#before gandalf even shows up

[thesummerestsolstice]

I love how the entrance to Rivendell is shown in the Hobbit movies– the path is clearly enchanted; the geography is wonky, and the passage only shows up when Thorin & co really need to escape danger.

I feel like this is just how Rivendell works– there are no set pathways in and out of the valley, strange corridors and hidden passages to it just show up when and where they're needed. People who have been to Rivendell before can usually find their way back pretty easily, but even they usually can't explain exactly how they got there. Only the residents of Rivendell can reliably lead others to the valley– and Galadriel, because she's Galadriel. It usually takes Gandalf a while to find the path. He's convinced Elrond just like messing with him.

This is very much Elrond channeling his inner Melian. Doriath was extremely hard to get into, but in the normal fairy way where you just get lost in the woods endlessly if you're not welcome, and the forest parts for you if you are. Elrond saw that and decided to spice things up a little for his realm. You know, some impossible rock formations, a few very strange trees, landscaping that is vaguely beyond mortal comprehension, all that.

Rivendell's residents think it's great. Most outsiders think it's a little creepy.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship at fancy restaurants:

aragorn: literally would not care if he ate gas station sushi at a truckstop, does not see the appeal of fancy but appreciates the atmosphere. likes taking arwen out for fancy food, great at scouting out the genuinely good places, not just the expensive ones.

boromir: will fight you over paying the check. his current move is pretend to go to the bathroom, stop by the concierge’s desk and drop off his credit card there. always gets some sort of steak.

merry: deceptively well mannered. is polite and well spoken. offers to foot the bill (rich parents) but it’s an empty gesture cuz my man doesn’t carry a wallet on him 90% of the time.

pippin: gets like 80 appetizers and dessert. eats a little off of everyone’s plate. likes to order of the “secret menu” and enjoys french fries at every fine dining establishment regardless if they are offered to begin with.

frodo: very polite, has a hard time deciding what he wants. ends up getting several things and either sharing it with sam or giving the rest of it to pippin. all hobbits are incapable of bringing home leftovers.

sam: makes frodo order for him cuz he’s worried he will mess up the fancy names. fuckin loves him some fancy potatoes. takes a pic of the menu and tries to re-create it at home, 9/10 times it’s better than what the restaurant has.

legolas: eats the garnish. orders fancy cocktails and then will lick the salt rim off, eat the lemon, or the entire whole cherry, stem and all. likes to get pretty salads and sometimes will requests dressing on the side but not even use the dressing.

gimli: fantastic tipper. will fight with boromir about who pays the bill. has great table manners. will ask staff for recommendations and just order what they tell him to. not a picky eater, even if he hates it he will finish it all.

gandalf: shows up an hour, hour and a half, late. asks for servers to “surprise him” pays in cash, leaves whatever number feels right of hundreds on the table and heads out before the bill comes. he has been known to both dine and dash as well as tip 80%.

[rosefires20]

My brainrot today is thinking about just how incredible for a character Eowyn is.

Genuinely. The series might not have many female characters but the ones we do get go so fucking hard.

To me, Eowyn is literally the definition of defining being a woman for oneself. She rejects the roles she is given despite acknlowdging the importance and its mostly because she knows part of the reason is that she is a woman.

The reason why she is obsessed with Aragorn isn't because she loves him but because she wants what he has. She wants the freedom and courage and bravery that Aragorn has at every turn. She literally has multiple conversations during the Two Towers about how what she fears most is a cage. All this girl wants is the freedom to be and not be forced into a role. The best thing is that she literally gets that.

The segment of Return of the King about Eowyn and Faramir is literally about her piecing together what she truly wants. She doesn't want Aragorn. She wants freedom and the ability to choose. Faramir does nothing but encourage that in her. Their love story is literally one of the healthiest love stories I've seen in a long time because at the heart of it, their love is a place to return home to for both parties. Both go off to lead and help their people for a considerable amount of time before returning to each other but that does not diminish their bond. Even Faramir, I believe, falls in love with her bravery and dedication to her loved ones. The reason she went to Pelenor Fields and Gondor with the troops of Rohan was because she had things she wanted to fight for. She wanted to fight for herself, her people, and her loved ones. She is the one who protects Theoden after he is killed so that his body gets the treatment it deserves. She encourages Merry and helps him go to the battle because she sees her struggle in Merry. They feel helpless standing around when there are things to be doing.

Let's also not forget the fact that she was around Grima Wormtounge just as much as the King was. She was exposed to the same poison and awful words that eroded the king. It's even implied that her care for him is part of the reason why Theoden was savable when Gandalf showed up. She had the same power and bravery as everyone else even if she didn't see it in herself.

Then at the end of the day, SHE decides where she wants to go and what path she wants to walk. She walked the path of a warrior. The path of a princess/ruler. The path of a caretaker. But in the end she decides which elements truly mean something to her outside of gender definitions. That is what makes her character so incredible to me. In this she literally kills one of the biggest enemies in that battle with such a badass line.

[shangchiswife]

dating thorin headcanons!

hey guys i was rewatching the hobbit and i wanted to make this for thorin because he's a baddie.

thorin x gn!reader

Very, very closed off when you first meet him

It was Gandalf that thought you would be useful to the company as you were an excelled healer

Thorin’s focus is solely on reclaiming the mountain and he’s pretty skeptical of you and doesn’t know whether you truly belong in his company

Is the last to warm up to you when you joined his company 

He is amazed by how fast you become comfortable with everyone, especially his two nephews who you immediately started joking around with when you met them.

Thorin's perception of you shifts as he witnesses your compassion and skill as a healer. His respect for you grows as he watches you show kindness and empathy to the people that are hurt.

He also starts to understand why Gandalf put you in his company and how your role is important.

Once you’ve shown him that you’re able to be trusted he is comfortable around you

He also starts to get protective over you, especially during battles

Will literally scold you when you almost get hurt. “How careless could you be? You could’ve gotten killed?” he had said one time when an orc’s blade almost impaled you. You were hurt by his words but little did you know it was his way of showing that he cared.

Sometimes when everyone else in the company was asleep, you’d talk to him about your life and he’d tell you about his childhood in Erebor.

Overtime he began to trust you and found comfort in your presence.

When you both are by the fireplace you both steal glances at one another.

When he catches you staring, your cheeks give you away, flushing with warmth under his gaze.

His lips curl into a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement at your reaction.

Is also very chivalrous and is always looking out for you even if it means sacrificing his own comfort.

One cold day on your journey, you were shivering, and Thorin didn't waste a second before giving you his big fur coat.

When you protested, worried about him getting cold, Thorin simply smiled and brushed off your concerns, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I'd rather see you warm," he said tenderly, his words stirring a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. 

Eventually, your stubbornness won out, and you convinced Thorin to share the coat with you. With a soft chuckle and a gentle nod, he relented, and the two of you huddled together for warmth.

Balin is the first to notice Thorin’s growing affection for you.

He wastes no time in encouraging Thorin to act on his feelings and express his love for you.

Initially Thorin was hesitant because of his responsibilities as leader and was also a little scared of ruining his friendship with you.

Finally he works up the courage to tell you his feelings for you and is pleasantly surprised when you tell him you feel the same way.

Fili and Kili tease have a blast teasing their uncle about his new relationship with you

They’re always wiggling their eyebrows, flashing cheeky grins, and cracking jokes whenever their uncle is around you.

Thorin is never hearing the end of them. 

The rest of the company thinks you guys are cute but are always poking fun at Thorin because he is always just in awe over you.

Thorin will sometimes get annoyed at all their teasing but deep down he appreciates the support from his company and the respect they give you.

He loves to show you the beautiful sights he encounters on the journey.

Despite his tough exterior, Thorin's actions always convey a sense of warmth and tenderness.

His gestures may be subtle, but they speak volumes about his affection for you.

Whether it's a reassuring touch or a lingering gaze, Thorin's actions make you feel truly cherished and loved.

Isn’t really a big PDA person but once you guys are alone he’s all over you.

But occasionally he will hold your hand or gently lift your chin with his fingers.

Sometimes if he’s feeling a little risky he’ll even kiss you on the cheek. “What was that for?” you’d ask, clearly surprised by his boldness."I couldn't help it," he'd reply with a soft smile, "You looked absolutely adorable." 

He loves being the big spoon and wrapping his arms around you so that you feel safe and secure.

He isn’t really one for words but he loves to gift you things like jewelry or even little flowers he finds while on the journey.

Also loves to braid your hair as braiding and hair in general is a big part of dwarven culture and it’s one way he shares his culture with you.

Wherever you are, Thorin’s gaze always seems to find you. Even when you're apart, you can feel his presence, his watchful gaze silently reassuring you that he's there, looking out for you.

He also gives you a promise ring and tells you his desire for you to rule beside him once he reclaims his home.

