. 

“Listen,” you insisted quietly, grabbing hold of his forearm. His skin was hot to touch and clammy. 

It took him a few seconds to realise what you were talking about, as he listened, his brows unfurrowed and his eyes eased open. He cocked his head to one side, the tangle of curls under his head crackling on the fabric of his pillow. 

“It’s raining?” he asked, glancing at you. 

“It’s a thunderstorm,” you replied with a grin. 

“Awesome,” he said with a grin as he sat up and flung himself off the bed and across the small room to the window, yanking back the light curtain and taking in the scene. 

The sky seemed to glow dark red and stormy grey, the clouds low and flat, hanging over the town like a wet blanket. The rain that was falling was fast and heavy and the clattering, pattering sounds it made caused a shiver to run up Eddie’s spine. Suddenly there was a deafening roll of thunder, so loud it felt like it was happening inside your head, it was followed only a second later by a fork of lightning that illuminated the whole sky as it raced toward the ground. 

“Shit, that’s close,” Eddie said over the sound of the rain. 

“It’s so cool,” you replied, standing next to him at the window. 

The air outside was now much cooler and it whipped into the open window, bringing with it a smattering of rain. Eddie slipped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. The two of you watched three more lightning strikes, Eddie was certain that the last one must have hit his favourite picnic bench because the strike had been so close. 

You were now a little bored with the weather and your attention turned to the man standing beside you. You turned your head and placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, then another soft kiss on his cheek before bringing one hand up his naked back and shifting his curls away from his ear so you could kiss the lobe of his ear. You felt Eddie shudder and watched his eyes close as you let your lips linger on such a sensitive spot for him. 

"It's cooler now isn't it?" You said softly, turning your whole body so your front was now at his side, you placed one hand on his stomach, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin and the slight rasp of the hair that led down to his groin. 

"Yeah, a bit," Eddie swallowed as your hand moved a little lower down his stomach. 

You moved your head forward and snuggled into Eddie's neck, catching the smell of his sweat from his hair and his skin as you dragged your teeth against the soft skin. 

"Let's go back to bed Eddie," you mewled, your hand slipping even lower on his stomach, feeling the distinct change in his body hair, from the loose curls of his happy trail to the tighter and coarser curls of his pubic hair. 

Eddie swallowed hard, his cock already hardening and thickening at your touch. In less than an inch you'd be able to wrap your hand around the root of his dick and find him so ready to fuck. While the weather had been as hot and uncomfortable as it had been sex had been completely off the menu, neither of you liking the idea of any additional physical exercise than was strictly necessary. 

Eddie grabbed hold of your wrist before you reached the apex of his thighs and brought your wrist up to his mouth, biting gently at the soft underside of your wrist where a few delicate veins rose up from under your skin, almost imperceptible to the eye but Eddie knew they were there and how it made you squirm when they were touched. 

A thrill of pleasure ran around your naked body as his teeth caressed the delicate skin at your wrist before he kissed it softly. 

"Bed please, my love," he whispered before letting your wrist go and giving you a little bump with his hip in the direction of the bed. 

You smiled sweetly as you slipped out of his embrace and stepped back to the bed. Climbing on the end of the bed, glancing back over your shoulder while on all fours, finding Eddie watching you with his mouth open and a hungry look in his eyes. 

"Like this?" You asked, wiggling your hips from side to side. 

Eddie shook his head as he started to gather up his curls into an elastic he kept around his wrist. 

"On your back baby," he replied as he tightened the bun at the back of his head.

You grinned, feeling your body’s Pavlovian response to seeing his hair tied back like that as you flipped over onto your back in the centre of the small bed, your head resting on the pillow as Eddie positioned himself comfortably between your thighs. He'd settled himself with his cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress so when the mood took him he could grind down on the mattress. 

He ran his tongue over his lips as he looked up at your face, one of his forearms slipping around your thigh and lifted it onto his shoulder, your foot now resting on his back. His other hand pushed your other thigh aside, pushing your sex open for him. He made a sound of appreciation deep in his chest before he used two fingers to spread your slick lips open, exposing you even more intimately, giving him unlimited access to your clit, your entrance and with a tilt of your hips he'd have access to your tight asshole too. But right now, Eddie only had one thing on his mind. 

"Hey sweetheart," he cooed softly, dipping his head forward and placing a soft, closed lip kiss just above your clit.

"I've missed you," he continued in a soft, lilting voice, placing another kiss just below your clit. 

You made a soft purring sound, lifting your hips up a little, urging him to get to the main event. Eddie chuckled and gave you a very gentle slap on the thigh. 

“Don't rush me," he insisted, lifting his head to speak to you, "we need to get reacquainted and she's shy," he added before touching the pad of his thumb to your clit, the sudden direct contact making you jerk your hips off the bed and your hands claw at the bedsheet. 

"See?" He said with a grin as he cocked his eyebrow at you, "she's skittish,". 

Eddie returned his attention to your pussy and continued his slow torture, kissing around your clit, occasionally giving a small lick either side but never touching it directly. In what felt like hours to you, but was only 2 minutes in reality Eddie had you rocking and twisting your hips, trying to force him to give you the contact you wanted. 

"Eddie please, please please," you moaned as your hands fisted at the bedsheet. 

Eddie chuckled softly, rubbing his chin against the thigh he had hooked over his shoulder. 

"Needy, needy girl," he whispered sweetly before finally kissing your clit. 

The bud was tight and thumping in time with your heartbeat and Eddie's wet mouth created an explosion of pleasure and pain as the thousands of nerve endings were stimulated in unison. You gave a strangled cry, bucking your hips up and bringing one of your hands down on the back of Eddie's head, holding him in place, rocking your hips against his open mouth, feeling the hot, wetness of his tongue as he danced it over and around your clit. There was no consistency to his movements yet so while pleasure rolled around your body you knew he wasn't trying to make you come yet. He was still holding back. 

You moaned and bucked again, pushing Eddie's head down harder, feeling the press of his nose into your pubic mound. 

"Eddie, fuck, Eddie," you groaned as you noticed for the first time the slow, undulating movements of his lower body. 

You lifted your head up and watched his hips pressing and grinding down against the mattress, the muscles in his bare ass popping as he rolled his hips and clenched his glutes and thighs. The sight of him fucking at the mattress sent your body and mind spiraling as you dropped back onto the pillow and moaned loudly, your whole body suddenly more alive than ever. 

Eddie's tongue was now constantly licking at your clit, his lips fixed around it  creating a hot, wet seal around the bud. Eddie let you buck and grind and hold his face down all you needed until you finally reached your peak. Your voice disappeared for a few seconds as you felt nothing but hot pleasure rushing around your body.

As your muscles clenched and stars exploded behind your eyes a streak of lightning raced across the sky, turning the room as bright as your body felt for a few seconds. Your hand released Eddie's head and he moved a little, not enough to break contact but to ease up on your clit, stopping the intense licking and changing back to soft kisses to draw out your climax until you were shaking and writhing, nothing but soft mewling noises coming from your mouth.

"Oh god," you moaned softly as Eddie moved his kisses to the inside of your thighs, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. 

"That was so cool baby," he whispered, "you came so hard there was lightning,". 

You gave a soft laugh, lifting your head to look at the sweet man between your legs, he was looking up at you, his big brown eyes looking soft and loving. 

"Get up here and fuck me," you said, twisting a curl of his hair that had fallen loose around your finger. 

"Fuck yeah baby," Eddie replied as he clambered up, crawling up your body, pushing your thighs apart and bringing his hard cock right to your waiting entrance.

You were both beyond ready so Eddie sank into you easily, placing his hands on your thighs and drawing them up his body so you cradled him either side of his chest. He rested with his forearms either side of your head and kissed you deeply and he pressed his hips forward, filling your body with his, making you whole and creating a passionate fusion of your two bodies and your two souls. 

You broke away from his mouth and moaned his name, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging deep and leaving red marks in his alabaster skin. Eddie hissed at the burn of your nails in his flesh but the hiss quickly turned to a laugh as he dipped his head and licked up the column of your neck to your chin before kissing you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he drew his hips back before driving forward again.

You broke away from his lips, taking a deep gasping breath as the head of Eddie's cock hit right against your g-spot. As the lights burst behind your closed eyes the sky seemed to shake with a huge rumble of thunder, it was so loud and so close it felt like it might have made the trailer shake but it was hard to tell if the shaking was the weather, or Eddie as he picked up his pace. 

He moves from drawing out and pushing forward to grinding, keeping his cock buried deeply inside you and rocking his hips back and forth, meaning he was able to constantly stimulate you internally as well as externally, your clit now being rubbed by the muscles of Eddie's pelvis. You clawed at Eddie's back, crying out as you felt your second climax starting to build deep inside your belly. 

"Eddie, oh God, Eddie," you breathed. 

You moved your hands from his back to his face. Catching his cheeks between your hands and bringing his face close to yours, pressing your foreheads together. His face was sweaty and so was yours, your two sweats mingling on your skin. 

You felt so completely connected to him it was overwhelming, Eddie was everywhere and, in that moment, he was everything as well. The intimacy of it all aided in pushing you over the edge very quickly, your orgasm burst outward with the power of an exploding star. Your legs gripping Eddie's chest and your arms dragging his upper body closer to yours so it was impossible to tell who skin was who's. 

With a stuttering and guttural cry, taken by surprise by your suddenly gripping, milking pussy Eddie came, hard and deep. Filling you up as another rumble of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky. 

The two of you seem to float, for a while, suspended in space and time, your bodies both corporeal and ethereal, human and divine. You come back to the sound of the pattering rain and the tickle of Eddie's curls, the weight of his body feels safe and the heat of his skin feels comforting. 

"Eddie baby?" You said softly, stroking your fingers down his spine. 

"Yeah?" He mumbled, his face pressed deep into the space beside your neck. 

"You okay?". 

"Baby," Eddie sighed, lifting himself up to look at your face, "that was the best," he grinned. 

You giggled, more of the physical sensations of post sex coming back to you. An ache in your hips, a stretch between your thighs, and warm wetness on your thighs. 

"It was good," you agreed. 

"I think we should always have sex when there's a thunderstorm," he said sleepily as he moved, withdrawing his softening cock from you and flopping down beside, patting a spot on his chest where he wanted you to put your head. 

You wriggled toward him and placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around your body and the two of you kissed deeply. 

"I feel like we just conceived the anti-Christ or something," you said with a giggle. 

Eddie scoffed and shook his head. 

"Don't even joke," he replied, kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

The rain seemed to be slowing and the rumbles of thunder sounded further away, the storm seemed to be rolling on, maybe waking up other young lovers as it went. 

Eddie dropped off to sleep after a few minutes, his body and mind completely relaxed and satisfied. You stayed awake a little longer, the day was getting lighter by the second and Eddie's features were being revealed to you in glorious golden morning hues. You were contemplating how much he looked like an angel from a painting when you dropped off to sleep yourself. 

