"It is the small, everyday acts of gay hobbits that keep the darkness at bay."
-me, sunny, aka @devilspre-death.
DNI,
minors on NSFW posts, which will be tagged.
bigots, homophobes, racists, and any other hateful group.
non-constructive criticism, or any outright hate. (i will take honest and helpful criticism any and every day of the week, but i don't have the time or energy for straight judgement of my writing style and abilities)
hello! this is a silly little sideblog made specifically for me to post about all things in middle-earth, since my main blog doesn't really feel all that oriented for it.
POTENTIAL CONTENT WARNINGS:
- NSFW and slight fetish posting (nothing depraved).
- Deep angst, but probably not much of it.
- absolutely terrible writing. lol.
some stuff I'll post and write about are:
- Any ships I like, which are many and can expand with time and exposure. Current ones will be listed in the tags.
- Platonic dynamics between just about any characters.
- Singular explorations of a character.
- Disdain or hatred between two or more characters.
- Descriptions of physical or mental distress and harm.
- Explorations of mental health in characters.
My ask box is always open for suggestions, questions, recommendations, or quite honestly anything else!
AU where Thorin moved to the Shire and Bilbo helps him raise his nephews, along with Frodo because timelines be damned
Bilbo: And we dont touch the kettle without a rag because it is hot and will burn you
Kíli: *reach*
Bilbo: *moves his hand away*
Kíli: *reach*
Bilbo: *moves his hand away*
Kíli: *reach*
Bilbo: *moves his han-*
*meanwhile Thorin is passed out on the couch, Fíli also snoozing in his lap*
I think Fíli and Kíli were really curious and excited to meet Frodo and kept hounding him with questions, while Frodo just sort of hid behind Bilbo, gripping his pant legs
But once they got used to each other, the three became inseparable, constantly getting into mischief together
Little Frodo heavily judges his adoptive cousins for wearing shoes because he doesn't yet grasp that they're different races
while Frodo and Kíli are still young enough to struggle with speech, Fíli is really the only one who can fluently understand them and sort of becomes their translator until they get a little older
Fíli makes it a point to hold both of their hands when they're in town as to not lose either of them
Frodo being taught Khuzdul by the boys even though it was supposed to be kept secret. Fíli and Kíli didn't care.
Bilbo sneaks snacks to the three of them in between meals and gives them each a spoon to lick when he's baking
Thorin is the one who will get down on the floor and play with the boys, being extra carerul with Frodo because he's the smallest, youngest, and being a Hobbit, he's more fragile than Fíli or Kíli
One time Bilbo had to encourage Frodo to tell Thorin that he played too rough with him sometimes, like that one episode of Bluey
Kíli: You're in trouble :)
Bilbo: No, no one is in trouble. Frodo just has something he'd like to say to his uncle Thorin
Thorin: *kneels down*
Frodo: .... um.. sometimes you play too rough with me, sometimes..
Bilbo, holding Frodo's shoulders: Now Uncle Thorin, we don't want you to stop playing with us, right? Just be gentler, please
i really, really like this. like a lot. perfect post to break in this blog with >:)
even though they're all raised together, i still feel like frodo would pick up the eloquent baggins cadence, while fili and kili still hold the typical cadence of dwarves. this spawns much teasing between the two parties.
frodo and samwise are childhood friends as well, making a group of those two, merry, and pippin. those four are absolute hellspawn rascals when they're left to their own devices, but with the added chaos of fili and kili, they are an unstopped force.
Farmer Maggot, banging on the door to Bag-end. Bilbo opens the door to find a literal pile of hobbits and dwarves at his feet.
Maggot: I thought you said you talked to them?
Fili, covered in dirt, with a shit eating grin: He did, we just didn't listen!
Laughter among the equally dirty pile, unamused face from Maggot, and, a long drawn out groan from Bilbo.
Bilbo: ... Well, then. I guess I have no choice but to bring Thorin into thi-
Fili, Kili, and Frodo: NO
bilbo is the first mediator, teacher, and punisher in the family. when the children do something bad or get in trouble, he often takes the care to handle the aftermath the best way he can.
thorin, however, is the last resort. he is a wonderful caregiver, but he does not have the same tact that bilbo does and has much less patience, especially with his two contributions to the family.
bag-end is a big family home, with plenty of bedrooms and spaces for every child to have their own privacy and living space. but after like, a month of them all living together, bilbo went into frodos bedroom, only to find it empty and him having crawled in bed with his new brothers.
frodo is crafty, and he makes familial flower crowns for everyone at least once a week.