You practically almost make him fall over when you throw your arms around him and accept the ring. As you cling to him, Thorin can't help but chuckle softly, both amused and touched by your enthusiastic response.

Everytime he catches sight of the promise ring on your finger, he can’t help but smile and  feeling a rush of warmth and affection wash over him.

Once Erebor is reclaimed, you meet Thorin’s sister, Dis and immediately hit it off. She becomes one of your closest friends and offers you love and guidance as you start your new life in Erebor.

Thorin’s kisses are electrifying and always leave you breathless.

His kisses are rough and filled with an insatiable hunger that leaves you breathless.

Thorin's hands, usually steady and controlled, become rough and possessive as they roam over your body.

Despite the challenges you both face, your love for each other is strong. And you know that with Thorin beside you there’s nothing you can’t conquer.

[live-laugh-legolas]

I really love your headcannons! Thanks for them! what do you think it's like to cuddle with a fellowship and how tactile they are in general, I would be grateful if it was in a romantic way, but if it's not difficult (if possible, then Gandalf should be too)

Cuddling with the fellowship

Aragorn:

-He often has his hands on you in some way

-Either in your shoulder, waist, back, or holding your hand

-But he isn’t the biggest cuddler despite being a touchy guy

-I think he worries he won’t be able to get up fast enough to protect you

-However he does sleep best when you are wrapped up in his arms

-He likes to lay his head in your lap

-Or with your head on his chest

-He subconsciously gives little massages while cuddling

-Does the thumb rub thing

Legolas:

-Once he figures out cuddling and physical affection he will always initiate it

-He will always come up and hug you from behind

-He finds comfort in it that he didn’t expect since elves aren’t really physically affectionate

-He likes to be big spoon and will hold your hand while you are wrapped safely in his arms

-He burrows his face into your hair or between your shoulder blades

-Sometimes he so close that he snores because his nose is pressed against your back (listen Ik elves don’t really sleep or whatever but let me have this)

-He will give you top of the head kisses randomly while you lay on his chest

-Just in general he does this; walking past you, you get a head kiss

-Pippin asks for one too; he says he feels left out

Gimli:

-Big time cuddler

-Dwarves are pretty big on physical touch

-Maybe cuddling isn’t necessary seen as platonic to dwarves; but wanting to be close in general can be

-However with a significant other this man is the biggest teddy bear

-He likes to face you when cuddling so he can see your pretty face

-Your very own personal heater/fur blanket

-Side note but maybe this is why Legolas likes him so much. I mean Legolas is kinda cat like and cats gravitate towards the warmest people to lay on

-Anyway

-He gets “grumpy” if you won’t cuddle with him

-Will pout until you give in despite being absolutely covered in dirt and you wanted to shower first

Boromir:

-He’s a little awkward about physical touch at first

-He’s a bit touch starved

-I can’t help but picture him as Arthur from the show Merlin in this scene

-It’s not so much that he doesn’t understand gentle physical touch; he is a gentle man; but he doesn’t experience it much so it’s a little foreign to him

-But once he is comfortable with you he will branch out and try initiating cuddles

-Will copy the way you initiate cuddles or any physical touch

-This man is lovely to cuddle btw

-You always feel very safe with him and he makes for a good pillow

-I headcanon that he has great tits; perfect chest to bury your face in

-He also talks a lot while cuddling; like he is just so happy to be with you that his giddiness comes out in random rambles

Frodo:

-He’s a nuzzler

-He does the little head rub on whatever he is using as a pillow when he first settles down

-Kinda like a dog spinning in circles before laying down

-If you fall asleep cuddled up just know that you will not wake up that way

-Someone is on the floor or you’ve swapped sides of the bed

-It looks like you guys were catapulted into the bed and that’s just how you landed

-Nose kisses

Sam:

-He loves to have “cuddle talks”

-Telling you about his day while you fiddle with his hair

-He’s a very intimate cuddler; likes to look into your eyes and profess his love as if it’s the first time even though he just did it yesterday too

-Not big on PDA though

-Cuddles are personal and private

-He’s not embarrassed or anything; it just feels like something too intimate for public eyes

Merry:

-He likes cuddling but in moderation

-I imagine he could get a bit claustrophobic

-Not that he doesn’t enjoy your cuddles; he just gets overwhelmed with smothering ones sometimes

-Doesn’t like being little spoon for this reason (same tho)

-I think one of his favorite positions to cuddle is with one of you sitting with your back against the others chest

-He does not care if he can’t see past you, he’s your backrest and he takes that job very seriously

Pippin:

-The biggest cuddle bug

-He is always touching someone; bumping shoulders, invading personal space, etc

-He finds comfort in being close to others and he’s not afraid to let it be known

-Spontaneous cuddle attacks

-Lots of giggles and nose boops

-If you are in bed he will “Dutch oven” you

-Gross ik

-However when his energy is worn for the day and he has gotten his playful cuddles out of the way he is the perfect teddy bear

-I mean seriously hobbits are the perfect little spoon size

-In those moments he does just enjoy the quiet and listening to your breathing as you fall asleep

Gandalf:

-Not big on cuddling

-More of the type to sit/lay where you are touching in some way but not engulfed with each other

-Maybe sitting across from eachother with your legs intertwined

-He does give the best hugs though

[brethilach]

Headcanon: Dwarves have event-oriented culture(s). Let me explain.

When I say "event-oriented" I mean that their activies and doings in the day are centered around events rather than strict timeframes, and therefore do not "begin" until a certain amount of people have shown up. Most people come and go as they please, parties often go late into the night, many have a "if you're on time, you're early; if you're late, you're on time" mentality. For example, if someone says they're throwing a party at 6:00, what they're actually saying is that you're setting up the party at 6:00 and the party itself won't start until a couple hours later — and for parties at someone's house specifically, there is no set time to end. People will often put a delay of at least 30 mins just to be sure the host is ready, and people closer to the host might arrive before the scheduled time to help organize. So if you show up on time, you're expected to help set up. Then the party will often go for hours on end, so most just show up when they can and then stay as late as they want. Time is (often) treated like a suggestion and it is totally acceptable or even sometimes socially expected for you to be late (because the set time can sometimes actually be the time people begin preparing for the event).

Most real-life event-oriented cultures are centered in places near the equator (Brazil especially comes to mind for me), and I think the reason behind this is because there's so much warmth and time during the day that it isn't much of a problem for events to go late into the night — whereas for places north of the equator (who usually have stricter time-oriented cultures), there's only so much time in the day before things start getting very dark and cold (impractical for... everything, really), so you need to be more strict with how you spend your time.

For Dwarves, I think it would be the opposite scenario, but would still come back to the same cultural phenomenon. Because most Dwarves live underground in the mountains and probably don't see much of the Sun in their day to lives, they don't need to worry about it getting dark or cold outside because they're not outside all the time to begin with!! I'm thinking about how the Dwaves in the book actually stop Bilbo from getting a lamp for the meeting because they just "like the dark" and tell him that there are "many hours left until dawn" (when it seems as though it's already fairly late for Bilbo at that point).

I don't think they would see (solar) time as a binding. They'd see it as just a guideline at best (and probably have their own methods of keeping time too, actually, but that's a different conversation).

This could be reason behind why all of the Dwarves arrived to Bilbo's house at drastically different times (at least in the book) and the "party" didn't actually begin until most everyone was there. The only one amongst them I think who was really considered late (in the movie) was Thorin, but no one even mentioned it after he said he "lost his way" and explained he just had a hard time finding Bilbo's house (they probably kept their mouths shut in part because he's their King, but even when Gandalf pointed out that he wasn't there before, Dwalin seemed very nonchalant about it).

Think about what happens in the book: Thorin tells Bilbo (in his letter) that they will meet at the Green Dragon to depart from the Shire at 11:00, and explicitly says they expected him to be "punctual." Bilbo wakes up at 10:45 in a panic, rushes out of the door, and runs a mile south to arrive at the Green Dragon "just on the stroke of eleven". When Bilbo apologizes, Dwalin says "don't be precise, and don't worry!" (despite the fact that the letter seemed to clearly state that he should be precise). If you put this in the context of a Dwarven event-orientated culture, they would have meant they would meet at the Green Dragon at 11:00 to prepare for departure. Whereas Bilbo most likely would have intepreted it as though they departing at 11:00 exactly. Thorin's definition of being precise (in this sense) would be "you should start preparing the leave your house at 11" — rather than "we're leaving the Green Dragon at 11 and if you're not there by then we'll just leave without you" (which is probably what Bilbo thought). I imagine that Shire-Hobbits likely have a much stricter time-orientated culture where events start whether or not you've shown up, you're expected to be early regardless of the set time, and being more than a few minutes late is like a social death sentence (just taking into consideration Bilbo's behavior and the fact that jirt pretty obviously based the Shire on pre-industrial Britain)

This is just my headcanon though! I just think it's a neat concept to think about.