The two of you woke up a second time when Wayne came home from his shift with paper bags of hot and greasy breakfast food. The three of you sat around the small table and ate. Wayne was tired from his shift and you and Eddie were dozy from being up half the night enjoying each other's bodies. The day after the storm was cooler, the air fresher. The plants seemed to be greener and the sky bluer and even the people seemed more friendly, Eddie's usually sullen neighbour greeting you when you stepped out of the trailer to find your rain soaked sneakers. 

Eddie brought his guitar out that day and he sat beside you on the same sun lounger and strummed chords, humming tunes and making up nonsense songs. Songs about his D&D campaign, songs about summer, songs about love, and one about passionate nights while lightning splits the sky. 

Hearing him recount the night before in his deep, rich singing voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"You're not sharing that one with the band are you?" You asked as he came up with a lyric about how the sound of the thunder was second to the sounds you make when he’s inside you.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. 

"This one's just for you and me baby,".

[passengerseatsam]

Eddie's son, your son, is in third grade the first time he brings home an A+ on a book report— and Eddie cries.

You don't know what to make of it when you find him in your shared bedroom, sitting on the very edge of the bed. He laughs softly, wetly, feeling foolish as his fingers wipe his cheeks. You crouch down between his legs, leveling yourself with his red-rimmed eyes. 

"He's so smart," he says, voice cracking. “He didn't get that from me."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, bewildered.

Eddie has always kept his insecurities locked away. There’s a box in the dark corner of his mind where he’s shoved it all, out of sight and out of mind. He thought he had thrown away the key. He wasn’t just lousy in school, he was the lousiest. Couldn’t focus for shit, couldn’t keep his assignments organized, and by high school he was so behind that he stopped bothering to try. The teachers were split; some called him stupid, others called him lazy. All were happy enough to say it right to his face.

He locked all of it in the box. The only thing he was good at was pretending not to care.

But then, the little plus sign on the pregnancy test. Old hurt started creeping up somewhere between ultrasounds. The box faltered, and things started seeping out. He had dreams about the disappointment on Wayne’s face when the school informed him that Eddie wasn't graduating. And the disappointment when it happened a second time.

He wasn’t afraid that his baby would be stupid. He was afraid that his baby would try and fail, like he had. He was afraid that the world would count him out, like they had done to him. Or worse, that he would learn to count himself out before anyone else got the chance. 

“Eddie,” you call to him, dragging him out of his own head. Your grip on his knees gives him something to anchor himself to. “Honey, yes he did. Are you kidding? You started reading him The Hobbit when he was in diapers,” you laugh gently. Not at him, but with fondness. “You made it magic for him, and now he loves to read. You made him imaginative and creative. He had everything he needed to ace this book report— and every book report— because of you.”

He draws in a breath. The familiar smell of your shampoo eases some of the tightness in his chest. “I’m just— relieved, I guess. You know, I knew I wasn’t gonna be the kind of dad who could help with math homework. Not that my dad was ever around to do that either…”

“Being smart and being good at schoolwork are two different things, Eddie.” You assure. He’s never thought of it that way. You reach up, wrapping your hand around his hip with a tender squeeze. “Fortunately, our kid is both.”

“I know.” He laughs again, a little more steady this time. “Shit. What are we gonna do with him?”

One day, he’ll run circles around you both. And honestly? Eddie can’t wait to see it. 

You smile. “We’re gonna get in the car, and take our son out for ice cream. And tomorrow, we’ll start saving for college.”

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

Whatever labels I use, However old I am, wherever I live, it doesn’t matter. Inside I will always be the eight year old girl who grabbed the Fellowship of the ring from the cabinet where my Dad kept all of his books and read the entire trilogy in two weeks.

I will always be the eleven year old girl who carried The two towers around so much and read is so frequently that despite it being a hardback, the back fell off and some of the pages fell out and I lost the cover somewhere.

Every now and again, I return to the time when I first read through the hobbit and cried my eyes out when Thorin died and every time since then that I read through the book and it never stopped the tears.

I bought the first edition re-release of the hobbit not too long ago, with ilustrations and such a lovely cover. I spent my food money for that week on it. It was worth it.

Whenever I listen to the Shire theme song from the movies that shaped my teens, I always cry so hard with the longing for home, despite the fact that I’m sitting on my own bed in the flat where I grew up in.

It’s so hard to put all my thoughts into words, honestly. I’ve never been able to do it justice, yet my Pure love for it seeped into my words enough so that I made four of my friends read it, just so they could go through that rolecoaster of emotions I described.

I rewatched the movies with my friend this summer. We just sat in her flat for the entire time, we talked and ate some food and we watched. We made fun of some of the parts and we both were at the Edge of our seats when the Battles were happening. Even if we had to split it into two days because I got a migraine, I still look at that experience and am so fucking happy about it.

This book series, these movies, they gave me something nothing since was able to replicate. And I’ve read a lot of books, watched hundreds of movies, series and played loads of games. Nothing comes close.

The people of that world are close to my heart. It was a huge part of my childhood, my teens, it shaped me as a person and I can never be thankful enough for it.

The love portrayed, whether I see it as platonic or romantic, is there and it’s real and it’s the reason why I want to support my friends and the people around me as much as I can, it’s the reason I want to be a therapist.

Fucking hell man. I love The Lord of the Rings.

*edited because the friend I watched the movies with is now trans ;)

[brynnmclean]

in the core of everything drums a beat (WIP)

Hi, it's my birthday and in hobbit fandom fashion, I want to share fic! This is very much a WIP that I've been kicking around for several weeks (slow writer solidarity) so there is going to be more and I eventually want to post a beta-read multichapter version on AO3 when it's complete and I'm satisfied with it. But for now this is the first (rough draft) chapter of a Hellblade 2: Senua's Saga fic! Spoilers for the end of the game under the cut.

I. drifting

When his father’s blade pierces into his back, Thórgestr finds himself almost thankful for the blow.  It is the bite of steel, the tearing of breath, the blinding burn of pain—but so too is it the bleeding of shame and doubt from his body.  Time turns liquid and slow, and as the Goði discards him, so too does Thórgestr cast away all thought of himself.  He reaches out for Senua, every ounce of strength he has ever had straightening his spine in the silence between ragged breaths.  He must give her the giant’s name.  She must end the tyrant’s reign.

Light glows between their clasped hands, warm and gentle.  A rushlight to show the way.  Brief, but enough. 

Thórgestr strips a title from a tyrant, turns an undefeatable monster into a weak, mortal man.

My father’s name is Áleifr.

The name rings like steel struck true with the hammer beat of his heart.  Thórgestr has carried his father’s reputation—his expectation—like an oxen’s yoke, where once it was a torc around his neck.  Now the weight of it on his back—Goðisson—is gone.  

He is Áleifrsson.  

And Death is coming, swift as raven’s wings.

It hurts to breathe.  He tastes blood on his tongue, between his teeth.  But Senua holds him still.  Not his broken body—just his hand, his gaze.  It is enough to keep him here a moment longer.  

Her eyes are so blue.  There are snowflakes caught in her lashes.  Thórgestr looks at her and wishes for many things.  But there isn’t any more time.

She pulls away and takes up her sword.  He crumbles to the ground, cold as ash.  

He waits for Oðinn’s Valkyries to come, but all he sees is Senua, fierce as flame, defeating the god he made of his father.

-

Death is coming, but not yet.

Thórgestr drifts.  He dreams.

-

He is in the eye of a terrible storm, floating in dark water.  Every so often, his head slips under the surface and he chokes on strange sea-water, thick and metallic on his tongue.  He comes back up and turns his head to vomit up Áleifr’s poison.  There is no strength in his limbs, only shadow and pain.

Senua’s voice reaches him, close in his ear—soft murmurs telling him to hold onto her, she won’t let him go again.  But fear is ice in his veins, heavy as stone.  I’ll drag you under, he weeps, I’ll drown you.  

She won’t hear him, her hands cradling his face, sword-strong grip lifting him up.  And he has no will to struggle against her, grieved and grateful.

-

Distantly, he knows there are poultices and bandages, needles and prayers.  Conversations swirl around him like smoke, nothing he can grasp.  He shivers and sweats in a sick-bed, lost in a maze in his mind.

-

The forest path winds around and around in circles, mist thick and cloying.  Sightless, fearful, he cries out for his companions to no avail.  The malice of Járnviðr has stolen them from him, Senua and Fargrímr and Ástríðr—stupid to have taken his eyes off them when at every turn he can feel beasts watching, rapt and ravenous, waiting for him to fail.  And he will, he knows it, his steps are heavy and limping like the footfalls of prey destined to die in the dirt.  Something is broken within him.  A deep, dull pain throbs inside his chest with each breath.

You stupid boy, strikes inside his skull, reverberating.  His father’s voice, cutting him down.  His leg gives out, axe-bite scar blazing even as he slips into a shallow pool of water and finds the water cold.  He gazes into the broken mirror of the surface, sees his reflection in fragments—his eyes, there’s something strange with his eyes, they flash silver with an animal’s shine.  

If his father is a jotun, then his blood is infected, too.  There is a monster inside him, waiting to strike.

-

“There are no giants,” someone tells him, thumbs sweeping away the tears staining his cheeks, “Your father is gone.  Rest, Thórgestr…”

Rest?  He doesn’t deserve that.

-

The Goði snarls at him to prepare the sacrifice, and unthinking and unquestioning, Thórgestr obeys.

He lifts the sacrifice—the slave—the woman—up and ties her sea-soaked body onto the poles.  The girl from Orkneyjar shakes and screams, and curses him with his own name: Thórgestr, liar, betrayer.

She will bring the giant’s wrath down upon us, the Goði snaps, shut her up, my son!  

Hands trembling, bile burning in his mouth, Thórgestr takes up a knife.  He does not want this.  He never wanted this.  But his father says there is no other way.

The woman’s blood in the moonlight looks black, her throat a ruin beneath his fingers.  Senua chokes and somehow he can still understand the final name she gives him: coward.  The stains sink into his skin like ink.  He will never be clean.

-

He wakes, gasping for air, but the nightmares wash over him again, though he fights, he fights— 

-

The Goði beats him bloody, throws him down into the dirt.  Thórgestr shudders and cries—crawls back to his father’s feet, his guts spilling out and steaming on the ground.  His father reaches down to him from a towering height, and for a breathless moment, Thórgestr thinks he will pull him to his feet and turn a loving hand upon him.  But the giant holds him fast, tears into his flesh and digs until he finds his heart, crushing it in his fist.

Thórgestr’s vision twists and writhes like an animal in death-throes, and then the world glows red.

He rises from death and wields sword and axe like tooth and claw, become now a revenant, a draugar of legend.  He makes himself kinslayer to match Áleifr.

-

“He’s gone,” someone says, soothing but for the note of desperation crackling through their voice, “Áleifr is gone and cannot hurt you anymore—now rest, heal, live for me, I—I will not lose you, too.”