in return, fili and kili work together to gift rocks with equal meaning to the family.
frodo and bilbo still go on their weekly walks with just the two of them, but they also make time to take walks with all 5, often scheduled around lunch time for perfect picnic conditions.
with similar cultural unawareness to frodo, fili and kili are insanely shocked at how frodo and bilbo can eat 7 meals in a day. rather than picking fun, for a while, they try to keep up and eat with them as to not miss out on family time. it takes bilbo explaining that they can still just sit together for them to realize it's just a hobbit thing.
thorin wants to have a much closer bond with frodo, but the two of them are painfully awkward when they're left alone. however frodos ignorance to dwarven culture led him to ask if thorin could braid his hair like he did bilbo's, and thorin has been holding on to that moment ever since.
he did a familial braid and worked in the newly erected hobbit forge to create a bead with the khuzdul for "son" engraved on it.
as he grew older, each member of the family added braids to frodo's hair, even bilbo, and gifted him with their own beads.
in my fix-it au, thorin healed from the dragon sickness but he's still very obsessed with bilbo. it's really bilbo who leads the kingdom, since thorin would go to war if he saw the hobbit get a little too heated about the elves.
the dwarves of the company know to leave bilbo be, but bilbo is an attractive hobbit*, so forgive a young dwarf for complimenting the man for his cooking, his garden, or perhaps even his growing hair. he'll go back to his chambers, excitedly talking to thorin about how nice the dwarves can be when they aren't being absolute hard-heads. mind you, the two aren't bound yet. thorin feels too nervous to begin courting him, and bilbo doesn't even realize that's an option. but as he listens and his patience grows thinner, in as polite of a tone he can muster, he asks if bilbo would be interested in letting him braid part of his hair. his excuse is that "if you're going to remain under the mountain for the foreseeable future, it only makes sense to adopt one of the main points of our culture." and while bilbo eagerly agrees, he has no idea what exactly he means by culture. he's a smart hobbit in matters of the shire, shire folk, and the plants he cares for in the greenhouse, but he is still very ignorant on matters of other cultures the same way others are ignorant to his.
*i don't mean this in the "bilbo is the prettiest and most beautiful creature and everyone wants him!!!" kinds way, i am just personally smitten with bilbo in a manner akin to thorin himself and so i am projecting that. if that makes any sense. like, he isn't a "pick me", i've just picked him.
anywho, we've all read the cliche, where thorin puts a courting braid in bilbos hair without informing him of the meaning. it was, obviously, fili and kili who eagerly explained exactly what their uncle had done and what his meaning was, and even put familial braids in his hair in return. that gave bilbo a wonderful idea.
"they've added more braids to my hair," bilbo hummed in a noncommittal tone, seeming as though his attention was much more honed in on his book rather than the shocked face of the man beside him, who was reaching forward to take one of the new (adorably messy) braids in his hand. "these beads are familial.." thorin said with a sigh, like some weight was lifted off his shoulder. "fili and kili?" bilbo nodded, before putting his book down in his lap. his face wore an almost comical look of confusion, the exaggeration of which went unnoticed in thorin's mind. "oh, the beads mean something? i thought they were just there to hold it in place," he mimicked the words thorin had shared when the dwarf was adorning his head with a bead that, in hindsight, was much too colorful and intricate to have no meaning whatsoever.
thorin sputters, not having any excuse on hand for the sudden spotlight that's burning into his white lie, though it doesn't seem all that white any more. bilbo just shrugs with a smile, before opening his book back up again. that small motion, so sassy, so intentional, it set thorin on fire. he reaches over, grabs bilbo by the braid he did (not wanting to mess up the braids his sister-sons had decorated him with), and forced eye contact. both of them are caught off guard by the motion, but thorin pushes past the shock to put a stern, no nonsense look on his face.
"i have endowed you with a courting bead, bilbo baggins. many dwarves around the mountain do not understand that i intend to lay claim to your heart as those closest to me do. this braid," thorin stroked it gently for emphasis, bilbo's eyes locked on the motion. his goal was to be the forward one, to back thorin into a corner, but with the intensity of his gaze that the hobbit could not bring himself to meet, he seemed to accept defeat on this mission... maybe. "it's to show them. i.. do admit it was quite disrespectful of me not to.. ask you if.." nevermind! thorin was unable to find the words he wanted to say, and bilbo seized the opportunity. their faces were so close, anyways. his hands needed something to do. he needed to put out the fire in his brain before it drove him insane. it was very, very, very uncharacteristic of a baggins to engage in any intimacy before they had initiated their end of courtship, but he knew this was a rule his father too had broken. besides, right now, he was not a hobbit of bag-end. he was a hobbit under the mountain, the hobbit of erebor, the hobbit of the king.