[lexirosewrites]

I started watching too many videos abt human pregnancy & pets... & this thought wouldn't leave me

Steve & Eddie aren't mated yet, but they're living together, plan to mate, r already engaged, planning to maybe have a wedding or elope depending on how much a wedding would cost, when they adopt a dog (specifically a scottish deerhound bc I dream abt owning this breed in my wildest fantasy & what is fanfic if not wish fulfillment) after moving into a house they bought with the hush money

They love this dog, they did a lot of research into ethical breeders & how best to care for her breed, they've trained her in basics before moving onto more complicated commands & finally going thru a process to train her in the basics of emotional support (bc both of them have nightmares)

her full name is Gandalf the Gray Munson but they've both ended up just calling her Gray, for the most part Gray likes both of her owners equally she'll sit w Eddie as he paints minis or writes, she'll follow Steve around the kitchen or go with him on his morning run, & she'll sit w her owners as they watch something or try to dance w them when they listen to music, she even guards the door to their bedroom when either of them goes into heat/rut & will only move when a human she trusts comes to pick her up so they can take care of her without her owners worrying

Steddie finally elope & have a party w their closest family & friends afterwards, they exchange mating bites & have a short honeymoon, Gray is ecstatic when they get back to say the least, then a week or 2 after they get back Gray starts acting differently... she'll almost exclusively follow Steve around, she sniffs him more often, she cuddles him A LOT & then... Steve's period doesn't arrive so he takes several tests & every single one is positive!!

From there Gray's behavior starts to change more dramatically as the happy couple prepare to welcome their sweet baby into the world, as Steve progresses & his belly starts showing Gray needs to be near Steve like never before, she's purposefully slow on their morning jaunt tht has gone from a run to a walk, when they're out & she's w them & ppl decide to treat Steve's belly like it's public property she'll actually growl & even once jumped at a particularly insistent woman, she begins guarding Steve against pretty much everyone especially Eddie, the only exception to this is Aunty Robin the 3 of them often have cuddle puddles as Steve gets bigger & Eddie is very jealous, Gray especially loves lying w steve in a way tht allows her head to rest on his belly & as the baby grows she feels the baby kick more than once quickly loving the connection w her younger human sibling

when the day of the birth gets near she is glued to Steve & when his belly drops she's climbing into bed w steve & comforts him as the discomfort of pregnancy makes itself known even more

(This part is partially inspired by my mom's experience when she went into labour w me)

Steve gets up late at night because he thinks he needs to pee, Gray follows him into the bathroom as she's done all these 40 weeks, when he pees he realizes right away it isn't actually pee & gray obviously knows it as well

While steve slowly stands & processes tht his water just broke, she does something they never trained her to do: she runs & wakes up Eddie as Steve grips the sink when a contraction hits practicing the breathing he's learned, Eddie is literally dragged into the bathroom by Gray bc she's got his shirt in her mouth, he realizes what's happening & it's controlled chaos as he runs around grabbing Steve's shoes, a pair of clean sweat pants for his omega, & the maternity shirt Eddie’s been scenting every day for the last 40 weeks, he's got the hospital bag over his shoulder, car keys, he's actively calling Robin to come to their house & watch Gray while he's helping steve to the car, as they're driving to the hospital he's on the phone w their doctor telling her to meet them at the hospital they all planned to be at,

after they get to the hospital it all goes relatively smoothly: steve gives birth to a healthy baby boy, Eddie is a helpful presence in the birthing room, neither baby boy or steve have health complications, but it still takes close to 10 hours of active labor to meet their son, after its done steve demands Eddie get him a cheeseburger, strawberry milkshake, & French fries from their favorite diner that's literally open by the time steve is in his hospital room recuperating and their son is back from a short bath & the usual medical procedures tht hospitals follow after the birth of a baby

When Steve & the baby come home a few days later Gray is ecstatic to see Steve again & so so curious & loving of her new human brother 💖

(I'm so sorry if there's any inaccurate medicine happening here, please tell me what I missed or even messed up)

i’ve always said that Steve and Eddie need an emotional support dog to help them with their trauma after everything they’ve been through, but Gray goes above and beyond for his little family🥺😭💕

[socksracoon10]

Being an Elf and falling in love with Thorin

Headcanons below the cut!

When Gandalf had first summoned you, it wasn't a very easy decision to make.

Being a Sindar elf yourself, the choice of having to derail from your own beliefs bruised your ego... especially since you were entrusted with overseeing Thorin and his company.

"My dear (Y/N)," Gandalf sighed, "I can not trust any other elf with such an arduous task. I know you are capable of setting aside your prejudices and aiding these dwarves."

"You saved my life once from the Uruk-hais. I am indebted to you for that, Gandalf. But I believe that this will be the one time I shall repay you for your kindness in this manner. Do not expect more from me." You muttered with a bitter tone.

"I do not plan on it." Gandalf reassured you.

When you first met the company under Bilbo's roof, there was silence. An eerie amount of silence.

The hobbit before you seemed enchanted by your presence.

You learned his name was Bilbo; he was the most sensible out of the bunch at the moment.

Your eyes traveled across the room and landed on Thorin, who had a nasty scowl on his face.

He wasn't expecting you to actually show up. He had hoped that for once that elvish pride would've saved him from having to face another individual of the same kind that had betrayed him years ago.

The silence continued, and you made your presence known. You were here to help the dwarves, nothing more and nothing less. You would accompany them to The Misty Mountains, but you would not step foot into their sacred lair. Not out of respect, but out of the sheer disgust you had for the dwarves.

Not even Eru could force you to enter their dwelling; it seemed as if death was the better option.

The journey there was not an easy one.

And Thorin didn't make it any easier.

He'd pass sly remarks every so often about you, try to demean you in front of everyone. He was constantly fighting a battle to ensure that you were beneath him in every aspect, despite being one of the most skilled elves to traverse Middle-Earth.

"Ah, it's best not to anger (Y/N), Thorin," Gandalf would quip from the background, wanting to ease the tension.

It did nothing.

There was an instance where you had left the group to gain more ground and a safer pathway for the dwarves through the forests.

Yeah, biggest mistake ever and Thorin wouldn't stop nagging you about it.

Those stupid trolls had gotten to them and Bilbo had managed to stall them long enough before Gandalf used the sunlight as a weapon.

"I left for one day... forgive me, I was merely trying to secure a safe path," You hissed at Thorin as he shoved past you.

"A safe path will only do if the company itself is safe first, elf," He spat, glancing over his shoulder. You so desperately wanted to spear your blade through his heart.

The rest of the trip resumed its unsteady silence. You glared at the other dwarves, not wishing to say anything to them. Occasionally, you'd offer a helping hand to Bilbo.

That didn't go unnoticed by Thorin. He didn't really like Bilbo as much, but compared to you? Bilbo was far better, and the stupid burglar was mingling with the wrong person.

However, his concerns of Bilbo shifted to his two nephews - Fili and Kili.

While they still harbored some resentment towards you for being a Sindar Elf, they were still young. They were naive, they did not experience that devastating day when Thranduil's forces abandoned Thorin's desperate cries for help.

And so what did they do?

They talked. Talked, and talked. Especially, Kili. Fili would add a joke once or twice, but if he ever caught Thorin's watchful eye, he'd gulp his words and nudge Kili to quit.

And then slowly, one by one... the dwarves were opening up to you.

Balin was more sympathetic, he was a very kind and wise dwarf. You actually enjoyed his presence.

Bofur was a bit reluctant to talk to you at first, but slowly came around. You noticed this when he asked you if you needed more food on your plate when you were dining in Rivendell. That was enough to tell you that perhaps there could be friendships between the dwarves and the elves.

You saved their asses a couple times, especially with the Goblins. Killed some orcs led by Azog. And then watched Azog brutally wound Thorin.

And then something switched in you. For a moment, you felt your breath hitch at the sight of him, dazed and unconscious. Something began to stir inside of you, and you couldn't place your finger on it. It almost felt... unworldly.

And that feeling continued... even when you ended up facing Thranduil, who was so puzzled at the fact that one of his own kind was helping those dwarves...

"I am repaying a debt that I owe to Gandalf," You explained, your head jutted up high into the air.

"What a terrible way to repay it, (Y/N)." Thranduil grimaced, "If you wanted an opportunity to keep yourself occupied, you could've turned to Legolas and he would've found you a wonderful position among my kingdom. We could use elves such as yourself, you know."

"Ah, but I could not say the same for you," You bit back, noticing the way his eyes widened at your audacity.

Word of your defiance quickly spread to the dwarves as the elves guarding them gossiped about it with such eager interest.

It fell onto Thorin's ears.

He almost thought they were lying to him. He couldn't believe it.

And as you passed Thorin's cell to enter your own, much farther away from the dwarves, you noticed something different about him.