But he is lost, blind and trapped somewhere between Midgard and Niflheim.  Alone in the dark.

“Follow my voice.  I won’t leave you.”

-

A woman is singing in a language he cannot comprehend, the notes fading in and out—coming to him from a great distance in one breath and then brushing as close as a lover’s breath in his ear with the next.  Each note thrums with a thread of light, wrapping around his body like arms—no, a net—he is caught, but the bonds don’t cut.  He reaches out into the tangle of it and finds a steady drumbeat in his blood, strength enough to grasp the threads—light, life—it is a rope cast down into the cavern he has fallen into.

Thórgestr pulls himself to his feet and climbs toward the song.

[miss-bushido]

make the world safe and sound for you

written for @softsteddieseptember week 3, prompt ‘anniversary’

Rating: G

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

Steve pressed his face to the pillow and groaned. “No, my head hurts. Come back later.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Eddie murmured, pressing a light kiss to Steve’s temple, smoothing back some flyaway strands. “How late were you up?”

Steve groaned, tapping his fingers on the bed as he counted in his head. “Last time I saw the clock it said 4:30 AM.” He had been pulling all-nighters while working to get his Master’s degree. He was only a few months away from being finished with the program, and he just wanted to see the back of it.

Eddie winced. It was 7:30 AM. Normally, Steve would be up by 6 AM, ensuring he would see first thing the text messages or emails from his boss asking him to sub for one of the teachers at a local school. Eddie grabbed Steve’s phone and winced again. There were three missed calls from his boss, and a flurry of text messages.

“I’m making an executive decision,” Eddie announced, sitting on the bed behind Steve. “I’m telling your boss that you’re sick and that you won’t be able to sub anywhere today.”

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands. “No, I can-”

“Honey, I love you, but you’re talking out of your ass. You need to rest. You can’t expect to be effective with less than 3 hours of sleep.” Eddie put his fingertip to Steve’s plush lips to silence any further protests. “I’ll call her and let her know you’re sick, and that you should be more than fine come Monday morning. When was the last time you took a Friday off?”

Steve blinked, his eyes heavy and scratchy from lack of sleep. “Almost two years ago.”

“Exactly. So. Since you’re not going to work today, go back to sleep. I don’t want to see you downstairs before 9:30 AM, clear?”

In spite of how exhausted he was, Steve felt his stomach flutter at the tone Eddie used. “Yes, sir.”

Eddie smirked, unable to resist giving him a kiss. “Let’s save that for tonight, okay?”

“Daddy?” came a small, sleepy voice from the hallway. The bedroom door was pushed open to reveal their toddler daughter Rosie standing there, clutching her stuffed duck. “We’re thirsty,” she said, her voice low and rough in her throat. Her twin brother, Theo, was with her as he always was, clutching her purple sleep shirt with his left hand, his right thumb in his mouth.

Eddie’s heart swelled to look at them. He and Steve had thought long and hard about children after their marriage, and though they were fine with adoption, they wanted to try and have biological children of their own. Obviously, neither of them could get pregnant (not for lack of trying), so they spoke to the women in their lives; Nancy, Robin, Chrissy, Vickie, to see if any of them would be willing to either donate one of their eggs or become a surrogate, or both.

In the end, Chrissy said she would do both for them: donate her eggs, and be a surrogate. It was almost immediate that she became pregnant with the twins. When they were born, Eddie cried harder than he ever had in his life at seeing their chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He couldn’t believe it was three years ago that their little family was completed.

“You’re thirsty?” Eddie asked, holding his arms out for both of them to come in. Theo broke into a big toothy grin and ran over to jump on Eddie, his light brown hair bouncing . Both Steve and Eddie loved their children equally, and they knew the twins loved them the same as well. But Theo seemed to have an affinity for Eddie: following him around and looking very interested when he practiced his guitar. He even accompanied Eddie to some band rehearsals, but never to one of their shows. Maybe when he was older. He listened with rapt attention as Eddie read to them: The Hobbit, the Redwall books, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, and the paintings he did, while rudimentary, were clearly influenced by the stories.

Rosie could frequently be found snuggling with Steve: she liked putting barrettes in his hair, painting his nails and putting lipstick on him. Whenever they had a tea party, she put a silver tiara on him and a pair of ruby clip on earrings, telling him, "Papa looks so pretty."

How could Steve resist? How could either of them resist?

While her brother went to Eddie, she toddled over to the other side of the bed. She tossed her stuffed duck up and clambered up, crawling over to Steve. She looked the most like Eddie: she had his brown doe eyes and the waves of her hair were like his, though she took after Chrissy in terms of her strawberry blonde hair color, and the way she smiled. “Papa?” she asked, looking down at Steve. “No work today?”

Steve looked up sleepily at his daughter, unable to stop the big smile spreading across his face. “Not today, baby. Papa stayed up too late doing school work.”

“That’s silly,” she said, collapsing dramatically against the pillows. Steve had seen Eddie do that exact same thing more than a few times, and it always made him laugh.

“Papa is silly, Duck,” he admitted, quickly reaching forward and pulling her close, blowing raspberries on her neck, her shrieking giggles filling the air. He still had a headache, and her shrieks of glee were not helping, but he could bear it.

“I keep telling him that,” Eddie said as he sat back down, Theo leaning against him. Theo had Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, but they were turning more towards green the older he got. His hair was dark brown and straight, and though he was quieter than his sister, the smile he had was pure Eddie. Both of them worried they would have a little hell-raiser on their hands as he got older and got more confidence.

“‘M still thirsty, Daddy,” Theo murmured against Eddie’s chest. He looked up at Eddie with his big eyes. “Choccy milk?”

“For breakfast?” Eddie replied in mock shock and awe. Theo immediately started giggling, tilting his head back as he watched Eddie perform. “There will be chaos if we move choccy milk time to morning instead of dinner.”

“Pleeeeease?” Theo pleaded. “Please Daddy?”

“Yeah! Pleeeeease?” Rosie shouted, jumping up from laying next to Steve, all but throwing herself on Eddie’s back.

“Oh! Attacked on both sides! The treachery! The betrayaaaal!” Eddie kept his left arm firmly wrapped around Theo before he hooked his right arm back to wrap around Rosie. He stood up, both of them in his arms. “Steve! Don’t just lay in bed! Save meeeee!” He yelled this while moving quickly out of the bedroom, giving Steve a knowing glance as he shut the door behind him with his foot.

Steve laughed at the display of his little family, though he was grateful that Eddie managed to get them out of the room and leave him in peace. He didn’t see his phone on the bed, so Eddie must have taken it with him. Which was good, as it meant he could fall back to sleep like Eddie wanted him to.

A few hours later, Steve woke up, feeling the warmth of a small body against his chest. He opened his eyes to see Theo snuggled up against him, snoring lightly. Behind him, Rosie and Eddie were also asleep. Both had their mouths open slightly, right arms above their heads as they slept.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered, feeling happy tears well in his eyes.

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

15 Questions for 15 or maybe 5 or 6 Friends Tagged by @hiddenxplaces-blog

Are you named after anyone? Accidentally. Apparently, my mom picked my first name and my aunt suggested the second. They didn’t realize the combination only sounded right to their ears because it’s what the neighbors also named their baby.

When was the last time you cried? It can’t be late last year, but that’s the last time I remember having a good, ugly cry. This was while watching Past Lives for the second time.

Do you have kids? Does my dog count? He’s my pandemic baby.

What sports do you play/have you played? None. I did participate in competitive Scrabble once.

Do you use sarcasm? Do I breathe?

What’s the first thing you notice about people? How they carry themselves or what they’re wearing (because I love fashion).

What’s your eye color? Dark brown.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings in scary movies.

Any talents? A handful of art-related things (e.g. photography, styling, DIY, decorating); reading people; and being a chameleon in social situations.

Where were you born? A country with 7000+ islands.

What are your hobbies? Watching films and TV shows, GIF-making, curating lists, exploring local coffee shops, thrift shopping, organizing, and traveling.

Do you have any pets? A grumpy dog and a clingy stray cat.

How tall are you? If I lived in the Shire, I’d be an unusually tall Hobbit—the one they would call to get things on high shelves.

Favorite subject in school? English.

Dream job? I’m a photographer already but the niche Greg Williams carved out for himself looks particularly fun.

Would be fun to see your answers @jomarch-wannabe, @leatherandsoil, @decemberafternoon, @deepdwellingsteamboat, and @thorne-kreizler—but no pressure, only if you want to or have the time.

[marie-swriting]

Home Again - Bucky Barnes

Marvel Masterlist

Summary : Your husband Bucky gets called to war, leaving you and your son Michael behind but he promises you'll meet again, little did he know "again" meant "seventy-four years".

Warnings : starts in the 40's, angst, character's death, mention of Bucky's trauma, loss of father, mention of war, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 3.7k

French version

Song inspiration : We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn

Your back against Bucky’s torso, you’re both comfortably settled on your couch. You’re holding his left hand against your chest and you’re softly stroking his wedding ring on his finger. Sometimes, Bucky brings both of your hands to his mouth to kiss yours. In his other hand, he’s holding The Hobbit while he’s reading out loud. As it often happens when your child Michael, who is one year old, is napping, you and Bucky make the most of this moment of silence to lay down and read. Even if you change books from time to time, you often re-read Tolkien’s work. Bucky is the one who introduced it to you so it’s kind of become your book. Bucky keeps reading, lulling you delicately with his voice, as usual. A light breeze coming from the open window of your living room comes your way to sweep away the summer heat. Somebody knocking on the door interrupts Bucky in the middle of a sentence. He markes the page then closes the book and you tell him you’re going to check who it is. You leave Bucky’s arm, peck his lips and walk to the front door. When you open it, you find a man with an army uniform. You instantly understand what news he is going to break to you.

“My respects, Mrs.Barnes,” he greets you with a nod, “is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes here ?”

“Yes, he is.” you inform, “Buck, can you please come here, honey ?” you call your husband.

You hear Bucky putting down the book on the couch and walking to you. Once he’s next to you, you step aside to allow him to see the man. As soon as he notices it’s someone from the army, Bucky gives a salute before listening to the information. You watch the interaction, even though you feel like you’re not here mentally. The conversation doesn’t seem to reach your ears, except for one sentence ‘you’re leaving tomorrow.’. These last words keep echoing inside your head as you realise in a few hours, Bucky won't be by yours and your son’s side anymore until an indeterminate day - if he comes back home safely. As soon as you see Bucky salutes again, you quickly say goodbye to the commanding officer whilst Bucky closes the door. Once you’re alone again, there’s a heavy silence. Bucky analyses your face, trying to understand your thoughts coming thick and fast. He’s about to say something to you when Michael’s cries take you out of your trance.

“I’m gonna go check on him. You should get ready, you’re supposed to meet Steve soon.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he calls you with a soft voice, taking your hand, “you know everything will be alright for me, right ?”