they fuck crazy style right after this but idk if yall wanna read that... let me know
thorin finds out about hobbits and flowers and courting, so he gives bilbo the cherished gift of his favorite flower as his official courting gift. he feels weird about it since dwarven courting gifts are usually much more permanent than a simple flower, but bilbo more than happily accepts it. it is to thorins absolute shock when, about a week later, thorin finds that same flower permanently preserved in the middle-earth equivalent of resin, still sitting on his ear.
some concepts heavily inspired by @talekinesis 's non sexual a/b/o universe! i'm throwing my hat into the ring here, cringe be fucking DAMNED.
NON-SEXUAL a/b/o, relationship establishment, love under pressure.
pairing(s): bagginsheild
content warning(s): canon typical high stakes, injury, contemplation of death.
i'm a big fan of whumps, and an even bigger fan of a/b/o, soo.. combining those two, cause i CAN. fair warning, a/b/o is really only a backdrop here, and it's kinda the unhinged rambling of my sleep deprived mind. i will clean this up later, lol!
Bilbo, being an odd hobbit himself, had once or twice felt anxiety when going to sleep as overly imaginative visions of his roof collapsing plague his mind when he knows his obnoxious cousins will be coming to visit the next day, but even he had not entertained the idea beyond such escapist ideations. Neither had he experienced or heard much of a real cave-in, being as he had never been in a cave before his sudden adventure, after all.
Within the Shire, you will find either the richest or the poorest of hobbits residing in Smials. These homes, often simplified to be called "hobbit holes", are dug into the sides of hills within the land and require much structural reinforcement to remain standing under the natural weight of the land above, which grows only heavier when it rains or snows. When the Shire Reckoning began and the first of the Smials were built, much trial and error underwent to ensure there were no cave-ins in the middle of the night. But once the method was perfected, no extra thought was put into the idea of such a collapse. Such is the nature of hobbits; when something is not broken yet, there is no need to worry about fixing it.
Erebor, as one could imagine, was really just an abundance of caves that had been inhabited or expanded by the residents and miners in its populace, and such a thing intrigued Bilbo to a high degree. The omega once rambled about the concept to Thorin when he first got to explore the winding hallways and tunnels of the Kingdom without any threat to his life, how Erebor could almost be compared to a massive Smial. Thorin disagreed, but still found himself glad to hear such a wild accusation. To him, that meant that the Kingdom under the Mountain could, in some way, be seen as home to Bilbo.
Anywho, the hobbit, who internally agreed with such a notion though was too headstrong to admit such a vulnerable thing so soon, had made it an intentional goal of his to map out the winding hallway, random rooms, and various mineshafts in his memory, much as he had his own home when he was a wee lad. The scale of the task now more appropriately matched his age, and was much more intimate, but was equally sacred in his mind.
A day had come when Bilbo had made it his goal to explore the tunnels of one of the wider, more expansive mineshafts, one most dwarves find themselves still weary of despite initial clearings of the area. They spoke of structural failings, odd creaking in the wood and stone that should not be there, yet conveniently in that language the hobbit didn't even have the right to inquire about. Dwarves and their secrecy annoyed him to the highest degree; they somehow only ever told him about the lines he could not cross rather than making an effort to let him in. However, unable to heed their warnings, the hobbit strolled like an utter fool into a collapse waiting to happen.
Conveniently, in tandem with Bilbo walking into a mouth of sudden doom he could not have for saw, Thorin and a majority of his company sat in a meeting. One of what felt like a hundred he must endure, as much as they irked him much like sharp nails against fresh cut granite. He barely spoke in these by now, his tail thumping against the side of his chair, positioned at the head of the table, broadcasting his growing irritation openly to the lords and ladies of the council he did not quite ask for.
At first, Thorin was stupidly relieved by the sudden interruption of the conference room bursting open. The lord who had been rambling about why he should most definitely be allowed twice his current property size for whatever reason he could come up with, which was not what "urgent meetings" are meant for whatsoever, found himself cut off mid sentence with actual urgency.
"My King, punish me for my interruption later, but there's been a cave-in. A big'n. That old, big one." The small dwarf spat out, chest heaving. He had ran with an importance that implied harm, that much was clear. "That describes just about all of them," Thorin grunted out as he stood. "Give me some specifics."