He was smiling at you, a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed... proud? Ecstatic?

When the company and you had escaped via the barrels, you had almost hit a rock down the river. It was surreal to see the way Thorin's hands stretched out to warn you.

It seemed as if he cared.

You took a daring risk to climb off the barrel to kill some orcs, almost slipping across the branch in the process as you jumped back into your barrel.

"Be careful, elf!" Thorin cried out, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"And what does it matter to you?" You snapped, furrowing your brows.

He did not respond.

He did not need to.

Because you sort of knew the answer by the way he glanced back at you with a soft smile.

You mattered to him.

More than reclaiming the Mountains? The answer was obviously no.

But when you climbed up and watched him excitedly open the hidden entrance to the inside of the Lonely Mountains, his eyes flashed towards you for a split second.

As if he was waiting to see your reaction as well.

And when you gave in and smiled.

With or without the gold, the Arkenstone or the throne,

He felt as if he was the richest dwarf to ever live.

You mattered to him.

He mattered to you.

And thus began, the love between an elf and a dwarf.

[rivendell-poet]

*･༓˚✧❝𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 (𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐑)❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « scenarios »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○ Merry ○ Pippin ○ Boromir ○ Faramir ○ Éowyn ○ Éomer ○ Bard ○ Thranduil ○ Tauriel ○ Lindir ○ Haldir ○ Elladan ○ Elrohir ○

GN!Reader | Wordcount : 4k (each individual around 230~ words) | Read on Ao3

TWS : Drinking, implied arranged marriage that doesn't happen & isn't between reader and Faramir (Faramir), nothing else

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𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ As one of the Dúnedain rangers who looked after the Shire, you had instantly gone to Frodo's side once Gandalf showed up. Although you didn't know the full details of the plan (they hadn't yet trusted you with the secrets of the ring) you agreed to escort them to Bree so they could meet with Gandalf there.

✧ Aragorn noticed you first when you entered The Prancing Pony, carefully herding the hobbits in and making sure that they didn't run off, or get into trouble.

✧ When you look around to try and spot Gandalf he begins to slip into the shadows out of habit, but stops himself and stays easily seen. Aragorn doesn’t know why he lets you see him, but the tension even slightly leaving your eyes seems to make it worth it. Even in the light, you both recognise each other as Dúnedain. 

✧ After Aragorn takes Frodo to a separate room, he barely has time to begin his greetings before you swing open the door with the other hobbits and a sword to his neck demanding you release him.

✧ Normally he’d be intimidated, perhaps on guard with you, but even with a sword to his neck the first feeling he gets is admiration - it’s rare to catch him off guard like you have.

✧ The two of you work well together, even though you're slightly suspicious of him, and when Frodo decides to place his trust in the ranger you give it to him as well.

✧ While setting up the fake hobbits together there's some debate over who will keep watch and eventually both of you stay up together (sitting in a comfortable silence).

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Even if Denethor hadn’t approved of Faramir going to Rivendell, he did allow you to accompany Boromir to the valley. (You had gone because Faramir asked you, saying your job - a ranger who often scouted Mordor - would be valuable, even if he didn’t know why).

✧ When you had finally arrived in Rivendell you didn’t immediately admire the scenery, instead focusing on finally being (truly) clean after over a hundred days of travel.

✧ Once you were happy with yourself you thought it only right to look at the beauty of Rivendell, wandering aimlessly.

✧ It was then, after taking the same turn for the third time, that an elf suddenly appeared with a pitying look and asked if you had ever been to Rivendell before.

✧ Legolas is delighted when you take him up on his offer to show you around (Mirkwood is not exactly the best place to roam) and takes great pleasure in showing you different places.

✧ At almost every turn he asks you which places you’d prefer to see, taking you on a rather haphazard tour (although he doesn’t seem phased by it).

✧ He doesn’t recognise your Gondorian accent at first, but once he does he’s eager to ask more about it and your opinions.

✧ Eventually, as the stars and moon begin to light your walk, you apologise and explain you must be up early in the morning for an important meeting.

✧ Realising you’ll also be at the Council of Elrond, Legolas wishes you a good night’s rest and that he will see you soon.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Gandalf, over the years, employed many people to subtly watch over the Shire - and you were one of them.

✧ Traditionally based in Bree, you had been honoured to be chosen by the grey wizard and kept a close eye on the Baggins family.

✧ Eventually, after being slightly careless the day before, Bilbo manages to find and confront you about your intentions (albeit aided by the one ring).

✧ After learning you're a friend of Gandalf, he quickly invites you in to talk about it over luncheon.

✧ Frodo is surprised when you suddenly appear with his uncle for food, but he accepts it.

✧ The two of you are quick to bond when you talk about your travels - even if most are only a few days away from the Shire.

✧ He's completely enamoured by you - and Bilbo eats quickly to excuse himself and let you two be alone.

✧ You reinforce his ideas of going on one of Bilbo’s grand adventures, and after luncheon is over Frodo asks you to stay so that you may talk some more.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the day pouring over old maps as you tell him the facts you’ve learnt about those places from the wild, while he shares the facts that his beloved books tell him.

✧ When you realise the time you try to excuse yourself, but Bilbo insists you spend the night in a guest room.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Like most of the Shire, you were out in the summer festival - enjoying the field that had been cleared to make way for food, dancing, tents, hobbits sitting about, and more food.

✧ Predictably, your friends had dragged you into dancing, they wanted to as well but were too scared to go alone, and then had left you without partners you knew.

✧ The first few spins had been fun, but eventually you needed to take a break and actually enjoy what else the festival had to offer.

✧ As you stand close to the dancers, a hobbit with darker curly hair (the younger Baggins) comes up to.

✧ You ready yourself to say no to dancing, but instead he asks if you’ll dance with his friend.

✧ The words ‘no’ die in your mouth as you see the hobbit next to him, shy but looking on hopefully at the dancing before casting a glance to you.

✧ “Gladly.”

✧ To your pleasant surprise, he’s a decent dancer, and when you both run out of energy to go again Sam rushes to get you both food and seats.

✧ It’s a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but over the food he’s collected and the cheer in the air you can’t help thinking of just how sweet Samwise already is to you.

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Being a hobbit from Bree meant you didn’t often travel to the Shire - it was a rather long distance after all - but it was always nice when you did.

✧ Like travelling to the harvest festival for when the crops started to become bountiful, and everything would be freshly picked and perfectly cooked. You could celebrate in Bree, but food based festivals are always better when done by hobbits.

✧ You’re stuck on what stall to eat from first, overwhelmed at all the options, when a young hobbit suddenly taps you on the shoulder and asks if you need help in choosing something.

✧ Deciding to trust the locals you say yes, and it’s rewarded by a large smile from the hobbit before Merry introduces himself then instantly begins to drag you to a further away stall - talking about all the different options, before trying to guess what flavour you’d like.

✧ He gets above five flavours in before stopping, and saying you should choose what you want - not what he thinks.

✧ When you decide, his eyes seem to light up even more as he tells you that’s his favourite too.

✧ The two of you spend the rest of the night together, and he eventually asks if you’re from Bree.

✧ You say yes but that you’re staying for a while, to which Merry immediately offers to show you around the Shire - offering a date for tomorrow.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ As one of Elrond’s advisors, you’re aware that something big is going to happen soon. Any elf in Rivendell can feel it, especially when you’re privy to whispers of information such as ‘Sauron’ and ‘the one ring’.

✧ What you aren’t expecting is for this ‘something’ to be in the form of hobbits, one brought by Arwen - and the other three to be brought by Aragorn.

✧ Knowing the Nazgul’s attack on them, you wait on the borders of Rivendell for Isildur’s heir and his company.

✧ When Pippin sees you, almost silhouetted by the falling sun, he believes for a second you might be an angel.

✧ Even when you move to where he can see you (and begin admonishing Aragorn in Elvish) he still can’t shake the feeling that someone like you is too good for him and the hobbits.

✧ He doesn’t realise he’s staring, or blushing, until you come in front of him and gently kneel to check his forehead, asking if he’s ok.

✧ It takes him a second to respond - which probably doesn’t give too much confidence - but you accept his answering, welcoming him to Rivendell.

✧ The place is beautiful, but when you leave them to inform Lord Elrond of their arrival he can’t help thinking the place is already not quite as good.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ It was at times like this, when you’d been called away from the crucial stronghold of Osgiliath because of ‘important meetings’, that you wished the rangers didn’t have to listen to Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, and could instead listen to his younger brother, your actual commander.

✧ This thought was probably shared among a lot of the rangers, but you were the only one brave enough to say it, which is why you were currently in what reminded you suspiciously of a school’s detention room.

✧ Apparently this was a good deterrent, seeing as only you were in here, holding a small slip of paper that says ‘Disrespectful to the Captain of the White Tower’.

✧ The door opens, finally, and you’re just about to express your thanks to them for actually showing up when you realise who it is.