“I don’t have any doubt about it.” you smile, stroking his left cheek and kissing his right.

You break the embrace and go upstairs to see your son. You find him crying because he’s lost his teddy bear, you take Michael in your arms before grabbing his bear and giving it back to him as you try to soothe him. Rocking him slowly, you set your gaze on his face and you scrutinise his traits which are so close to Bucky’s and you feel tears forming in your eyes, in spite of yourself. You knew it was only a matter of time before Bucky would be called to go to war, you were just hoping you’ll get more time before his departure. You’re holding your tears back, not wanting Bucky to find your puffy eyes. You have to stay strong for him until the next day, when he’ll be gone. He’s the one going to war, you can’t be the one crying. Yet, you can’t help it. The fear of losing Bucky to the war increased the moment you opened the door.

For Bucky’s last night, you spend it at the Stark Expo with Steve and Michael. You make the best out of this last moment together. Bucky is starry-eyed as he watches the several inventions while you try to memorise Bucky being happy. God only knows how you’re going to have him back at the end of the war. You look at him interacting with your son, the moments warming your heart, especially when Michael giggles because of Bucky’s antics.

However, this moment has quickly become an old memory as soon as, with Bucky and Michael, you’re on the dock, waiting for the moment he’ll officially have to leave you. The beginning of the summer morning makes this day a bit less insufferable. The bright sun seems to want to give you a bit of hope for Bucky’s future. However, the sun can be luminous, it doesn’t erase your anxiety. Even the sight of Bucky holding your son in his arms, enjoying this last instant with him, doesn’t help to reduce your fear. Bucky keeps talking to you, hoping to take your mind off things. Even if you do your best to hide your emotions since the announcement of his departure, Bucky can see the sadness in your eyes. Notwithstanding, if he had to be honest, by doing this, it allows him not to think of the horrors of the war he’ll witness. He tries to look contented in front of you, but deep down, he’s scared of not coming back, leaving you a widow and your son without a father.

When the soldiers are officially called, you take Michael in your arms and Bucky grabs his bag. You don’t look at Bucky in the eyes, worried you’ll break down in front of him. He puts his fingers under your chin to lift your head up.

“Everything will be okay, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.” he assures you with a comforting smile.

“Bucky, we don’t know if…”

You leave your sentence up in the air, not daring to express out loud the possibility of losing Bucky whilst your eyes get teary.

“Hey, we’ll meet again. I don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again because I’ll always come back to you and to him.”, Bucky affirms, putting his right hand on your cheek and his left one on Michael’s. “You’ll see, it’ll be a sunny day like this one and we’ll make up for the lost time. I’ll come back home, no matter how long it might take. I promise. Everything will be alright for me.”

“Still, be careful. I want you back in one piece.” you state with a sad smile.

“You know me, I’m always careful.”, Bucky reminds you, kissing your left hand on your wedding ring. “Take care of yourselves.”

“As always.”

Bucky and you keep looking each other in the eyes until you hear a voice claiming it’s the last call before the departure, interrupting your moment.

“I need to go. I love you both.”

“Lobe you, dada.” Micahel tries to say.

“I love you, too, Mikey.” Bucky answers him, kissing his cheek, “Dada will be home soon. Be good to mommy. I’ll write to you both every day.” he promises.

“You better or I’ll do like Steve and do everything to enlist.” you affirm, making Bucky chuckle.

“This punk has a bad influence on you.”

“He’s your best friend. You have only yourself to blame.” you joke before having a serious expression on your face. “I love you, James.”

You don’t use Bucky’s name often, only during serious situations. When he hears his name coming out of your lips, Bucky knows the real meaning behind your ‘I love you’ is : ‘be careful, I will wait for you, come back home to us, I love you.’

“I love you, too, Y/N.” he replies but he actually means ‘I'll do everything I can to come back to you, I won't leave you and Michael behind, I'll stay as safe as I can, I love you.’

Bucky kisses you one last time while he’s stroking Michael’s back. Once he breaks the kiss, he presses his lips again on your son’s cheek before leaving for good. You watch him go, your tears already flowing freely. You can’t hold them anymore. You keep your gaze on Bucky until he disappears on the ship. You stay on the dock until the ship leaves the port. When Bucky is officially away from you, you lower your eyes to Michael who’s looking at you with curious eyes, not understanding the situation. You stare at your son, the only part of Bucky who’s with you now, until the man you love comes home from war. 

Seventy-four years later, you’re still staring at your son, only his face has become older since Bucky left, just like yours. By looking at Michael, you can have an idea of what Bucky could have looked like if war hadn’t stolen him from you. Bucky’s loss was the worst trial you ever went through. You still remember the scream of pain you made but also the sound of your heart breaking in your chest when you heard the news. Your son was three at that time so you had to handle the sorrow as best as you could to make sure Michael would have a happy and complete life, despite the absence of his father. You ensured Michael never forgot who Bucky was. You told him every story involving Bucky, and also Uncle Steve, in addition to placing every picture you have, like this he’d always remember Bucky’s face. If one asked Michael how you did as a mother, he’d say you did an exceptional job because, even if he has no memories, he feels like he really knows his father, thanks to you.

Once you became old, Michael took care of you, like you did with him your whole life. However, as he got older as well, it became harder and harder for Michael to look after you, but he didn’t want to leave you alone so he made sure you both are in the same retirement home. He even lives in the room next to you. By the time Steve got out of the ice, he made sure you both got the best home.

Currently, you’re in your room, decorated by the several memories you have including a picture of Bucky on your wedding day on your nightstand. Michael is sitting on the easy chair next to your bed while your granddaughter Allison is on your bed. The sunbeam is lighting up the room, warming it up just enough. Allison comes to visit you and Michael almost every day and from time to time, your great-granddaughter Claire does the same. Nevertheless, according to Allison, she doesn’t come visit you enough, to which you always tell her the same thing.

“Claire is twenty. She’s young, she’s right to go out. Besides, she calls us almost everyday. Let the kid live a little.”

“I know but she was supposed to come today.”

“She can always come tomorrow.” Michael assures her, making Allison sigh.

She’s about to add something when somebody knocks on the door. Before she can stand up, Michael goes to the door. He opens it and you hear someone say something, even if your old ears prevent you from understanding it. Michael doesn’t move for a second, as if he was in a state of shock. Not seeing who it is, you grow worried.

“Mikey, who is it ?”

As a simple answer, Michael steps aside with a wide eye gaze, allowing you to find Bucky still young, although he has grown his hair long and a beard, in front of you. You don’t dare to move, too afraid it’s still the same dream you’ve been doing for the past seventy-four years. When you realise your Bucky is really in front of you, you start to fidget. You try to take the cover off you and order Allison to help you get up, yet at your age, it’s almost mission impossible. Upon seeing you trying to act so quickly, Bucky runs to you, not wanting you to leave your bed, scared you’ll hurt yourself. As soon as he’s next to you, you don’t waste any second and throw yourself in his arms.

“You’re here. You’re home.” you murmur, crying.

“I told you I’d come back. On a sunny day, wasn’t it ?”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“You too, you have no idea.”

“How is this even possible ? They told me you were dead ! And how can you still be so young ?” you question, cupping his head.

“You remember Steve’s story ?” he asks and you nod, “It’s more or less the same one.”

“I can’t believe it. Mikey, he’s home again !” you exclaim to your son who has teary eyes.

“I’m so happy to see you again, son.”

Bucky turns to Michael and looks at him with a sad smile. Too overwhelmed, Michael can’t utter a single word. He only takes Bucky in his arms while crying. You see Bucky tightening his grip, enjoying the feeling of his son who changed so much since the last time he saw him. After a few instants, Michael breaks the embrace but keeps his eyes on Bucky.

“Dad,” your son clears his throat and shows Allison, “this is my daughter, Allison.”

“We’re grandparents ?” Bucky enquiries, shocked.

“Great-grandparents even !” you answer with a smile, “You have a great-granddaughter called Claire.”

“I feel like I have a lot to catch up on.”

“We’ll be glad to tell you everything.” Michael reassures him, gently hitting Bucky’s right shoulder.

And that’s what you do. The whole day, the three of you explain to Bucky several family stories and answer all of his questions. Sometimes, you try to ask him some as well yet, he always changes the subject, which you quickly notice. Bucky is sitting next to you on the bed, both of your hands intertwined, even if his gloves prevent you from directly feeling them. His jacket still on his body stops you from seeing his arms as well. You don’t understand why Bucky seems to want to keep some distance. You make a mental note to ask him once you’ll be alone. He’s attentively listening to Michael telling him about Allison’s first Christmas whilst you look at Bucky with more attention. Albeit he looks like the Bucky who left for war, you notice the dark circles under his eyes and the absence of the small sparkle that used to be in his eyes. His face almost hasn’t aged. It’s almost imperceptible, but you’ve stared at Bucky’s old photos far too often so you find those small changes with one look.

When the night comes, Allison goes home after helping Michael to go back to his room. Bucky is still beside you. After begging the nurses for a few minutes, they agreed to let you eat in your room in addition to allowing Bucky with you for the night. 

A peaceful silence is in the air while you’re looking at each other. Bucky scrutinises your face - he still thinks it’s beautiful, he’s happy he got the chance to see your face older, yet he’s sad he couldn’t see it ageing. He kisses your left ring finger on your wedding band, like he used to do, and you smile at his gesture. Bucky notices the ring is still the same ; and even if you had every right to get remarried, he’s glad to see you didn’t do it. As for you, you can’t help but be frustrated to not feel his fingers, he still hasn’t taken his gloves off, nor his jacket.

“Aren’t you hot ? You’ve been keeping these damn jacket and gloves all day.” you exclaim, annoyed.

“Are you trying to undress me ?”, Bucky laughs with a fake shocked face, “Come on, Y/N, a nurse could come here at any given moment !”

“Bucky,” you sigh, “you know what I meant. I haven’t seen you in seventy-four years, I’d like to touch your hands.”

Reluctantly, Bucky takes his right glove off and puts it in his jacket. He looks at his flesh hand before holding it out to you, trying to do a reassuring smile.

“And the other glove ?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“I… I’d rather keep it.”

“I’m old, not sick. You’re not gonna get any germ or something.” you joke, making Bucky smile.

“I know.” he says without adding anything else.

You take his right hand in yours, enjoying its calloused aspect. Bucky’s face turns into sadness whilst he slowly takes his hand out of yours and puts it on your cheek.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”, Bucky whispers, “It wasn’t what I had planned.”

“We’re together again, it’s what matters.” you assure him with a genuine smile.

“Maybe, but I was afraid you’d be…”

Just like you when he had to go to war, he leaves his sentence up in the air, not daring to express the possibility of you being dead.

“Somehow, my body must have known you were still alive and waited for you to come back.”

“Probably.”

Bucky keeps stroking your cheek while you put your left hand on his, deepening the touch.

