The other day I took a picture with my phone of my Ipad while watching a playthrough of gow: ascension (i think it was that one). I know that the censorship is there because it would not be cool to have a penis dangling while Kratos falls off a ledge and his clothes follow physics and lift and all that. But.
Considering how there is no bulge and it is dark, in my mind Kratos has become your local trans man that buffs in the gym and uses the T to grow a beard longer than Gandalf but shaves his head. That guy, we all know him. Got some anger issues though.
And when I say dark I mean the entire area around is white and illuminated but That part. Not. Like yeah shadows but its funny.
Hi im so sorry but i literally just looked at my notification saw u follwed me and as soon as i clicked on ur blog i said "Bilbo BAGGINS???" in the most cockney accent ever
BEGAJSB I too would also have the same reaction seeing Bilbo each time <33
(and sorry it’s bxnnie-bxwl, this is my main HDJSHS)
boyfriend @cloverboii is in england today seeing richard armitage for an event….yes…RICHARD ARMITAGE IN THE FLESH today and I hope he doesn’t die… cause I would and I’m totally not super jealous or anything ahah
Silly mood took me over and I wrote a oneshot for Bilbo and Thorin that delves into the trauma that Bilbo must have after the journey, and the nightmares that keep him awake. It is a post-botfa consort Bilbo/king Thorin though, be aware of that canon divergence.
Some explicit stuff of violence is there. Be warned. And also not beta read.
What would you people in tumblr consider the enemy of a dragon? I don't care about which type of dragon, just the big lizard with scales and wings! What would be strong enough to become a dragon's mortal enemy and, if not, at least a huge hindrance to be aware of?
Asking Victorian era knowers if those children who went to school during the Victorian era (mainly rich boys) had holidays, or days off, or how many days a week did they go, and how many months a year, and if there were like school years or what
General tw for the case: kidnapping, self-loathing, interiorized ableism (will update)
Part 1
(BB)
As the airplane dives onto the ground and everyone holds their breath, Bilbo wonders if this is his first time flying. Back in Hobbiton he was too sleepy to really care, and he has slept through most of the flight anyway; but now that he is wide awake, witnessing how they leave the land of clouds and feeling a swoop down his stomach, he has too much time to muse on whether this — moving to another place — is really the good idea it had seemed.
He doesn't have anywhere else though: his belongings had long been gone to a state-leased storage facility when he woke up. He considers it unfair, naturally, because whatever happened to him... was not reason enough to kick him out of his flat. However, he understands the landlord's point of view in this case: she was receiving no money from him, unconscious as he was in hospital. She was gaining no profit in a capitalistic world. It was only natural to get rid of him.
Perhaps Bilbo would have felt betrayed if he had known her. If he could even remember her name, yet "Lobelia Sackville" rings nothing in his mind. His memory has been wiped out through the decade he spent asleep — recovering from a huge trauma, according to the doctors. But nothing makes sense to him, and since that's the case, why not follow the mysterious note between his belongings? Why not start anew in Erebor with the few things he could get before moving? No furniture, only his Journalism diploma and few more documents to prove who he is.
The plane lands gracefully. Bilbo waits for the passengers to leave before he gets up, grabs his small bag and cane and follows them. The way down the steep plane stairs is a bit tricky, but he smiles, gratefully, at the staff helping him find his balance without rolling onto the ground. Erebor is certainly not Hobbiton — it is somewhat warmer, and dryer, and Bilbo thanks that he has a bit of time while waiting for his suitcase inside the airport to take off his jacket and crumple it inside his bag, because he is suffocating.
After what seems a thousand years, he sees his suitcase roll along and find its way to his free hand. Feeling tired already, he starts to walk his way through the mass of people at the airport: he has never been one of crowds, he assumes, given how he wants to crawl away and hide. The bustling place drains his energy faster, or maybe it's having to walk the long distance to the gate, and then the idea of finding an entrance, and from there to guess where to go.
Bilbo's eyes flicker up and down, left and right, as he takes in the airport, though, and the people. He is intrigued about why he is supposed to be here. Thankfully, though, his curiosity gives in to one situation he had never hoped to see.
His name, misspelled, and held by someone.
Close enough. And suspicious. Who knew he was coming today? Perhaps he should ignore it all along, but the person holding the sign smiles at him, a flash of recognition in his clear eyes, and he feels compelled to go towards the stranger.