✧ Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, stares back at you just as you realise you’re going to have to tell this man what you did.

✧ Trying to master the art of vanishing from Middle Earth, you can feel yourself blushing when you hand him your write-up slip.

✧ There’s a second of silence before a small laugh escapes him, and he looks at you more directly before asking what you said.

✧ You’re honest about it, and to your surprise he asks you for clarification and follow-ups, actually listening to your suggestions.

✧ In the end, it’s a bell chiming that snaps you out of your discussions and when the two of you get up to leave he opens the door with a smile, wishing you a good day.

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ For the last three years, the Lord Steward had tried to find a betrothed for his eldest son, Boromir. For the last three years you had consistently refused to go. This year, however, your parents had finally put their foot down and made you attend the ceremony.

✧ It was a very small chance he’d choose you, and a (hopefully) even smaller chance the engagement would become anything.

✧ But on the chance it would, you decide to do what anyone would do, and get slightly drunk in a tavern to try and hook up with someone.

✧ With incredible wisdom, you had taken up a spot in a dark corner where literally no-one was approaching you.

✧ And then someone does.

✧ You’re shocked he hasn’t already found someone; not many people would turn down the man in front of you.

✧ In the tavern light his grey eyes seem to shine, his hair a gorgeous colour that reminds you of sweet caramel and looks incredibly soft.

✧ Moved, not entirely by the drink, you find yourself going over - saying a comment and trying to smile, laughing at his response.

✧ There’s a second of silence between the two of you and you realise how close you are.

✧ You close the gap, and the two of you are kissing - you’re going back against the wall and your hands reach out to pull him closer - then it stops.

✧ A muttered apology is all you get before he leaves.

✧ And in the morning you’re left with the vague memory of a kiss, a memory of a semi-familiar man, and a hangover.

𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧

✧ As Aragorn’s younger sibling, you’re no stranger to people fawning over your brother. That does not mean, however, it doesn’t amuse you and you don’t tease him incredibly.

✧ You watch Aragorn leave the stables, having just enough time to congratulate him on his new horse, and his new admirer, before said admirer appears.

✧ Although you tease your brother you’re still good to the people who fall for him, and you give a respectful nod to the girl - Éowyn.

✧ She smiles back at you, before her eyes flicker between you and your brother. It’s a tale as old as time, and you sit up slightly straighter.

✧ What you don't expect, however, is for her to compare you in terms of spirit - how both of you seem elven, and noble.

✧ Normally people make a shallower comparison, or just go to you to confirm facts, and it’s refreshing and nice to hear that instead.

✧ You confirm your relation to him, before focusing your attention back on her. That her nature seems noble as well, and that it seems like her uncles.

✧ When she glows at the compliment you smile, and the next few minutes of small talk are pleasant before you’re pulled away.

𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

✧ You first see Éomer while waiting for his sister to arrive, humming to yourself in the great wooden halls.

✧ To your credit you only jump a little when he appears out of no-where, and on his part he is most apologetic.

✧ From his perspective, he came because he heard the sound of your humming - better than the songs sung over festivals in this hall - and wishes to know from whom it came.

✧ He’s silent at first, scared to move in case he startles you too badly - and not wanting to be loud and disrupt the song.

✧ Hesitantly, he asks who you are - and if you are the friend his sister has spoken so highly of.

✧ When you confirm that is you, he says it’s an honour to meet you and he’s glad you’ve been such a good friend to his sister.

✧ There’s a pause again, and just when you’re about to speak Éowyn appears by your side and ready to go.

✧ As happy as you are to go with her, something in you is regretful you could not spend more time getting to know Éomer.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝

✧ In jail for assaulting a counsellor, especially as a guard of Laketown, is not exactly how you expected your Friday shift to go. Still, when you stare at the girl next to you (Sigrid) you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad about doing what you did.

✧ You had simply seen Alfrid towering over her, her being clearly uncomfortable - and you had pulled him off when things got physical. It was bad luck Sigrid had punched him at the same time, landing you both in jail.

✧ The girl seems more apologetic around you being here than her actions, to be honest, and she keeps reassuring you that her dad will come soon to sort things out.

✧ On Bard’s part, the news that his daughter is in jail for punching a counsellor is not what he wanted to hear but he goes out immediately. He’s about to head off when Sigrid tells him about you, and of course Bard realises he needs to get you out as well.

✧ When a drop-dead gorgeous man appears outside your cell, your mind begins to debate the merits of flirting your way out before he introduces himself as Sigrid’s father.

✧ Once you get out he thanks you profusely, as well as apologising for his daughter, but you wave him off with a smile.

✧ Bard can barely believe someone with this much honour still exists in this place, and makes a small note to thank whatever’s out there for having you look after his daughter.

✧ Eventually, you manage to convince him to stop thanking you and to let you go home - although when the man gives you one more piece of sincere praise you can’t find yourself annoyed.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ As you sit at a beautifully carved, uncomfortable desk you realise you’re not as nervous as you probably should be to meet the king.

✧ You’ve seen him before, of course, looking at him when all the elves of Mirkwood are out - or gossiping with the other single elves about what are decidedly fantasies. But you’ve never spoken.

✧ As a private tutor, in written work and fighting, you had jumped at the opportunity to mentor Prince Legolas.

✧ The door opens and you rise to your feet immediately, going into a deep bow.

✧ As Thranduil bids you to rise, you can feel his eyes sweeping over you and looking for any imperfections.

✧ Instead of cowering you meet his gaze, and you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his face before it becomes more serious.

✧ The interview, one of many, is surprisingly pleasant and you find it easy to talk to him.

✧ When you are made to leave, he watches you exit, thinking about saying something before thanking you for your performance and interest in the role.

✧ It’s a small gesture, but to be thanked by the king? It puts a bounce in your step for the rest of the day.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥

✧ As the tenth shot in as many minutes hits the target perfectly, you can’t help but wish to use your sword, and against something that isn’t a training dummy.

✧ Elves are known for being archers, and although you’re skilled with a bow it’s easier to stand out with exceptional sword-mastery than exceptional marksmanship.

✧ Then, a voice behind you asks if you want to spar together - an offer almost too good to be true.

✧ Turning around you vaguely recognise the elf in front of you, her hair is distinctive, and you ask if she too is trying to join the royal guard.

✧ Tauriel confirms it, and then the two of you get into position.

✧ There’s something incredibly satisfying about a good match-up and the two of you fight well together.

✧ You’re mostly evenly matched, and it takes a lot of effort to push on the offensive and get her closer to the wall.

✧ Eventually, she wins the first fight. But as you both stand there, catching your breath and smiling at each other, you bear no grudge.

✧ You only ask if she wants a re-match.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Anyone wanting to become a healer knows that the halls of the elves are the best places to go, if you wish to learn, so here you are. Three weeks travel deep into your route to Rivendell.

✧ Whilst riding you can’t help feeling something is off about the place - almost as if you’re being watched - but you chalk it up to elven magic.

✧ Then you see an elf, near the borders and picking some kind of flower. He has long, dark hair and you’re reminded just how ethereal the elves are compared to the race of men.

✧ And then all hell breaks loose.

✧ Just as you’re about to call out in greeting, a small band of orcs come out of the trees - you recognize the monster as what they are, instantly drawing your bow.

✧ Lindir sees the orcs approaching, quickly getting out his dagger while cursing his luck.

✧ As an orcish blade pierces him, blood instantly spilling from his side, he begins to wonder if this could be the end before an arrow suddenly goes though the orcs head.

✧ There’s barely time to react as a horse with a rider gallops past him, holding their hand out and pulling him up before wheeling back around to finish off the last orc.

✧ You barely have time to celebrate your victory when you feel the elf beside you slump into unconsciousness, clearly from the bloodloss.

✧ You wish you could say you entered Rivendell in a better way, rather than with a highly wounded elf at your side, but enter Rivendell like that you do.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Haldir had been alerted of people in the woods of Lothlórien by the Lady as soon as they had arrived, and had found them quickly.

✧ He was rather disappointed in how easily his troops went undetected, not even by Isildur’s heir or the elves from a distance.

✧ You had been uneasy as soon as you walked into the woods, convinced something was watching you. As an elf you of course knew of Galadriel’s powers, but whatever you could sense was more imminent.

✧ Then, with the quietest of sounds, you hear bows being drawn and arrows knocked into place.

✧ On instinct you draw your bow at the same time as your prince does, except you're quick enough to fire the arrow.

✧ The second the arrow leaves your bow you recognise the elves, and instantly you attempt to bat the arrow down again - wincing as you knock it just enough off target to miss the lead elf.

✧ As Haldir feels the arrow whistle past him, his first thought is that of admiration - the intensity in your eyes to protect this band of people.

✧ Opening your mouth to apologise, he holds a hand to stop you and congratulate you on your shot before turning to the more serious matters of the Fellowship.

