#the house of durin

[schrijverr]

Thorin wanting to be a good uncle to his nephews post-loss of the Lonely Mountain, but he’s traumatized as fuck (naturally) and suddenly responsible for his people. So, he just seems like this very cold and intimidating figure that baby Fili and Kili are kind of scared off. However, then Dís gets sick or has to travel and Thorin is left in charge of them and it’s very awkward at the start, but then they realize he’s just a big softie under there and then it’s over. This man is now their favorite person and they will bother him during all hours of the day (he loves it). Just stoic Thorin in a meeting while Fili and Kili are being menaces around him.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Caranthir at the annual Feanorian strategy meeting: You know, we could just chuck it all and turn to piracy. It would be a LOT easier.

[mexican-browser]

A Dumb LOTR Exchange

*at the bridge of Khazad-Dûm:*

Gandalf: Illuvatar’s ass on a stick, I wish we had a Balrog-slayer right about now.

Frodo: Why, do you know one? There can’t possibly be that many left—

Gandalf: Glorfindel of Gondolin.

Frodo: Ok, but where could we find—

Gandalf: Back in Rivendell. He was the rocking elven twink with perfect hair next to me and Elrond. Picked you morons up when you had a bad spice trip using the ring. Uppity prick was the one who suggested we just chuck that ring into the ocean like it isn’t just going to pop back up in a few centuries down the line. That’s what happened last time, you know when Isildur—

Aragorn: When Isildur hocked the ring like it was a bag of gummies at Tesco?

Gandalf: Pretty much, yeah.

Frodo: Well, why isn’t the noble Glorfindel here anyway?

Gandalf: Cuz Elrond thought we wouldn’t need him on a stealth mission. Well, surprise, we kinda f****** need him! But noooooo, you guys tooootallyy don’t need a Balrog-slayer. Now it’s my ass on the line, and I didn’t put up with the the idiocies of men and half-wit hobbits for centuries just to go down like this in an abandoned dwarven realm haunted by orcs and cave trolls! Saruman’s out there smoking pot reenacting the first act of The Lorax, Radaghast is talking to the woodland beings like a Disney Princess, and I’m pretty sure the Two Blues are either dead or ghosting me, and I’m here left dealing with a f******* Balrog! Bollocks!

*Silence as the ominous footfalls of certain death approaches*

Gimli: I didn’t understand a word he just said right now.

Legolas: No one can understand you through your own thick accent, sir dwarf, but we manage.

[toupee-or-nottoupee]

sometimes it hits me that Bilbo, Frodo, Merry and Pippin are all heirs to their clans like ??? like i love the comedic exploration of Bilbo is the grandchild of Old took, the Thain, the effective "leader" for matters of the shire and tho not direct line really, it does makes Bilbo a prince to an extent if u wanna go royalty terms and thats funny to pair with Thorin and Company. But then u peel back and like,,, oh,,, sam is literally the only with the humble background and like its not that Frodo Merry and Pippin are just "nobles" and gentlehobbits no no, they're heirs to their clans, literally the two big shot families with some of the biggest smial (hell theyre two different regions entirely. we talk abt hobbit settlement as The Shire but Buckland is its own thing too!!) like the entire fellowship is just a bunch of princes and a gardener like guys *head in hands*

[sadlvrgrrl]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 (.𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭)

a kili durin love story

when a young princess meets a dwarf without a home— she becomes his home.

・❥・ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬

The pale light of the moon illuminated the city of King’s Landing, a dense blanket of snow covering the cobbled streets, tattered rooftops, and darkened alleyways underneath the crisp, starry sky. It was on this cold night that the Realm’s Delight was giving birth to her third child.

Her piercing cries of agony blended with the howling wind, creating a ghostly wail that flooded the halls of the Red Keep. At long last, the Realm’s Delight held her newborn in her arms with a gentle grasp, a beautiful princess, born at the stroke of midnight amidst a raging white storm. The child was a beacon of hope, a shining addition to the Targaryen dynasty.

Rhaenyra smiled softly as her finger caressed the soft cheeks of her daughter. The slight movement triggered a bubbly laugh to pour out the young child and a gummy smile to appear upon her face. Her tiny hands chased after her mother’s finger, eager to hold it, causing Rhaenyra to chuckle lightly to herself.

It was indeed a heartwarming scene of a mother and her daughter.

Her daughter. The daughter she longed for her whole life. Her beautiful, precious Valaerys.

(𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒅...)

a/n: hello friends! this is a snippet of yet another hotd x lotr (the hobbit) crossover :) i jus' wanted to give ya'll a little snippet of a short story i've been working on between paragraphs of 'hidden' chapter three and i hope you guys enjoyed it and is hooked enough to come back and read the rest once it is posted <3 also, for my oc, valaerys, i pictured princess yue from the 2010 live action avatar: the last airbender as her faceclaim.

comments and feedbacks are very much welcome and appreciated !!