It is a tall man, taller than Bilbo, although that isn't that much hard. His hair is held up in a pony tail, and it's so blond that it reminds Bilbo of a halo on top of an angel's head, or perhaps the Sun being blocked by a man with sun-kissed skin and blue eyes. From what Bilbo can see, the man is not into working out like a beast at the gym, but neither keeps himself idle, and somewhere in his brain Bilbo classifies him as another het more before he can process the thoughts. Perhaps the man will surprise him in the future, but the vibes are there.
"Mister Baggins, am I right?" The man offers him a hand. "I am Frerin, Frerin Oakenshield."
"I... didn't know I had a guide? Thought no one knew I was coming..." Bilbo's confusion is clear on his face as Frerin lets out a chuckle.
"That's right, but we received a message from a close friend." We? A close friend? "He told us that you were coming at some point, so we have been taking turns at the airport to greet you. Do you like the sign?"
Is this supposed to be a warm welcome? Bilbo cannot help but distrust this man, for now, even as he gives puppy energy. He glances at the sign.
"My name. Uhm. It's Baggins, you know?"
"Yeah, and?"
"It says Boggins there."
There is a beat of silence. Then, Frerin checks the sign and curses under his breath. Bilbo barely keeps his laughter under control, and Frerin offers him an apology before asking to grab his suitcase. Bilbo won't say no to extra help, coming from a sus man or not, and off they go towards the entrance.
"Must have been my nephews." Nephews? "They are very young, and I left them unattended for some minutes... they must have switched it."
"What did the original say?"
"B Baggins, welcome to Erebor." Well, that's a stretch, indeed.
"How old are they?"
"Four and two." Frerin's warm smile catches him off guard. This is a man who loves his family, indeed, but doesn't wish to be a father himself. "Sons of my younger sister, you will meet her eventually, I am sure."
"Is she much younger than you?" Bilbo is trying to guess how old Frerin is.
"Hm, nah. I'm 33, she is 30." Frerin glances at him with a smirk. "Why?"
"Plain curiosity and nothing else." Bilbo smiles, and decides to give a bit about himself. What he knows about himself, at least. "I am an only child. No remarkable cousins... at least none that have contacted me lately."
Frerin's expression holds a subtle anxiety at the topic. Bilbo lets the silence settle as they reach the entrance: a close friend from Frerin asked him to go and get Bilbo, but why? Could it be this mysterious G? Is Frerin aware of his amnesia? Who knows, and Bilbo is too tired already to prod for information. Instead, he marvels at the outside.
"Come, my car is that red one there."
Frerin picks up the pace, and Bilbo follows. He should probably tell Frerin that the cane is more than a fancy accessory and that he should bear in mind that Bilbo is no runner nowadays, but he is far from wanting to nag at a new possible friend. He cannot completely trust him yet, but Frerin doesn't look like a bad guy, just a puppy with too much energy and very eager to show this new man in town places to go, or something.
Bilbo observes as Frerin gets the suitcase into the car and opens the door for him. Bilbo's cane finds its place somehow inside, and off they go as Frerin describes everything about Erebor for him. The information filters through Bilbo's brain and exits the other ear, too dizzy to keep it in his treacherous memory, but he is still glad that Frerin is informing him of everything. Feels nice to have someone like that, giving you clues instead of abandoning you to wander the world without the basic guide of experience.
"Anyway, you will get to see how big Erebor is as you stay here for long." Bilbo tilts his head, eyes on the several houses. Gives off old city vibes. How old is Erebor again? "You won't need to learn the language unless you stay for longer than three months, which then the government will let you apply to free courses."
"Language?" That piques Bilbo's interest.
"Khuzdul, it is. It's the oficial language of our country, a very old one. We started to teach immigrants when the gates opened after the war." Bilbo doesn't press on the war topic and lets Frerin continue. "It might be a bit tricky, but you will master it in no time, I am sure." Frerin flashes a smile.
Bilbo isn't that confident, but he offers one back and then asks, "Where are you taking me to?"
"Your new place."
"P-place?"
Bilbo hates to stammer, and even more does he hate how Frerin changes the topic to something else. They fall into a comfortable small talk until Frerin parks by a building, looking rather modern for the general antique vibes of the entire city. He hops off the car and circles it to reach Bilbo's door, opening it for the newcomer. Bilbo gets out with a bit of help from man and cane, and then he looks at the keys that Frerin is handing him over.
"Owned by some friends. They are moving out, so they offered to be your landlords." Bilbo nods, unsure of all this arrangement. "Don't worry, if you don't like it, you can crash at my place and then we can find something to suit your taste."