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧

✧ As one of only a handful of elves still in their first century, it’s no wonder that you were eventually introduced to the Sons of Elrond.

✧ It had been in one of Rivendell’s great libraries, and although both looked interested to meet you there was one you were more interested in meeting.

✧ Elrohir had been the one to make introductions first, declaring their names before politely asking yours.

✧ Elladan on the other hand hung back slightly. You were beautiful, a full elf, and something about that made him slightly intimidated.

✧ It wasn’t until you had all sat down and you were looking around the library he realised just how compatible you were.

✧ “What books would you recommend?”

✧ The question is simple, but Elladan immediately latches onto it and begins to ask questions - what genre are you looking for, would you like something sad? Would you like a story or a historical account - and if so from which time period?

✧ He speaks fast enough that his elvish begins to flow together, but you keep up with him just as well.

✧ In almost no time the two of you are off the chairs, and he eagerly leads you to the section you're looking for.

✧ Your eyes widen as you gaze upon the piles of stacked books, neatly organised and in shelves.

✧ From the sidelines Elladan watches eagerly, and for the first time since his brother he feels he has finally found a kindred spirit.

𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫

✧ When Elrohir rides into the Battle of Pelennor Fields with the army of the dead he can practically feel the relief of the soldiers, and wonders if there are many greater feelings in life that this.

✧ Almost two hours later, as the fighting dies down and he begins to look for the wounded he decides there probably aren’t.

✧ He doesn’t realise someone is calling, or at least calling specifically him, until the person yells for the ‘half-elf with the horse’

✧ Elrohir has no idea who the person is, but the fact they don’t refer to him as an elf already makes him love them.

✧ Going over, he sees you crouching beside a clearly wounded soldier - one of their legs incredibly damaged.

✧ Looking up you ask if he can transport them to the Houses of Healing, as not to aggrevate the wound further.

✧ He instantly agrees before hesitantly asking where they are.

✧ Upon seeing the slight despair in your eyes, he holds out the reins of his horse to you.

✧ “Fly swift with him. I’ll keep searching for wounded and sending more up. Return him to me when he’s no longer needed.”

✧ You can hardly believe your luck - but it isn’t for you to question, instead thanking him on behalf of Gondor before going as quickly as you can to the Houses.

Hope you enjoyed! Here are the details about requests, and again thanks for reading!

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thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

[spinningalbinoturtle]

Thanksgiving headcanons for the Lotr crew

Its hosted in Rivendell but Elrond lets people extend the invite to others so everyone comes

Sam is in the kitchens from 6am cooking a million things-he also brought several side dishes premade

Frodo is all over the decorations and setting the table but he also made some cookies

Arwen is also very particular about this particularly the table

She has made a seating chart which she hopes will minimize squabbling

She has also set some ground rules like no dissing on your child’s interracial marriage (for Elrond and Thranduil)

Bilbo helps Sam cook in the morning but then he starts drinking around midday and doesn’t stop til he is dragged to bed by Frodo and Erestor

While Elrond is hosting he doesn’t do much just sits around and judges

He and Thranduil will be breaking Arwen’s rules

Thranduil and Gloin out drink Bilbo. They are having a silent drinking contest which has not been spoken of. Each one just decided to out drink the other

Thranduil wins cause he drinks like three bottles of a wine a day

Gimli and Legolas are just trying to avoid their parents

Thankfully Arwen sat them at the opposite end of the table

Unfortunately near Elrond who asks several awkward questions about how elf/dwarf sex works (he’s curious from a medical standpoint)

Bilbo drunkenly tells them how he had a dwarf boyfriend once so he totally understands what they’re going through at which point Frodo cuts off his wine supply

Frodo is actually trying to slow down Bilbo’s drinking all evening but with little success

Elladan and Elrohir have bonded with Merry and Pippin who introduced them to pipeweed. The four of them are stoned out of their minds and consequently eat more than everyone else. Arwen doesn’t understand what’s wrong with her brothers.

Aragorn is in charge of the turkey. Its excellent

He is mostly trying to hide from Elrond the whole time

Boromir tries to assist him with helpful turkey roasting tidbits but Aragorn would rather just do it himself

Eventually he assigns Boromir to the stuffing- its actually not bad

Erestor keeps Elrond occupied, they hang out and play chess in the middle of all the chaos

Glorfindel is the guy who is just ready for the holiday season to start

He keeps pestering Maglor to play Yule carols but Elrond’s rule is not until after dinner

Gandalf sits around and smokes and occasionally yells at Pippin. He takes turns hanging out with Bilbo and getting him drunker, hanging out with Elrond and Galadriel

Galadriel intimidates everyone no one knows where she was before or after dinner

Celeborn brought lembas rolls and cranberry sauce

Faramir makes a mean pumpkin pie

He’s just happy to be included. He fangirls over all the elves who indulge him mostly

Eowyn is enjoying watching the antics. She can’t cook for shit so she doesn’t bother to help with that but she does help clean up

So do Merry and Pippin but only because Gandalf forced them

Eomer brings “traditional Rohirric appetizers” and its smoked horse meat. Pippin and Sam are horrified to learn this.

Everyone has their favorite: Sam’s is obvs PO-TAY-TOES. Frodo likes cranberry sauce. Merry inhales stuffing. Pippin loves rolls.

Drunkest in order of most to least would be: Thranduil, Gloin, Bilbo, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Aragorn (but you can’t tell), Eomer, Eowyn, Glorfindel, Sam (he would’ve drunk more but he was busy cooking), Elladan, Elrohir (they’re so high they don’t drink much) Arwen (not a big drinker), Frodo(alcohol fucks with his anxiety so he just has one glass of wine) Faramir (who’s a teatotler cause he thinks if he did drink he’d become an alcoholic).

Lots of songs are sung before people start to retire for bed

Legolas and Gimli have sex really loudly between their fathers’ rooms to annoy them

Galadriel shows up around midnight and helps finish cleaning up

The clean up crew includes Eowyn, Merry, Faramir, Pippin, Gandalf, and Legolas and Gimli. They have a great time.

[spideyanakin]

HEY! Idk if your requests are actually open anymore, but if they are, I have a little something ;)

If you’re down to write it (and if you haven’t written anything like this before, if you have ignore this lol I’m sure I’ll find it), could I get a Legolas x reader (either fem or gn is fine, whichever you prefer!)?

Maybe reader is apart of the fellowship as a healer and they’re patching him up after a battle and scolding him to be more careful. The rest of the fellowship totally wanting them to get together and chuckling.

Idk I just thought that might be cute lol. Again I f this doesn’t interest you/you’ve written something like it before, free to ignore this <3

invincible (l.g)

warnings - mentions of wounds, suggestive joke, legolas bleeding, fluff?

word count - 0.7k

back to main masterlist

legolas masterlist

An offence only orcs and enemies of Arda could have the courage to do.

The calm after the storm reigned in the remains of the fellowship; Gandalf was gone, Frodo and Sam left to journey on their own, Merry and Pippin were kidnapped, Boromir died before your eyes…

In that mess of events, as you all camped to recover from battle, Legolas hadn’t noticed the large gash on his cheek, and only did when he ran his hand over his cheek to wipe off what he had thought had been dirt.

But when his fingers pealed from his cheek to show a redish liquid hot to the touch, he thought he was going to explode.

Legolas was bleeding.

Elves never bled.

Elves were trained not to bleed, trained to defend themselves and use the signs of nature as warnings.

Even the act of making an elf bleed was a terrible offence.

And then he felt it, his left leg buckled and a blinding pain hit from the back of his calf.

This was a true insult, and anger flashed through him as he leaned against a tree, long forgetting the wood he had been collecting for the fire.

His pain was a reflection of a moment of weakness.

And all this for you.

Legolas was a fierce warrior but when it came to your safety he, unfortunately, became distracted. Making his fighting stance reckless. Not that you couldn’t defend yourself, he knew your skills and trusted your own elven senses: but you were a healer. You were there to tend wounds and help them on their journey, not fight orcs.

"Legolas," your soft voice brought him out of his sulking. “You’re bleeding," you noted. Your voice wasn’t harsh, but firm—an expression of your worries and a command that he came promptly over to you.

You knew he hated showing weakness, hated that he needed to seek your help, but the gash on his cheek and the bleeding from his leg he was yet to notice had to be tended to.

He trotted to your spot by the stack of bags that had been dropped for the night to sit down in front of you, and started to observe as you fished through your satchel to grab whatever was needed to tend to his wounds.

He watched as you grabbed a piece of fabric, following your movements to see you open a small bottle and embed the fabric with its contents.

"You have to be more careful," you mumbled, carefully pressing the sanitiser across his cheek. "I saw you out there, you could have gotten killed."