“Are you going to tell me the truth, now we’re alone ?” you ask him with a soft voice.

Knowing well what you’re talking about, Bucky tenses up, taking his hand away from your cheek whilst he instinctively hides his left hand in his jacket’s pocket.

“About what ?” he pretends to not understand.

“Bucky, I know you, despite all these years. And besides, the way you said you had ‘more or less’ the same story as Steve confirmed to me there's something you’re not telling me. What has happened to you during the war ? How can you still be so young and how could you survive that fall ?”

Realising his half-lie didn’t convince you is not a surprise to him. You knew him by heart before he went to war, of course you can still read him like an open book. At this instant, he even thinks you know him better than he does. This thought pinches his heart. He stays silent, not knowing what to answer when his eyes fall on a book on your nightstand.

“You still have it ?”

Upon hearing Bucky changing the subject, you roll your eyes whilst he grabs the harback, beside his picture. He opens your old copy of The Hobbit - now damaged because of the multiple times you’ve read it, and discovers annotations that weren’t there the last time he saw it. You never annotated the books you used to read together. Yet, after he left, you had started reading Tolkien’s book again and annotated every comment Bucky used to say while reading to have the impression you were still reading together. Bucky’s heart tightens in chest when he thinks of all the times you must have read The Hobbit as you tried to search for some comfort. 

“I never go anywhere without it.” you inform, “You’re not going to tell me the truth, are you ?”

“Maybe one day.”

Bucky knows it’s not fair to you to hide from you what happened to him. You’ll discover the truth eventually, he must be the one telling his story, but he wants to do it some other time. He doesn't want his reunion with you to be spoiled. You’re so happy to have him again, he doesn’t want to break your heart by explaining to you that for seventy years he has been tortured and used as a weapon, along with losing every memory he had with you and Michael until Steve found him again. Bucky finally has a chance to be with you after all these years, he can’t ruin everything with his story. He had to go through terrible things before arriving at this specific moment, he has to make sure it’s a happy memory. Since Wakanda, he has a second chance and he isn’t planning on wasting it. No, you don’t need to know everything he went through or did. You don’t need to know how he can still be fragile mentally. He’s by your side again, it’s all that matters.

“Why don’t you come laying down next to me and read to me The Hobbit like we used to ?” you end up proposing.

“With pleasure, sweetheart.”

Bucky helps you to find a good position on your bed before joining you. Once you are both comfortably settled down, you try to take his left hand, but quickly, he takes the book with this hand and gives you his right one. You frown because of the way he acted. You were always holding his left hand when you were reading. You try to not to think too much about it and stroke his right hand whilst Bucky starts reading the first words out loud. As soon as you hear Bucky’s voice, you feel like you went back to a time where everything was alright, where you were young and far away from the horrors of the war in your little home in Brooklyn with Michael peacefully napping upstairs. You take a deep breath, Bucky’s smell filling your nostrils like before. For the first time in seventy-four years, you feel at home again. A peaceful smile takes place on your face.

Tired by the emotions of the day, you allow yourself to fall asleep softly while you keep listening to Bucky’s voice, your strokes on his hand becoming less and less regular. Thanks to his supersoldier hearing, Bucky feels your breath slowing down, telling him you’re falling into Morphe’s arms. Upon turning the page, Bucky kisses the crown of your head. He keeps reading, listening attentively to your heartbeat. He finishes reading the second chapter when he hears your pulse going weaker and weaker until it can’t be perceptible anymore. Confronted by the silence, Bucky stops his reading. He needs a few seconds before realising you just left him. Instantly, his eyes get teary. He puts the book down on your nightstand and sets his gaze on you. Delicately, his hands find their way to your face where he can see the ghost of a smile. Bucky starts crying as soon as he sees it, even if you passed away happy and serene by his side, he had promised to meet you again but also to make up for the lost time and one day is not enough.

Marvel Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

[frodo-cinnamonroll]

Hi, I am also a Frodo lover and would like to know if you could write an imagine about dating Frodo and thank you for taking the time to read this.

Here Always

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: nothin' but fluff here

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I've had a bit of a busy week. I hope you enjoy it. Hopefully the content will make up for my tardiness.

__________________________________

“Y/N. Y/N.”

You started awake. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep. Gandalf stood above you, a hand on your shoulder.

“Gandalf!” you cried, standing. “Oh dear I fell asleep! Is Frodo alright? Has anything happened?”

Gandalf smiled down at you. “Frodo is alright. Elrond has cured him of the wound from the Nazgûl blade. He will be out of his room in a minute.”

You jumped up and gave Gandalf a hug. “Thank you for looking after him. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

Gandalf smiled down at you. “Of course, of course. I must talk with Elrond now, so I will see you later.”

“Alright then. Good day.”

Gandalf nodded and walked off. You paced the floor, looking over the balcony nearby at Rivendell, breathing in the free air. When Frodo had been stabbed by the Nazgûl, Arwen, an elf you had bonded with almost immediately, had taken him to Rivendell in much haste. You had been left behind, since Arwen’s horse couldn’t carry multiple hobbits and an elf. You had been very distraught since then, not attempting to hold back your fear. Strider had led you, Sam, Merry, and Pippin as quickly as you could manage to Rivendell. Ever since you had arrived, you and Sam had hardly slept. You had stayed right by Frodo’s side as long as Elrond would let you. Finally, though, he had asked you to stand out of the way so you had taken a seat on a soft recamier that sat right outside Frodo’s room and, apparently, you had fallen asleep. 

But you were awake now, and all was well now that Frodo was healed. For the first time since your arrival, you were able to take in the beauty of the Hidden Valley. You felt wholly at peace. You rested your chin and arms on the balcony’s edge, closing your eyes and listening to the song of a waterfall not far away.

“Y/N,” a soft voice behind you called.

You whirled around. Frodo stood there, alive and well. A smile was on his face and in his eyes.

“Frodo!” You leapt into his open arms, hugging him as tight as you could without hurting him. “Frodo! I was so frightened when you left! I thought . . . I thought . . .” You could not finish the sentence for you were so overwhelmed with joy that it spilled out of your heart and eyes.

“I am here,” Frodo said, stroking your head. “I shan’t leave you. I will not.”

For a few sweet moments, the two of you held each other in the golden sunlight of the day, not saying anything because nothing needed to be said. Then Sam, Merry, and Pippin ran up and there was much joy in the reunion. Everyone was talking at once, full of merriment and delight. You couldn’t describe how glad you were to see a smile on Frodo’s face again and life in his lovely eyes. His laugh was priceless and endlessly pleasant to listen to. It healed any remnants of fear and doubt that lingered in your heart, filling it (if it was possible) with even more joy. It was then that Frodo spotted Bilbo sitting not far away on a stone bench.

“Bilbo!” Frodo cried, running up to give him a hug.

“Frodo, my lad!” Bilbo said, returning the gesture. “And you too, Y/N. Come on!” He beckoned you to join the hug. You didn’t object.

You had been quite close to Bilbo ever since you and Frodo had started courting. You had loved the old hobbit dearly and you had helped him a lot with his book. You were fascinated by his tales of his adventures and, like Frodo, had secretly wished to go on an adventure of your own some day. That day had come sooner than you had thought, but you weren’t going to complain. Everything was alright and you were happy.

“Come,” Bilbo said at last, “I have things to show you both.” And he led the two of you off.

⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘

You and Frodo spent most of the day with Bilbo. He had made much progress in his book and you were quite delighted to see the beautiful thing. Bilbo also showed you around Rivendell a bit. You saw stunning waterfalls, exquisite marble buildings, and ancient trees. The elves were all very nice but also mysterious, not in a bad way necessarily. You could see some deep meaning in their eyes that seemed beyond your reach of thought, something sad and wise. You didn’t bother much about it though, for you thought it would possibly be thought rude to ask about it if ever you could put it into words.

Towards sunset as the day bid farewell, painting the sky stunning colors, Bilbo left you and Frodo to talk to Gandalf a bit, wherever he might have been. Frodo then offered you his arm and you walked slowly down the paths Bilbo had shown you earlier.

“It has been quite a day,” Frodo said, laying his head on yours which rested on his shoulder.

“Indeed it has,” you said, closing your eyes. “I’m just glad I got to spend it with you.”

“As am I.” Frodo smiled at you, something that filled you with warmth no matter what, and kissed your head so gently you barely felt it.

You reached out your hand and caressed his cheek with the utmost care and then brushed back a rouge hair from his face.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“And I love you, Y/N. More than I can say.” Frodo tenderly pressed his forehead against yours.

“Mr. Frodo!”

You and Frodo suddenly let go and you turned to face Sam who had appeared now in front of you. Frodo’s face flushed and you avoided Sam’s gaze and scuffed a leaf that lay on the ground, smiling.

“Oh . . .” Sam said, scratching his head. “Sorry Mr. Frodo. Begging your pardon, and you too Miss Y/N. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“What is it, Sam?” Frodo asked.

“Well, I was just going to say that Pippin told me that Bilbo told him that tonight the elves are hosting a feast in your honor. There’s going to be singing and dancing and lots of food. It’ll be a jolly good time! I best get ready now.” With that Sam went off and disappeared.

“Singing and dancing,” you said, looking at Frodo. “Sounds to me like a good time. I wonder how elvish parties compare to our hobbit ones?”

“I guess we will find out,” Frodo said. You took his arm again and then you headed off. The sun lowered below the mountains just then, and many torches were lit simultaneously. You could see shapes of elves and other figures making their way towards the Hall of Fire, where the banquet was to be held.

⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘

It was a good time indeed. There were foods of the like which you had never seen before that had wonderful tastes. Everything was delicious. Elrond, Strider, Arwen, Gandalf, and all the hobbits were present along with many elves and even some people from other lands. You had heard whispers of some council being held the next day but Gandalf wouldn’t tell you anything. You didn’t fret too much and decided to enjoy the night. 

After the feast finished, everyone migrated to the central part of the Hall where many fires were lit. The walls glowed subtle orange like that of clay or rust with flickers of flashing yellow. Immediately, some of the elves started singing in their tongue a song of days long past. You and Frodo sat on a small couch-like seat along the wall and watched them. As they sang, though you knew not what they said, you could see in your mind oceans and mountains, plains and forests, elves dancing, beasts roaming, and silver stars lighting an endless night. For some reason you did not understand, it brought tears to your eyes and try as you might, you couldn’t hold them back. Frodo put his arm around you and you leaned into him, smiling. The elves sang many songs, some sad and sweet, some lively and filled with laughter.

A good while passed and you and Frodo were watching everything intently and full of wonder. Finally, Strider stood with Arwen and the elves formed a ring around them with their partners. The ones playing the instruments began a calm and happy song that started out slow at first. As Arwen and Strider gilded flawlessly over the floor, they beckoned you to join the company.

“Come,” Strider said as they passed by. “Come, both of you, and join the dance.”

“I do not prefer to dance in front of so many,” you said.