He followed behind the dwarf, who was likely a teenager if he had to guess. "'s the one we just started tapping in again, sir. Er, your highness. We all felt wrong about it, but some'n pushed some'n else, so a handful started mining again. It got cleared, so, I guess there wadn't any clear reason not to." Thorin huffed, before taking a clear sniff of the air. It took a few inhales for him to catch it; metallic and heavy, the unmistakable scent of pain. No death, yet, but there was agony, and as his tail swayed and ears laid flat, he began storming after it, leaving the rambling child in the dust of his path.
Among the scent of anguish, however, Thorin's keen nose picked up something floral, and his mind blanked. That smell had been haunting the man's every waking moment. He had smelled many an omega before, had met with a handful of maiden suiters when he was just a boy, but none had illicit as strong of a reaction in the Alpha's pheromones as Bilbo Baggins had. He was almost knocked on his feet as he had crossed the threshold into Bag-end, which was so heavily marked with the hobbits scent that it could have sent him into an early rut, were he not so addled with stress at the time. Along with feeling such a primal pull dragging him towards Bilbo, there was also something stronger. Ancient stories told of Mahal creating the dwarven lords to awaken with their One's. Durin woke up alone. Many interpreted this as the line of Durin to be destined to live and die without finding their One, but Thorin never truly believed that to be true. Rather, he believed, with such cursed luck his bloodline seemed to have inherited, his One was not to be a dwarf. For most of his life, he was convinced it was an elf, and he was better off dying alone. Bilbo, that cursed hobbit, with his unique tail and snarky attitude and courage much surpassing that of any omega he had ever met, had immediately trampled that idea the moment his wide green eyes met Thorin's sky blue.
Thorin had imprinted this scent to memory, many times believing and fearing he may never be overwhelmed by it again. It was unmistakable. Instinct took over as he knew his One was in danger, and if Thorin was not the one to save him, he would no longer be worthy of the beads he now gripped with fervor in his pocket.
"Hgh..." About a dozen voices rang out at once as Bilbo's hearing returned to him, all grunting and groaning in a shared pain. The first of his senses to become overwhelmed was his nose, as a strong, disgusting smell of metal, musk, and dust almost threatened to knock him out a second time. There was something else, slowly gaining strength above that of plain blood around him, but his body began screaming before the hobbit could quite place it.
He felt it first in his head. That made sense, as when the loud crack rang out through the wide expanse of the shaft, a nearby dwarf had all but jumped to Bilbo's back, slamming him into the ground and shielding his head before the rubble began to collapse. Everything happened all at once, as before it was simply the weight of one dwarf keeping him pinned down, but in nearly the same second, it quadrupled. Rocks are heavy, the hobbit thought through the fog in his mind. A remaining sliver of rationality knew he was beyond concussed.
"Aye, little lad," the dwarf above him, alive only by a miracle of Mahal, began to speak before falling into a loud coughing fit. It was deeply strained and wheezy, but the fact he was speaking brought some comfort to the back of Bilbo's mind. "'r you still with us? By Mahal, I hope so, or 'ell have all of our heads.."
"Oh... Just fine," the omega replied. His tail instinctively moved to sway with the same sarcasm his tone carried, but he found it pinned down. "A bit of pain everywhere, b-but..." he found himself wincing as he tried to move his left arm, which was either bruised or broken, so he shifted his right to try and move himself to his side somehow.
The dwarf crushing Bilbo's head had to have been super-human (or, super-dwarf?), as he began pushing rubble from above them out of the way. "'s is a cave-in, pretty bad one." He huffed, voice and body straining as he fought for room in the mess. "'f we're lucky, which id'nt likely, it was just a layer of the ceiling that came down, n'd not the whole bloody cave..."
Bilbo nodded slightly, as much as he could considering the circumstances. By now, he was able to focus more on that second scent, which was creeping into his mind more by the second, eventually winning dominance over that of the literal bloodshed around him. It was undeniably, unmistakably Thorin. He was getting close, and he was fuming. Concerned and fuming. But mostly unhealthily angry. Bilbo scoffed out loud, half tempted to scold the man when he came face to face with him. If he did.
Adrenaline is a funny thing. It often works to the advantage of the one afflicted, but once it runs thin, the backlash is a worse feeling than if the rush hadn't been there in the first place. All at once, the reality of exactly what had happened to him had hit. He had, oh so ignorantly, followed a group of 14 miners into a cave, despite the grim looks on all of their faces, and ended up crushed under what felt like hundreds of pounds of weight. And while that couldn't be accurate, as he was still alive, the pain he felt made it rather difficult for him to rationalize his thought process.