"I was trying to protect you," his words made you stop your movements for a brief instant—eyes locking with his. You suddenly felt heat creep up your cheeks, and before you could let it affect you, you continued your movements.

"You know I can fight, Legolas. You need to take care of yourself first," you almost whispered, content with your work when the gash was clean. "Fold your leg," you ordered before he could muster another reply and he complied, folding his legs so you could properly see the side of his calf.

You didn’t need to bother with a knife; the hit was already making the material of his pants rip apart. A simple touch was enough to reveal the large cut across the side of his leg.

He hissed as your mixture of magic herbs cleansed the wound, just like the one of his cheek.

He didn’t know what else to say, he wasn’t going to stop taking care of you on the battle fields, not today and not ever. And as he watched you tend to his wound, concentration deep in your eyes—he was starting to guess why he felt so protective over you.

And it wasn’t just because you were healer who wasn’t a trained fighter.

"He’s totally in love with her," Gimli mumbled to Aragorn who was washing his spare shirt in the nearby river.

From his spot on the perched rock, he could clearly see the two of you. Watching as you carefully tended to your prince’s wound, and Legolas’s longing stare towards you.

"Legolas has always held affection towards her," Aragorn noted, sending a light chuckle towards Gimli.

"More than affection! He’s basically undressing her with his eyes!"

"Gimli!" Aragorn scolded, suppressing the smirk that threatened to rise.

"What?"

[qqueenofhades]

I'm watching the results come in for the French legislatives first round, and I have been following American presidential race and supreme court from afar. I am depressed. Please say something wise that will give me hope. I never thought to live through times like this.

Anonymous asked: Hey I know you said you’re avoiding posting about politics so absolutely feel free not to reply, but any tips about not getting hopeless? Especially when the fellow young people in your life are all clamoring to talk about how both parties are the same, they won’t vote, etc, etc (😑)?

Welp. It seems that what the people want to hear at this point is some Wise Words From Internet Grandmother Hilary, so... I will do my best to see what I can come up with. It bears repeating, as I have said many times before and will do so again, that I still have heard no better advice for living through The Horrors than the Gandalf: "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us." Because, yeah. That, in its simplest essence, is it. We cannot control The Horrors. Individual people have never been able to control The Horrors, and five thousand-odd years after the invention of documented human history, here we still are, making the same stupid fucking mistakes. That is pretty maddening to deal with, and if you try to think of it like that, it is impossible to wrap your head around and it will only drive you crazy. So, then. What?

I will freely admit that I am scared too. Despite my best efforts, the post-debate furor wigged me out, I had to log off all social media and news sites for most of the weekend, not look at anything aside from one site I trust for two minutes, and try to get myself back in an okay headspace. So yes, rule number one: STOP DOOMSCROLLING. Please get a muzzle on that little voice in your head that says you HAVE to look, you HAVE to read everything, you have to KNOW JUST IN CASE HOW BAD IT COULD POSSIBLY BE. Then you look at stuff that makes you upset, and that leads to other stuff that makes you more upset, and then there you are in a stew of anxiety and anger and everything else that doesn't help. Do not look at the Bird Site Formerly Known as Twitter or news sites or anything else that is liable to have stuff that upsets you, especially in Panic!!! moments like this. It is designed to make you feel worse and it obscures the fact that nobody actually knows. Like, I devoutly hope that the anonymous "adviser to a prominent Democrat" and the NYT editorial board and everyone else screaming about how Biden should drop out right now step on ten Legos a day for the rest of their lives, but they also DO NOT KNOW (and given the NYT nakedly admitting to a personal vendetta against Biden for not giving them an interview, everyone can see exactly what this crass and unbelievably stupid sabotage attempt is, but yeah). Even if they get quoted in prominent publications, they do not know what is going to happen. They are not prophets. The NYT has, as noted, showed its ass 800 times before and keeps coming up with polls that are so ludicrously pro-Trump that it's becoming a cottage industry to debunk them. They are crass and cynical and trash and all that, they have vested interests, they have a platform, but repeat after me: WE DO NOT KNOW "FOR A FACT" THAT EVERYTHING IS DOOMED AND WILL NEVER BE OKAY AGAIN IF WE DO NOT LISTEN TO THE ALMIGHTY NEW YORK TIMES. In fact, the NYT has been so fucking wrong so fucking many times that at this point, I would bet on it being the other way around.

As part of my Bad Headspace Night on Friday night, I did picture the worst-case scenario of Trump winning, American democracy being overthrown, fascists around the world being emboldened, etc. It was a nasty mental picture and I didn't like anything that would come about if it did, but I had to remind myself that even if it did happen, well, the world would still be here, and good people who care about its future would have to do something to make that future happen. It would be ten times harder and it would be the result of another unimaginably evil and cynical fascist sabotage campaign, but... those are not exactly unprecedented in human history. (See: making all those mistakes over and over again.) People in the past were faced with those same exact moments where everything seemed monumentally hopeless and doomed for a generation, and they fought back, and they won. That's the thing. Fascists are evil and awful and terribly unnecessarily destructive, but they are not unbeatable, and they never have been. If we make the choice to resist them, then, well, they can be resisted. It will not happen by posting vaporous screeds on social media, or sitting on your ass and waiting for some miraculous savior/revolution/whatever to swoop in and save you, but it can happen, and it can work. That's what is very hard to remember in the current Horrors, but it's the way it's been for as long as there has been evil. It is not the be-all and end-all of the human experience and never will be.

Likewise: if a la the second anon you're being surrounded with people who are saying stupid things and making you feel worse: just don't be around them any more. It's that simple and you should do it. You can unfollow people who are posting defeatist rubbish, or you can avoid spending time with people railing about how everything is already doomed and voting is useless, etc. You may feel guilty because these people are your friends or you don't want to cut off contact, but you need to do what is best for your mental health, and if all you hear is BS, then, yeah. Pull the plug, cut the cord, do whatever you want. You do not owe anyone else your headspace, your attention, your mental health, or anything else, especially if it is demonstrably idiotic and incorrect. Find ways to do something. Go out and volunteer. Put down the phone (again, this cannot be overemphasized) and stop looking at doomerists on Twitter who get their engagement fix from making you upset and angry. Read a book, watch a TV show, visit a friend in real life, take a walk outside (if you don't live in a furnace, which unfortunately a lot of us do right now). Just sit and close your eyes and meditate. Stretch or move your body. Drink water. Super basic ordinary things that get you away from the increasingly frantic death spiral mindset and put you back in the reminder that things are never over and there is still a lot of time for everything.

As I said: I am doing this myself right now. It is not easy. I know it is not. I wish that we lived in a kinder timeline where this was not necessary, but as Gandalf says, nobody ever wishes for this and yet it happens nonetheless. But we can still control how we react to it and identify the things that are doing their best to make us feel terrible and doomed and hopeless, and make a choice to move away from them. We do not know what's going to happen, no. But we also do not know that everything is doomed, and you know what, it usually ends up not being that way. So that's what I can offer for now. Courage.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hi! I love your stuff I saw requests were open 😁

Could you Write a fem human reader x thorin who’s shorter than him, and she’s new to the quest meeting the company in Bilbos house, Gandalf already knows her and is like a farther figure.

Thorins a bit skeptical of her at first but those feelings die down as he realises she’s his one. Basically Thorin being a dick at first but warms up to the reader, some confessions are made and some fluffy/little-very tame nsfw stuff occurs when they reach Rivendell?

Thank you!! ☺️

(oh I love this so much! I hope this does your idea justice, there isn't smut in this one since it got quite long by itself, but I'd be happy to make a part 2 where they get to Rivendell if you'd like :) hope you enjoy :D)

(link for part 2!)

An Unexpected Guest (Thorin x female!human!reader)

Thorin watched you from across the campfire and tried to ignore the familiar tugging in his chest. You were too busy laughing alongside Fili and Kili to notice his probing stare, and seeing how easily you'd integrated into the group only made him more perplexed by your presence. He quickly averted his gaze though when he caught the look Balin sent him. The older dwarf simply chuckled and patted him on the shoulder, reminding Thorin of the evening he had met you.

The dwarves had been gathered at Bilbo's house for some time now, and evening had fallen by the time another, relatively quiet, knock sounded at the door. The hobbit almost seemed to be seething at the idea of more people showing up, but this time it was Gandalf who rose to answer.

"It seems our final guest has arrived." At this, Thorin shot him a glare that went unnoticed as Gandalf left the room.

"Gandalf! It's wonderful to see you again."

"Likewise, my dear. Come in, I shall introduce you to the company."

After you had hung your cloak up, you closed the door and followed Gandalf into the room where the dwarves sat. Thorin could only watch in disbelief as you politely thanked Mr Baggins for hosting the event and shook his hand (which appeared to at least partially dispel the hobbit's bad spirits). The wizard had really invited another without his consent - and a human woman at that.