“It is a blessed dance,” Arwen replied. “You will be glad for it.”

“Would it be alright if we just sat here?” Frodo asked meekly.

“Come! Join us!” Strider beckoned again.

You looked at Frodo whose face was as indecisive as you felt. He met your gaze and Strider bade you both to join them again. Some of the other elves insisted too.

“Let us see how the halflings meet the music,” they said.

Finally, you gave way. Frodo stood and held out his hand and you took it. The ring of elves parted to allow the two of you into the middle. Frodo guided you to the middle where Strider and Arwen were swaying in perfect rhythm. They seemed to be anticipating a change in the song. Frodo held your hands in his own and glanced around unsure of what to do next.

“I am not entirely sure what we are doing, exactly,” Frodo whispered to you.

“Neither am I,” you whispered back.

“Follow where the music leads,” Arwen called. “Move your feet and the song will take care of the rest.”

You started out like Strider and Arwen, moving slowly and staying in step, but just as you had presumed, the music began to quicken. Arwen and Strider moved quicker but not less smoothly. You and Frodo followed, quickening your steps. The elves were happy that you had joined and were comfortable enough to do such a daring thing. They cared less whether or not your movement was pleasurable. Suddenly, the music took a leap and those around you started clapping in rhythm. The instruments sang louder and faster now.

“Let us show them how hobbits meet music,” Frodo said with a smile. He didn’t seem as nervous now. You weren’t either, only a little.

You grinned. “Shall we?”

All in one moment, you and Frodo picked up your pace, dancing in brilliant hobbit fashion. You both were rather used to moving with fast-paced music, as was tradition at most parties. The two of you skipped around and laughed as you did. Frodo twirled you and led you steadily through. All that were watching were delighted, but especially Sam, Merry, and Pippin who almost joined in themselves. More took part in the clapping and Arwen and Strider stepped out of the circle to give the two of you space. The song was ever heightening and quickening. Soon, you thought your feet barely touched the floor, but Frodo made sure neither of you fell. Finally, the song came to its end with a sudden leap and everyone clapped. Frodo laughed and you couldn’t stop smiling from the exuberance of it all.

“Halflings can meet the music indeed!” Aragorn said, patting Frodo on the shoulder.

“I hope we did not disappoint,” Frodo said.

“No, you went beyond expectation, Mr. Underhill. A fine couple the two of you make.”

You looked away bashfully and Frodo smiled, looking down. Frodo then gave you his arm and led you off the dancing floor.

“That was something,” you said at last, sitting down.

“Indeed. It wasn’t too much to ask, I hope?” Frodo said.

“Oh, no. In front of so many people is slightly uncomfortable, but someone once said that there are better things than being comfortable. I guess it is good to do something you normally wouldn’t every now and then, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” Frodo looked at the arched doorway of the Hall of Fire. Night was full and the moon was high. “I would like to walk out there tonight. Would you like to come?”

“Of course,” you said, standing. “I don’t want to leave your side again.”

Frodo put his arm around you and the two of you disappeared unnoticed, at least, you thought you were unnoticed, but the others let you be, smiling at your tender affection. You and Frodo walked much like you had earlier that day, with your head on his shoulder, taking in the beauty of it all. And the night was beautiful indeed. Other than the elves singing, there were the waterfalls and crickets. Everything was brushed gently in the moon and starlight. Everything felt peaceful, as if nothing was wrong in the world. Of course, you knew that wasn’t true, but in Rivendell it was, and you were wholly content to be with Frodo. You wanted nothing else, and that much you made rather plain. You noticed now that Frodo was looking at you.

“Is . . . is something on your mind Y/N?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing much, really,” you said. “I love this place, Rivendell. Bilbo was right, it is magnificent. It is wonderful but more than that, I am glad you are here and are well. I’ve never known such fear and loneliness as when you left, but I also have never known such joy and gratitude as when you came back. You mean more to me than I could properly describe and I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Frodo said. “I do know it and I love you for it. I love you the same, though I am no poet. I wouldn’t ask for another, Y/N. I never would. Whether we go home after this, or something other, I want you to know that I am extremely thankful that you are here. I want you here always. I want to be here always.”

“And I will be here always,” you said, smiling. “I mean that as a promise, Mr. Underhill.”

“Then I double the promise,” Frodo said, holding you in his arms. “I shall be here always.”

[duchessdepolignaca03]

Thanks @priincebutt for the tag! This is an open tag, because I don't want to tag anyone specifically as some of these questions are a little sketch, so the answers below are a little obtuse/long-winded. This was SUPER FUN though!

Are you named after anyone?

Yes - a pop star and a jewelry company/type of diamond cut. 

When was the last time you cried?

During Totality of the 2024 Solar Eclipse, genuinely one of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring moments of my life.  I was struck by the beauty of the corona which shimmered like diamonds in the sky, struck by perfect randomness of the universe that that gave us a sun that’s 400x bigger than the moon and 400x as far, creating the perfect symmetry to allow for a solar eclipse, and how this same random perfection gave me my daughter, loving husband and all the privileges I have in my life.

Hours before, I also shed frustrated and sad tears that my enjoyment of a fandom that has given me so much joy and creative inspiration has soured over being soundly, but unexpectedly, rejected. Frustrated and sad that I may have to bow out and give up something I thoroughly enjoyed giving my free labour to and through which I have made some wonderful friends that have buoyed me over the past year.  

Do you have kids?

See above.

What sports do you play/have you played?

I was never a sporty kid, but as an adult I discovered running, which has both been a lifeline and a source of endless frustration and pain. I’ve run a marathon, about a dozen half marathons,  innumerable 5ks and 10ks and kicked the butt of a 30k once in a winter storm. I can’t wait to rediscover running again and start my running journey from scratch.

Do you use sarcasm?

Not as much as I wish I would like. I’m not as spicy as I think I am, haha. 

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

How they are treating me, which tells me how they want to be treated back.

What’s your eye color?

Dark like my soul! You can hardly see my pupils, and its not because I’m high! 

Scary movies or happy endings comedies?

Neither! I love a good story, I love a drama. My favourite films recently have been films that felt simultaneously satisfying and unsatisfying at the same time. Both feature Paul Mescal (Aftersun and All of Us Strangers), and focus on parenthood and the relationships we have with the memories of our parents.

Any talents?

Not really? I suppose I have a talent for seeming more enthusiastic about things than I really am. 

Where were you born?

In a city in an archipelago in the Pacific Ocean. 

What are your hobbies?

Motherhood and full time job life doesn’t leave a lot of time for hobbies, but I l have love engaging in the RWRB fandom, and reading and writing and making some amazing friends. Before writing  and posting fanfiction, I did a lot of roleplaying on IJ, Tumblr and Discord. I enjoy broadway musicals and watching too much British television. I also love riding the Peloton and a good strength session!

Do you have any pets?

Yes. But I see you with this revealing security question, potential fraudster :P

How tall are you?

I grew up in poverty in a developing country, subsisting mostly on rice and coffee and white bread with mayonnaise (yes, mayonnaise), raised by a loving but chain-smoking mother. There was no hope for me to become taller than an oversized hobbit. Let’s just say my husband and I have to toggle the Peloton back and forth between the most extreme settings possible.

Favorite subject in school?

History and Politics. The great loves of my life, if its not already obvious.

Dream job?

My current job is nominally my dream job. However, I would like to serve a government that genuinely cares about the public, that thinks beyond myopic and cynical politics and actually wants to improve the lives of ordinary citizens, uplift the vulnerable, tax the shit out of the rich and - at minimum - not support genocide. 

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

wrote a tiny lil ficlet about t4t steddie having a baby, kind of an amalgamation of all my many posts on the subject. yes i AM going through it rn why do you ask

Stevie's been taking Eddie's pregnancy pretty hard. She's excited of course, and it was her idea in the first place (not that Eddie's complaining), but sometimes Eddie catches her watching him with tears in her eyes, and it breaks his heart to see his wife upset over something so beautiful.

He's assuming it's a jealousy thing. They haven't talked about it much. Once, when his belly was just beginning to show, they lined up sideways in front of a mirror, Stevie in front, so that all that was showing of Eddie was his bump, sticking out behind Stevie like it was her belly swelling with their child. She'd cried then too, but before Eddie could say anything she'd covered his face in a thousand little kisses and pretty thoroughly distracted him for the next hour.

Right now, they're sitting at the kitchen counter eating dinner. Stevie asks him to pass the salt.

Eddie looks down, where the salt shaker is sitting by his left elbow. “Hmm… I mean I would but I’m just… soo pregnant….. don't know if I should be doing all that heavy lifting.”

Stevie snorts and rolls her eyes. Eddie's been doing this for the entirety of his pregnancy, which he maintains is his right as a pregnant person. Most of their friends are pretty done with his shit, with the exception of Dustin, who's developed a case of baby stress that frankly concerns both Stevie and Eddie. If Eddie so much as sighs too hard Dustin is already up and asking what he can do to help Eddie and his future goddaughter. D&D has been interesting lately.

“Eddie. Please?”

Eddie puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m sorry Stevie, do you want to endanger our baby?”

He's expecting another laugh, or one of those dry, sarcastic remarks that made him fall in love with his wife in the first place, but instead he's met with silence. He turns to Stevie, who is once again staring at him with tears in her eyes.

“Hey, baby,” he says, rubbing one hand along her arm and bringing the other to her face to wipe the tears away. “I was just kidding, I know you don't want to hurt her. You can have the salt if you want.”

Stevie gives a wet laugh. “It's not about the salt, dumbass.”

“What is it about, baby? Because I feel like half the time I look at you these days you're on the verge of crying.”

“I just- I feel-” Stevie sighs, looking up to the heavens like that'll help her find her words. “We're going to be a family, y’know? Like, you're my husband, and we're going to have a daughter, and you're gonna be the dad and I’m gonna be the mom and every time I look at you I remember and I just- I love you so much, y’know? And I love her so much. So like. They're good tears, don't worry.”

Eddie smiles at his beautiful wife, who's always been so full of love he wondered if she might explode, and who now seems to be doing just that. “Jeez, I thought I was the one who was supposed to be all pregnancy-weepy,” he says, definitely not wiping away a tear of his own as he does so.

Stevie laughs. “I think it's a sympathy thing. I’m like this when Robin’s on her period too, I have no idea why.”

“Well you and Robin share a brain, so it's not that weird.”

Stevie shoves him, gently, and then her hand falls to the swell of his belly. “I love her so much, Eds. I can't stop thinking about it, like, doing her hair, teaching her to swim, coaching her softball team-”

“I’m gonna cut you off there, Steph. Bad enough I married a jock, I refuse to give birth to one too,” Eddie says, fondness in his voice betraying him. “I’m gonna teach her guitar and how to play D&D, and I’m reading her The Hobbit every night. Should counteract your DNA enough that she doesn't end up too cool.”