"... thank you."
Whoever this mysterious G is, sure it feels like a sugar daddy all of a sudden.
Bilbo doesn't voice any complaints, for now, and instead lets Frerin guide him inside. The keys are lighter than they seem, and the urge to ask the void of his social media followers if the little house dangling from there is too much is there, yet he shoves it away as he uses them to open the entrance. He almost falls to the floor as his eyes pop out.
"... I cannot afford the rent of this place." Frerin laughs as he pushes him, gently, towards the lift.
"Wait until you meet the landlords, come on."
Turns out, the landlords are waiting them already. Bilbo starts to feel a tad scared of this network, yet just lets the flow take him to either a very much suitable place or his death. Both are fine for him, at this point of his life. However, instead of kidnappers, he finds an adorable gay couple awaiting him.
The first one to come over is a man with silver-dyed hair and clear eyes, no beard and yes bod. He is quite ethereal, one of those beauties you can only fantasise with, and Bilbo fumbles as he tries to make a coherent sentence when the man introduces himself as Dori. His crush crashes soon like Icarus when the next words are "and this is Balin, my husband." Bilbo ignores the embarrassment, especially after Balin shoots him a knowing look — he must be used to this situation —, and then both guide him inside.
They tour around the place, Dori's mellow voice describing everything to him. The more places they see, the less Bilbo believes to be able to afford the rent: it's too much space! A modern kitchen, which tickle Bilbo's want to experiment and be able to cook for himself; two bathrooms, just why would he need two!; then comes the big, wide bedroom with two or three Bilbo's long and wide bed, the sheets of which Bilbo will change; a guest room, as if Bilbo was anything but a hermit; a living room, and then the terrace.
And when he sees the terrace, Bilbo decides that he will do anything in his power to live there.
"This and the neighbour's apartment used to be one, so the terrace got divided," Dori explains with a smile. He points at another wall, lower than the one to prevent falling, and says, "Over there is the terrace area of the neighbour. He is a distant relative from Balin here."
"A long-distant cousin," Balin adds. "He is right now out. Works for the police, you see, but he will help you in whatever you need. Might seem tough but he is a softie inside."
Bilbo nods, unaware of Frerin's mischievous smile, and then sits on the sofa. Oh, it is so comfortable he feels like he is dozing off, except for Frerin's clap. He glares at his new friend, who is doubling over in laughter, and then waits for the couple to join him.
"We have the contract here. Tell me, how much could you pay for rent?" Bilbo's puzzled.
"Uhm, shouldn't you tell me how much it is and I cry for you to lower it?" Balin and Dori share a chuckle.
"Oh, no, no, we only keep this place to house other people. We don't really need the rent, it is just a bit more to our monthly income." A bit rich from them, Bilbo considers, but will take anything. "So... how much?"
"I don't have a job-"
"You might get one," Frerin cuts in. "Monthly pay of 1700 Ereborian dollars, around 17000 Shire dollars. After taxes," Frerin adds with a smirk.
"Okay. Okay, listen, what's this? A prank?"
Bilbo is bristling. Do they think him an idiot? 17000 Shire dollars?? That's more than his debt with his prior landlord! He would be rich in Hobbiton with such wealth! Do they think him a fool?
"A prank? Why?" Balin asks, confused as the other two men.
"I am amnesiac. Disabled. I barely know who the hell I am, you know me even less for sure!" Bilbo glares at all of them. "And then I move here, and I am supposed to accept a flat like this and a job that pays me well for NOTHING?"
"Oh, no, not for nothing, you are paid for writing articles." Bilbo's temper gives in to a befuddled stare. "Oh, right, I am the chief of a newspaper, Acorn News, and I need someone to investigate crimes. You landing here with your journalist title was just perfect timing, so our close friend asks us to give you a try."
"And who the hell is this close friend?"
The three men in front of him share a look.
"Gandalf Grey," Dori says, a bit wary. The name means nothing to Bilbo. "You are amnesiac, then?"
"Yeah." Bilbo's eyes gaze away from the Ereborians. "An accident of some sort. Coma. Do you need to check my papers for it?"
"No, no, we believe you," Balin says with a smile. A smile full of curiosity, but no pity. Bilbo takes it. "Anything you need, call us."
"What about the leasing arrangement?"
Bilbo didn't expect to fill in a template agreement, but oh well. Here goes nothing.