With a gentle hand on your shoulder, Gandalf said, "It is my pleasure to introduce to you Y/n L/n, a student of mine. I have decided that she will accompany you along this journey."

Thorin rose from his chair abruptly, and all eyes turned to him.

"When were you going to tell me about this decision?" His voice was quiet, but his rage was betrayed by his clenched fists. "You do not have the right to-"

"Thorin, I have said she will go with you, and you should be wise to respect that." The wizard's face was dark, and Thorin paused before he reluctantly stepped forward to look at you. "I can assure you that she will be of use. She has studied under me for some time and is a rather excellent navigator, which I suspect will come in handy."

You bowed respectfully. "It is an honour to meet you, Thorin." You made brief eye contact with him as you rose and he felt something in his chest tighten, but he chose to ignore it.

"Don't get in the way," He muttered and returned to the table.

Later in the evening, he found himself stealing glances at you as you chatted merrily with some of the others. He couldn't quite figure you out - you seemed an intelligent young woman, but he couldn't risk compromising the quest, and he didn't trust humans in general, but just maybe there was a small part of him that wanted you to come, and there was this odd pulling feeling deep within him...

His train of thought was interrupted by Balin's hand on his shoulder, and he quickly realized he'd been staring for longer than he intended.

"Your feelings are written on your forehead, laddie."

Thorin cleared his throat and looked anywhere but where you sat. "I feel nothing for her. She's a liability."

Balin chuckled and patted his shoulder. "If you say so."

Balin had moved to sit next to Thorin in the time he was stuck in his own head, and spoke quietly with a smile on his face.

"You can't stare at her forever laddie." The glare he was sent did not deter him. "It's been the same with her since she first arrived, and I've never seen you like this before with any other lass." The two dwarves both looked at you, still teasing Kili over something or other.

Feeling the eyes on you, you looked across the fire and waved shyly with a smile when you saw Thorin watching you. And as much as he tried to resist, he couldn't help but give you a smile in return.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he had warmed up to you a little more than he'd like to admit. Something had drawn him to you and he couldn't quite place why.

"Lad, I haven't seen you smile like that since we started this journey. She makes you happy, and you'd be a fool to deny yourself that."

Thorin sighed. As if he was trying to pretend he wasn't saying it out loud, he murmured, "What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"She does, I'm sure of it. She has the same look in her eyes as you do." Balin put a comforting hand on his knee. "Y/n is your One, Thorin. You know it better than I do."

Oh. That... actually made a lot of sense.

Before he could respond, Kili ran over to them. "Uncle! Can you come and stand next to Y/n? She's making fun of me and you're the only one taller than her!"

Balin laughed and clapped him on the back. "Go on laddie."

Trying to settle his beating heart, Thorin stood and let Kili lead him over to his One (even if she didn't know it yet).

Fili pushed her lightly in Thorin's direction. "She thinks she's better than us because she's two inches taller than me."

"Is that so?" Seeing the slight blush on your cheeks, Thorin realized that Balin may not have been exaggerating, so with a subtle smirk on his face he looked down at you. He was only a few inches taller but it felt like he towered over you in that moment. "I don't appreciate the torment of my nephews, Miss Y/n."

You looked up at him and smiled with a teasing tone. "Well, they started it. I can't take all the blame, your majesty."

If his heart was beating too fast before, he was pretty sure it just stopped completely.

The two of you maintained eye contact for just longer than necessary, before he stepped away and cleared his throat. Fili seemed to have caught on to his uncle's unusual behavior, and with a wink in your direction he subtly directed Kili back over to Balin.

"May..." He paused, still uncertain. "May I speak with you, Y/n? Somewhere a little more private."

"Of course." Mahal, your smile was almost enough for him to forget he was nervous in the first place.

He led you a little further into the woods, just far enough from the group that they couldn't eavesdrop, and took a deep breath.

You smiled anxiously. "You're making me nervous, Thorin. What is it?"

In an uncharacteristically quiet voice, he said, "I think you're my One."

"Your One?"

"I..." He tried to calm the shake in his voice, to no avail. "I suppose you might call it a soulmate."

The blush on your face spread as you processed his words. "O-oh. I see."

"I must apologize for my behavior when we first met. I was skeptical of you, but you have shown yourself to be not only a valued member of the company, but also a caring and wonderful person." Thorin looked up from the ground to meet your eyes. "I have grown fond of you, Y/n, and I feel a connection with you that I have never experienced before. Something has been drawing me towards you every time I see you, and I can't pretend it isn't there anymore."

"Thorin, I-"

"If you do not feel the same then we need never discuss it again, but I-"

He was interrupted with your finger over his lips. You giggled at his confused expression and took his hands. "Thorin, of course I feel the same." You smiled sheepishly. "I was hoping to hide it for a little longer but Kili saw right through me."

"He is more perceptive than he looks," he chuckled, tracing his fingers over yours.

You lifted one hand to softly cup Thorin's cheek. "Either way, I'm glad the feeling is mutual."

Feeling your fingers in his hair when you tugged him down to kiss you, he had never been so glad for Balin's prying in his life.

[distinguisheddwarffriend]

Inspired by that post about Thranduil being all defensive/protective over Gimli in Valinor:

We all know the head canon of Thorin being all "no nephew of mine even associates with an elf" BUT

Just imagine, in a world where all three Durins survived, and Tauriel saved Kili (again), and some other elf healed his and Fìli's wounds last minute.

Thorin saw both his nephews almost die before him, has LIVED through how the gold sickness twists the mind and perception of things, and after coming to terms with Bilbo's theft of the Arkenstone, he for a while questions EVERYTHING.

And yes, he totally has a dramatic phase of self pity, holing up in his rooms, drinking Elvish wine (cus thats all there is atm) and smoking Gandalf's pipeweed, and mourning how "everything i knew is a LIE" and "if elves can make such amazing wine there HAS to be some good in them" and "I almost got my boys killed I am such a failure boooohoooo", and after Bilbo kicks his ass out if depression (and a STRONG worded letter from his sister) he is like "okay FUCK y'all I have TRAUMA TM and will do WHATEVER I WANT!!"

So when Kili all shyly comes forward one day asking if Tauriel can please stay with them in the mountain because she's banished from the Woodland Realm he's all "OF COURSE she can stay, you do you my precious boy, if Thranduil is stupid enough to let such a great warrior go we'll stick it to him"

and BAM, Tauriel joins Dwalin in leading Erebor's guard, and Dwalin is torn between "excuse ME u want me to share my job with a pointy eared maiden?" And "holy hell that lass has fire can't show how impressed I am".

And Tauriel Takes No Shit even from her own boyfriend, so Kìli is forced to take his new responsibilities seriously because "I did NOT lose my home to live with a CHILD, Kili", and Fili gets dragged into the whole thing without really understanding what happened, but hey, his lil brother is happy so who cares really.

And whenever someone at council (like Dain) complains about an Elf in the mountain, Thorin goes absolutely FERAL like "are you saying I don't know what's best for this mountain I just won from A DRAGON?! are you suggesting that my perfect baby nephew has bad taste? Huh? Exactly, didn't think so!!!!" And is a protective Papa bear "listen Tauriel if someone gives you shit you SHOOT them. No, not killing them, but, you know, just maim them a little to make a point. Trust me I'm the king."

And once Kili and Tauriel have their first child Thorin constantly kidnaps the kid and has them in the forge before they can even talk because "need to keep up that good old dwarven influence".

Anyway I'll go cry myself to sleep now.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat. 

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it. 

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary? 

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies. 

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin. 

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter. 

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer. 

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?” 

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along. 

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.” 

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?” 

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.” 

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side. 

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.” 

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.” 

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?” 

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did. 

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck. 

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.” 

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?” 

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center. 

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.” 

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was. 

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?” 

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.” 

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him. 

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment. 

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.” 

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face. 

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?” 

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.” 

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you. 

“That’s fair,” is all he says. 

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.” 

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight. 

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway. 

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way. 

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.” 

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.” 

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”  

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently. 

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist. 

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around. 

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.” 

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same. 

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile. 

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or… Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?” 

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.” 

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.” 

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly. 

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.” 

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you. 

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.” 

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.” 

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.” 

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.” 

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his. 

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you. 

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases. 

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape. 

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?” 

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’. 

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.” 

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing. 

Your phone. 

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips. 

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly. 

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer. 

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker. 

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone. 

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?” 

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all. 

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it. 

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.” 

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.” 

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you. 

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?” 

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?  

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess. 

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.” 

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time. 

7:41. Shit. 

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?” 

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone. 

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time. 

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him. 

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off. 

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling. 

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader. 

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo. 

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen. 

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind. 

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable. 

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself. 

“Dangerous.” 

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it. 

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat. 

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed. 

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.” 

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.” 

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over. 

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible. 

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.” 

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours. 

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours. 

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[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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