“Her godparents are Dustin and Robin, I think it's physically impossible for her to end up cool,” Stevie says with a laugh. Her gaze softens as she feels a gentle kick beneath her hand. “I don't want her to be cool, though. I just want her to be happy.”

Eddie places his hand over Stevie's, gives it a gentle squeeze. Their daughter shifts contentedly inside of him, and he thinks about how he completely understands Stevie being so happy and full of love that she cries every time she sees him.

“Yeah,” he says, focusing all his energy on their daughter, trying to telepathically communicate the love he and her mother feel for her through their shared bloodstreams. “I think we can do happy.”

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✧ ━━ 𝐄𝐆𝐆'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒

Tagged by: @mxlevolence ( mmmwah! thank you! ♥

Tagging: @agonizedembrace, @aquatic-hybrid, @thegoldentigress, @songofsilentechoes, @hemoplagued, @pitgritted, @tealbeats, @hallowedhem, @burntscars, @johnnysslaughter, @manufactoredxbyxdesign, @bamsidsuperbitch

Comfort food(s): Fresh baked bread and any/all soups ( you guys have no idea how excited I am to shift into soup season ), stew is also something that's comforting to me since my Nan used to make it for me whenever she visited! And naturally with my ancestry ━

Comfort drink(s): Mate, my childhood bestfriend's mom used to get this ready for us all the time, and it quickly became something I've associated with that warm fuzzy memory! Honestly probably anything I can put in boiling water to make it taste different ꉂ (´∀｀)ʱªʱªʱª ! Oh yeah - Coquito 100% Nothing like sipping that while writing on the porch with the snow falling, a blanket on my lap, and my dog being dumb

Comfort movie(s): Fantasia! I used to watch this movie with my Nan almost everyday when she would visit me, it was always one of my favorite things to do even if I was afraid of Chernabog. It's ridiculous how deeply I've memorized it, I could probably lay here with my eyes shut and watch it in my brain without missing any sections („ಡωಡ„) NATURALLY Peter Jackson's EXTENDED LOTR Trilogy BABYYYY - I cry about 10 times each movie but Frodo is a massive role model for me and I love him a lot! When I found out that I share the same MBTI as him I was like ╭( ๐_๐)╮and then I cried. Don't get me started, I won't stop - this is for your own good. Hercules is another big one, it's just such an easy watch and it makes me happy. I have watched it an embarrassingly amount of times with @magicshadowkitten

Comfort show(s): I didn't really watch TV as a youngin, but I was able to finally get into shows during college - D. Gray Man is one of my favorites! JJBA too - I have a lot of good memories with my friends from both of these! @bells-of-black-sunday showed me Over the Garden Wall and it quickly rooted itself as one of my favorites, its the ✨whimsy✨

Comfort clothing: I really adore feminine, flowy dresses/skirts, and coordinating outfits before hand. I never really had the opportunity growing up to explore a lot of fashion, and I have found out that I absolutely adore looking like a lil fairy, so I never really learned how to put together outfits on the fly. So! I actually have outfits preplanned with accessories, shoes, and bags too because if I don't I won't know what to do. ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾ Its kind of embarrassing but I've accepted it as part of my neurodivergency; its also a lot easier for me to shop for an outfit vs items that can mis and match into various ones. I also work from home so, if I can dress up I will! It makes me feel pretty

Comfort song(s): Wahh!! I listen to so many songs and my music taste is all over the place!!! If I had to pick a few off the top of my head:

Nights in White Satin - The Moody Blues ━━ This song is actually one of my favorites but the reason why doesn't involve me at all? When I first heard it I was in the car driving with my mom, and she got so giddy and explained that this was the song playing when she met her ( still! ) best friend at a bar almost 25 years ago. My mom and her started singing it together and honestly that story just ? effected me so much? Whenever I'm in a pub or bar and it comes on I call my mom and tell her its playing and we sing it together too! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯ Entire LOTR OST ━━ I need not explain, ya'll understand. Pretty Much Anything by Pink Floyd

Comfort book(s): Lord of the Rings Trilogy & The Hobbit ━ J. R. R. Tolkien The Divine Comedy ━ Dante Alighieri ( nostalgia ) ━━ I don't really read comforting books so I don't feel like I can continue the list as the books I read have existential content that is not at all comforting! I tend to read stories like Blood Meridian or No Longer Human, and I tend to not revisit them quickly because of the content (ಥ﹏ಥ) because even if I enjoy them I'm a big baby

Comfort game(s): League of Legends ( don't judge me i play with friends and dont flame ) : tbh this is the only game I actually play the rest I mostly just watch playthroughs of because again the content I like to watch is existential as well and I am a very easily frightened person! So ━ I really liked watching my best friend play Resident Evil! I also watched @bells-of-black-sunday play Bugsnax and it is SUCH a cute game, it has amazing characters and a really interesting plotline - !

[inklessletter]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

I got tagged by the lovely @zerokrox-blog, @steddieas-shegoes and my sis from another miss @mentallyundone. Thank you so much!!

Are you named after anyone? Well. That's a funny story ('funny' now because time has passed and were other stuff more important going on) but my parents made an agreement that if I was born female my mom would pick the name, and if I was born male, then my father would. Things got messy during labour and both my mom and I had a hard time. Doctors told my parent that I wouldn't survive the following two weeks. So my dad went to register my birth, while my mom and I were still at the hospital, and my dad knew that my mom's girl name dream was 'Rocío'. Technically I was going to be named like that, but after the doctors' news my dad didn't want my mom's dream girly name to be attached to something so devastating as losing her firstborn, so he passed by a fashion store called "Vanesa's wardrobe" and registered me as such. So, I guess I am technically named after a store.

When was the last time you cried? Yesterday. Out of pure stress.

Do you have kids? No, I don't. I hope to be a mom someday, I've got so much love to give <3

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Only in my closest circle. I am afraid that I will someday use sarcasm and I get missunderstood and I make a fool of myself. Also, I might offend someone accidentally, so, I guess I use sarcasm when I am comfortable to know that I'm not going to be taken seriously.

What sports do you play/have you played? My mom tried so hard. She enrolled me into karate, tennis, gymnastics, flamenco dancing, salsa and bachata... I like dancing, but... I don't like getting sweaty. Ugh.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? The energy.

What’s your eye color? That's uh, weird. They are green, yellow and blue. From afar they tend to look more like green, but they're multicolored, really.

Scary movies or happy endings? Uh, there are scary movies with happy endings. I don't see how these are antonyms. I guess I am more incline to happy endings.

Any special talents? No, not really. I'm pretty average.

Where were you born? Málaga, Spain. (Very beautiful city, full of life and sunburnts, very loud, full of beaches. Come see me, I'll get you the best churros)

What are your hobbies? Right now reading, writing and drawing. Drawing specially. But I like bowling a lot. And OH, I am a board game enthusiast. I do love old supermario games, and I actually won tetris. Twice (is that a special talent, though?). My favorite game is Pandemic and Catan.

Do you have pets? I've got the laziest dog. His name is Appa, after Aang's flying bison. No, he doesn't fly. (He doesn't even run).

How tall are you? 5'0 (154 cm). That's right folks! I can proudly say that I'm the tallest hobbit you'll ever meet.

Favorite subject in school? Art and English.

Dream job? I would very much to make a living out of my art. That's a long shot, but if I ever grow bold enough I might open a patreon or something. I've thought of becoming a tattoo artist, too. For years I've been wanting to become a (sexy) librarian (Belle just got really imprinted in my psyche as a child, I guess.)

Let me know you, babes @spicysix @matchingbatbites @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @auroraplume @flowercrowngods @2btheanswertothequestion @scoops-stevie

[youareunbearable]

Was just reading your work and imagined a Maglor with the hobbits but it’s also your Pokemon au as well how do you think miriel absol would think about him being this close all along

Oh thank you for reading my ficlets! Im glad you liked them!! 💜💜💜

Personally, I think she knows. Being a pokemon that is so intuned to Maglor’s singing, through vibrations in the Music or something, and since Elrond lets her and Halda just roam (they're outside pets basically, even if Elrond would like them to spend more time in Rivendell proper with him) and it isn't weird of she strays for a couple of days, or follows Elrond’s twins on a hunt of theyre going west.

She stays by the rivers, close to the Brandywine and a Vaporeon will emerge to gossip with her. He'll tell her about how things are going with Maglor, and at first they're dreadful, but over the years and decades the news will become lighter until they are laughing at tales of Old Maggie Took.

Shes pleased, with Maglor’s healing. She grieves a little wishing Maedhros could have had the chance to heal with his brother as Halda dreams of when the Absol shares the news with the Zoroark. But well, maybe its for the best. She tries to lead Elrond’s sons to Hobbiton more than once, but the little beings think its such a fun game to play keep away with the elves that she hardly bothers anymore. Maglor is happy, and she tries her best to inform Elrond of that, so he's happy as he can be too.

Its only on one visit, well into the third millenia of the 3rd Age when she feels it. Her skin crawls and her fur stands on edge, something she's never felt on the edges of the Shire before, even when she travels through or past those haunted hills of the former Human Kingdoms. This is a different type of evil, a pure type she hasn't felt in Ages, last on the battlefield that shattered Kunyar and made the ghost pokemon dormant. She races into the Shire for the first time, not caring who sees her as she tracks the source of the Evil.

Soon, she crests a small hill, perching on top of a little hobbit hole, a light growl escaping her teeth and she glares down, down at the little being with something so FOUL in his pocket.

"My Goodness!" The little being gasps, hands inching towards his hip where a sword might be if he carried one on him. He trembled in his garden, realizing he has nowhere to run if she left at him.

And she could, she could jump and rip that nasty little thing in his pocket right off him, run it back to Elrond and Halda for they'll know what to do with the Ring.

But before she could do anything, a large Corviknight screamsbpopping out of the little wooden ball that Mortals like to keep their pokemon in. He roars and flaps his giant wings, furious at her for threatening HIS former master's dear Burglar. She could take this silly bird, but she won't. Before she can lunge with a fire fang, out of the corner of her eye she spots a Vaporeon dashing out from the river behind this hobbit hole.

"Stop!" He cries, "What are you doing you can't attack Bilbo! Hes done nothing wrong!"

The Absol shakes off the pleading, standing tall and knowing all eyes are on her, hobbit, pokemon, and even a single Elf gaze, shocked and stunned at seeing her for the first time in over 6 thousand years.

"Hear me!" She calls, knowing that only the pokemon can understand her words, but watching the Hobbits flinch away from her cry. "Hear me because I feel a great evil in this land! A discordant note in the Song and it resides in the shape of a ring in his pocket." She turns to peer at the hobbit, at Bilbo, from around the Corviknight. The hobbit shrinks behind the large pokemon. "That ring will bring downfall and doom! Beware!"

With that, and a fleeting glance towards Maglor once more, drinking in his healthy glow and well dressed, if strange, appearance, then bounds back to Rivendell.

Halda needs to know about this maybe she can speak to Elrond and warn him.