[dyingroses]

Thorin: *holding baby Kili* I do hope the labor wasn't too hard

Dís: I think I called the midwife a "cunt"

Thorin: *laughs* *kisses Dís on the forehead*

[sleepyhead-poll]

ROUND 2D, MATCH 8 OUT OF 8!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Durin:

Sleepy dwarf who was so tired filling out her intake paperwork that she put her race as her name 😪

In Durin's base chat, she also admits to ordering a huge uniform intentionally so she can curl up in it and sleep at any time. Vote Durin

Linhardt von Hevring:

linhardt has like 1 goal in life and its to be able to sleep as much as he wants and research whatever he wants without any pressure from anyone or anything <3 quote from his wiki page: "he often flutters from interests and is only able to focus on whatever fancies him in the moment. Additionally, his extreme disinterest in anything off-topic will cause him to become drowsy and/or fall asleep." he's neurodivergent as hell

Bro just wants to sleep instead of going to war. He took a nap in the cafeteria with a fucking pillow. Bro is so sleepy and wanting to nap all day that he can’t even be bothered to introduce himself properly “Linhardt. Goodbye.” Anyway he is the best sleepy boy :)

Besides being the Goddess' sleepiest soldier, Linhardt is literally introduced in a cutscene falling asleep mid-lecture and his personal ability is called Catnap ('Snooze' in Japanese). Catnap allows Linhardt to recover HP if he doesn't take any actions during a turn. 🙏 Bro is sleeping on the battlefield

He's just a sleepy boy who brings a pillow around to sleep and doesn't give a fuck. His conversation during the great tree moon(april)? About how it's the best time to sleep? He's damn right.

Not really currently but they're really cool and sleepy and also bi

Just a sleepy guy who wants to nap over studying and battling.

Eepy eepy boy:) also most likely autistic

he’s so eepy!!!!!! the eepiest!!!!!!!! it’s one of his defining traits also he’s one of the only characters you can gay marry in the game

Chill and sleepy.

He is such a sleepyhead. He tends to come across as ditzy or spacey to others, when often he is just so so so sleepy. He caries around a pillow sometimes because he'll sleep wherever and whenever. He doesn't seem to care that others find it distasteful, because he's happy getting lots of sleep. He may have narcolepsy; but it doesn't seem to be an established word in canon so most people things he's lazy or avoidant of things, when he really just can't help it. As the teacher you can acknowledge him though and validate that being sleepy doesnt mean hes wrong, as long as he works hard when he's awake. Despite his sleepy though he's there for his friends in battle (usually as a healer in my games since he's not a fan of violence) and just lives a long nap afterwards.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

'The words are in the elven-tongue of the West of Middle-earth in the Elder Days,' answered Gandalf. 'But they do not say anything important to us. They say only: The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter. And underneath small and faint is written: I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.'

"The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

Kíli

Just a dumb short joke. XD

I'll do a real one for him one day.

[memoiich]

꧁Rules ꧂

♥︎❤︎︎Character I write for:❤︎︎♥︎

Star wars❥

-Maul oppres

-obi wan kenobi

- captain rex

Spn:❥

-dean winchester

House of the dragon:❥

-aemond targaryen

Lotr:❥

-boromir

- aragorn

-legolas

The hobbit : ❥

- thorin

- fili

-kili

{you can always ask for another character, i might have forgotten them or im not sure i can capture them just right :)}

What im willing to write:❥

-fluff

-smut

-angst

-all kind of fics ( music fics, qoute fics……)𖧷ꕥ𑁍

-ships{ as long as they aren’t creepy or predatory}

What i wont write:❥

-incest

-abuse

-children in relationships with adults

-female character hate for no reason

-some kinks {if you aren’t sure you can always ask <3}

[maedictus]

More House of Durin doddles!

[applecherry108]

I was simply trying to google search obituaries to figure out what year my grandmother was born. Instead, I can only find her husband, my grandfather, and bc he was a vet there’s like, comments from friends and family. I knew and always felt he was closer with my uncle and cousins, but it’s like we didn’t even know the same man. Reading how kind and generous he was is surreal when my core memory of this man is him forcibly grabbing me, a then pre-school age child, by my shoulders when I was upset and crying, being dragged in front of a mirror and him shouting “look how ugly you are when you cry!”.

Like idk if it was bc I was the youngest, the only girl, bc I lost interest in sports as I got older, or bc I wasn’t the child of his golden kid (my uncle), but I was never close and never had a good impression of my paternal grandfather. I know I’m ND and sometimes struggle with emotions, and I remember feeling so out of place and wrong for being 16 and not at all upset or even crying at his funeral, while my cousins could barely keep it together, but damn. “Loving and generous” we did not know the same grandfather.

[writersdrug]

I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that she’s got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):

ANGST TIME

He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?

"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".

Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!

He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.

"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."

"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."

"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.

You furrow your brow. "Huh?"

He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.

You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"

Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."

Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"

"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"

"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."

He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"

"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."

"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"

"I've got a date!"

"I've got my own shit too!"

You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.

Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.

Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.

You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"

"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."

You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.

Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.

You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.

Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.

"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"

His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.

You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.

Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.

Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.

[dyingroses]

A moodboard for Princess Dís