[zoeoe-sims]

15 questions for 15 mutuals

I was tagged by a few people but it's been quite a while so I'm not sure who they all were anymore (I also noticed that I don't always get a notification for tags, and only realised I was tagged was because I saw the post in my feed - what's up with that?) but anyway I am grateful for being included and I really enjoyed reading everyone's posts and getting to know you guys better <3

Are you named after anyone?

My parents chose my first name by going through the alphabet and picking one they liked, so they were kinda running out of options by the time they got to mine. I have another name that is indirectly after a relative.

When was the last time you cried?

I don't remember exactly when but maybe around a month ago.

Do you have kids?

I do not but I used to have a pet hedgehog if that counts. (I do have a dog too but he's more like my mum's baby, my brother! :D)

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I don't think I use it a lot but maybe sometimes.

What sports do you play/have you played? 

Hehe no... I have never been into sports. I do yoga, miniscule jogs, and walks with the doggo as far as exercise goes but yeah... not really sports.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

I guess it depends on the person, if something about their appearance/voice/manner stands out then I'd notice that first. Which I know is a pretty generic answer! :p

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings cos I'm a coward. I generally watch/read things to feel better so being scared or depressed isn't really what I want from movies! Though I can appreciate a bitter sweet or uncertain ending.

Any special talents? 

Yes! I can wiggle my ears and do up necklace clasps around the back of my neck pretty easily (like instead of doing it up at the front and twisting it round). I am very talented! Too bad I don't wear necklaces much...

Where were you born?

Somewhere... 👀 

What are your hobbies?

Theoretically, I have a few hobbies. As well as simming/some other games, I play the piano, draw and watercolour paint occasionally, crochet, knitting, reading... But in reality I spend so much time procrastinating and panic-doing my university work that I spend a lot of time doing not very much.

Do you have any pets?

A doggo called Alfie, he's very handsome and I love him.

How tall are you?

A fellow hobbit to @aisquaredchoco :D

Fave subject in school?

For me it mainly depended on the teacher. I'm not sure it was my favourite but I chose to do a lot of Maths so at some level I must have enjoyed it :D

Dream job?

I have a dream of living in a cabin/cottage in the woods with chickens and a garden (and wifi for making and sharing sims mods of course!). I have never dreamed of a career, but something that would also allow me to fulfil my forest goblin dream would be cool.

Otherwise I'd like to do something that in some way helps people, and is good for people/society in general *shrug*

Eye color? 

Blue!

I know I'm a bit late to the party, but I will tag @oasissimming, @thesweetsimmer111 and @bietjie. Feel free to ignore if you don't want to or have already done it!

[tamurilofrivendell]

The Princess & the Guard | part one

Read on AO3

Characters: Tauriel & Calithil (OC - Thranduil’s daughter) Supporting/Mentioned Characters: Legolas. Thranduil. Caleniel (Thranduil’s wife) Chapter summary: The first meeting between Princess Calithil of Mirkwood and future border guard, Tauriel when the two were still juveniles. A/N: I’ve read two conflicting answers for Tauriel’s ages in The Hobbit but I’ve foregone the movie age I think and in my version, the Elvenqueen is still alive when Tauriel is first brought in as a juvenile :) Translations: adar (father) // emel (mother) // pîn ithil (little moon) // nethig (little sister) // elleth (elf-maid)

The first time Calithil met Tauriel, the two were around the same age, and still children by all accounts. Her father had brought the little orphan back to his halls, placing her under the care of him and his wife. He had summoned his daughter to the royal halls where he had set the auburn-haired Tauriel down in front of a warm meal that she did not have the appetite for. He had hoped that the two little girls might get along and perhaps walk in the gardens or read in the library or play together in Calithil’s room with her many, many toys and trinkets.

Imagine the king’s surprise, then, at how their first meeting unfolded.

“This is Tauriel.” He had told his fair-haired daughter when she had reached the room. She stood, biting her lip as she blinked from her father to the fiery-haired stranger sitting in her chair at the table. “She has suffered a great loss, pîn ithil.” Thranduil had continued, though he did not yet go into any detail. He reached out to brush his fingers gently through Calithil’s hair before glancing back to Tauriel, who was doing a rather decent impression of a statue. “She is to stay with us. I hope you will make her feel welcome.”

It had always been her way, to want to make her father proud of her. If he wanted her to help make this new young elf feel at home then that was what she would do. Besides, she felt a sort of excitement tugging at her because Calithil had never had that many friends. There had been few elflings for her to play or interact with growing up.

So the little princess had sauntered confidently up to Tauriel and smiled at her, holding out her hand to shake the other’s in the way that she had witnessed many of the adults around her doing over the years. “Hello!” Instead of waiting for Tauriel to return the gesture, Calithil reached out to take the other’s hand in her own.

Thranduil had smiled, watching the interaction with a soft sense of pride. Yes, he decided, this should work out quite nicely.

Then Tauriel had lunged forward and sank her teeth into the porcelain skin of Calithil’s hand.

Calithil’s shriek was heard all the way down to the throne room.

Thranduil had moved to snatch his daughter back immediately but it was too late. Calithil had already thrown herself at Tauriel in retaliation, tackling the other to the floor. There they rolled, a blur of limbs and hair before Thranduil carefully thrust his arms down and wrangled the both of them apart. If he could manage armies, surely he could manage two juvenile elves!

He held them away from each other, quite unsure how this had gotten away from him so quickly.

“Enough. Both of you.” His voice was a whip and the two young elves turned their attention to him. Where Calithil had tears in her eyes, Tauriel had rage. She rather struck Thranduil as a cornered doe. “You will cease this foolishness at once! This is not how ladies behave.”

“What’s going on in here?” Came the soft voice of the Elvenqueen, Caleniel, from the doorway, drawn by the sound of her daughter’s shout. Thranduil turned to look at his wife, relief shining in his eyes.

“Emel!” Calithil cried, springing away from her father and bounding towards her mother, who wrapped her arms around her in comfort. “Adar said to make her-” She paused to jab a finger towards the other elf. “-feel welcome and she bit me!” Calithil concluded, flashing a bitter scowl at Tauriel as she thrust her hand out in front of her mother’s face so that she could see the damage.

“Ah, yes, I see.” Caleniel nodded sagely, sighing as she brushed her fingers softly over the bite mark before turning to look over her shoulder as she sensed the presence of her eldest. Legolas had come to linger in the hallway but she gestured for him to come closer so he did, moving round the doorframe and into view.

Thranduil watched Tauriel’s eyes dart to the newcomer with intrigue.

Legolas hid a smile and reached out for his sister. “Calithil.” He said gently, drawing her attention. Her brow was set in a deep frown and her cheeks were wet with tears.

“She bit me!” She repeated, blinking up at her brother.

Legolas nodded. “I know. That was wrong of her.” He met Tauriel’s eyes for a moment then and she lowered her gaze. Legolas leaned in closer to his sister, as though sharing a secret, voice a mock-whisper. “But I don’t think she really meant it. I think she is only scared.”

“Scared?” Calithil lifted her arm, wiping her face on the sleeve of her dress. Thranduil frowned briefly at the expensive fabric possibly being ruined but he was silently admonished by a glance from Caleniel that reminded him that it didn’t really matter. “What does she have to be scared of?” Calithil contnued, oblivious. “Not me? I didn’t do anything!”

“No, no. Not you, nethig.” Legolas shook his head gently. “Of the place she came here from... and the things that she saw there.” He watched his sister digesting this information for a moment before he continued. “You see, adar brought Tauriel from a very sad situation. It was very, very scary... and we know that you don’t mean any harm, those of us who know you so well, but she does not.”

Calithil was frowning softly as she turned this over in her mind. Her lips were pursed as she looked from her brother, to her bitten hand, to the young elleth who was now sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, knees drawn up to her chest and her face hidden.

After a beat, she took a couple of shuffling steps closer, though her gaze was still slightly narrowed in distrust. She turned to look at her father, who gave her a little nod of encouragement. Bolstered by this, Calithil turned back to Tauriel, moving over to stand in front of her, looking thoughtful. The auburn-haired female didn’t move a muscle but she was held as taut as a bowstring, ready to jump at any given moment.

Calithil reached into the large pocket on the side of her dress and pulled out an acorn. She had a habit of collecting them whenever she went outside, foraging for hours if she was left to her own devices. The squirrels usually got there first so her collection was still small.

She held the acorn out in the space between them. Tauriel, all her senses engaged, tentatively raised her head to look at the blonde who she had not five minutes ago taken a bite out of. Her gaze fell on the acorn and then flickered back to Calithil’s face, searching for signs of a trick.

She saw none.

All she saw looking back at her was fresh understanding and a soft smile.

Calithil gestured slightly, moving the acorn. “Here! It’s one of my favourites. You can have it. Do you like trees?”

Tauriel eyed her cautiously for another long moment before she slowly started to reach her fingers out towards the acorn and nodded. She still didn’t speak.

Calithil took her acceptance of the little woodland gift as a good sign and moved to lower herself very slowly to the floor in front of Tauriel, though this time she kept a little more space between the two of them, and she did not reach out to touch her.

“Do you ever listen to the trees talk?” She asked the redhead, who frowned and shook her head, looking suddenly confused again, as if Calithil was speaking a strange language.

Calithil’s eyes widened just a little as she wondered where and what this elleth had come from to never have listened to the trees, especially with a name such a Tauriel; daughter of the forest. “Oh!” She exclaimed, shocked. “Well, that’s okay. I can show you. Would you like me to?”

Thranduil moved away from them when he deemed it was safe to now leave them together, padding towards Caleniel and wrapping his arms around her from behind, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She hummed and leaned back against him, her head falling back against his shoulder. “I think they just might get on after all.” She murmured, smiling fondly at their daughter.

“Yes... you might be right.” He turned his attention to his wife’s ear, his lips ghosting the pointed tip and making her shiver.

Legolas cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. “Okay. Well, I saved the day, so you’re welcome.” He told his parents sarcastically. “But, please, if you do not wish to scar your daughter as you have your son, take this into another room.”

The prince’s quick retreat down the hall was followed by his father’s uproarious laughter.

Tauriel, too, turned to watch him leave before her attention moved back to Calithil, who had by this point gotten her up onto her feet and was showing her around the room. She still hadn’t spoken a word but she was feeling less like she had to kill or be killed.

Thranduil made a mental note to keep an eye on the juvenile’s apparent fascination with Legolas as his wife took his hand and pulled him from the room.

“Let them be.” She said softly, when he tried to protest that he wanted to be close in case another incident occurred. “All is well now. You do not need to hover.”

One more glance back at his daughter reaching up to carefully pluck a little twig from Tauriel’s hair caused him to tense just briefly but Thranduil immediately relaxed again when Tauriel simply tilted her head and smiled the thinnest little smile... but a smile nonetheless. He turned without any further arguments to follow his wife, satisfied that his original plan had finally been achieved.