If he were to die here, it would be the worst possible way he could. The omega had, despite nearly everything being stacked against him, survived an adventure that required signing a dozen page contract listing every way he could possibly be crippled for life, or have his life stolen away entirely. He had experienced countless things that none other had lived through to tell the tale, and his life was somehow brought to higher luxury than it had been before because of it. But it was starting to feel like the damned rock impaling his left leg was going to be the thing that did it for him. There was much he was going to miss out on, if he died here. He had recently received a letter informing him of the unfortunate passing of one of his closer relatives, which left one of the worst things to a hobbit - an orphan. The letter stated that it would not be required for him to claim the boy, named Frodo, but it was him that the 'ling was asking for. He had made plans to return to the Shire for the first time since his departure to meet with him, his second-cousin-once-removed, who he hadn't even met. It shocked him that Frodo was asking for him specifically. Surely his parents had some other family or friends he knew more intimately. Bilbo was nothing close to a parental figure, the closest he had gotten was scolding the children near his home who took to trampling in his precious garden. Oh.. his garden. His greenhouse here in Erebor was soon to be complete. He had already begun filling the plant beds prematurely, much too excited to find comfort in something of home. Thorin hadn't made any effort to stop him, and instead sat, watched, and listened while Bilbo ranted about the different plants he had requested and their symbolism. Surrounded by the scent of Thorin, he didn't even realize when he let the importance of flowers in his culture slip until he noticed the flush on Thorin's face. He never saw the dwarf blush before, had never witnessed his tail wag with such vigor, his scent grow even more overwhelming, something he didn't even believe possible. Being an alpha and omega, each other's true feelings were laid bare much more than either two had liked. They each knew how the other felt in a way more intimate and primal than they could truly comprehend. Their want for each other was only able to be restricted through the constant demands Thorin had to meet, leaving little time for the two to properly court, or even mate. Bilbo would die here without ever mating with Th...
Or, maybe not. A loud crash tore the hobbit from his daze. He had fainted again, likely from the loss of blood in his thigh, but was still alive. Another bang shot through the air, a musky scent tearing through the natural smell of the earth and the rubble and the stale pain. Other races described the dwarves as smelling of clay and bile, a smell only their kin could love. But while Thorin had that characteristic clay of the earth, he also smelled of the clearest waterfall you could imagine, reflecting his youth, potential, and strength. Especially right now, where being so close to him felt like being crushed under such a waterfall, though in the best way possible. Nearly every second, a clang, crash, thump, bang cut through the muffling of the stone, getting closer and closer to the location of the dwarf and hobbit.
The smells in the air indicated a large group, though one or two would occasionally fall behind as they uncovered survivors. Bilbo would later find out that the stone was so brittle that breaking through was no struggle for the dwarves, especially not for an adrenaline and hormone blinded Thorin. They had, indeed, only been crushed by a singular layer of rock, but every second meant the possibility of full collapse, so recovery efforts were quick and almost too ruthless, though most understood the haste.
Bilbo knew, very soon on, that Thorin was coming for him. His scent betrayed as much. No dwarf was on his mind, no concern for his own life. He would follow the scent of the hobbit until he found him. He could feel something in his brain being tugged closer to Thorin, somehow, like his being was being pulled into an embrace before he was physically. An odd reassurance. "I am coming. I am going to save you, if it is the last thing I do."
A week passed in recovery. While dwarves were not known across the lands for their medics, Bilbo had to hand it to them, they knew how to care for gnarly injuries and promote full recovery. He supposed they had seen many a cave-in in their time, and knew how to handle them. For the first few days, he faded in and out of consciousness quite frequently, spending more time asleep than he did awake. This, he later learned, brought his medical team close to insanity, as they needed to keep him awake to monitor his concussion. Thorin spent only an hour receiving medical attention. He had thrown out both of his arms, and nearly dislocated his arm once he finally had Bilbo in his vision. The omega could imagine it, his alpha tearing rock with his bare hands. The fantasy kept him warm and content as he slept, as did the constant scent of that man constantly by his side. Thorin ate, slept, and worked by Bilbo's bedside. He personally handled keeping him fed and, with his explicit permission, keeping him washed once his body was in the state to endure such a thing.
"It's quite embarrassing, isn't it?" Bilbo mused one evening. By now, besides needing to walk with a cane, and his tail being much less active than it used to be, you could barely tell he was within an inch of his life some time before. And yet, Thorin, his mate, insisted on helping him bathe. "Hm?" Thorin hummed behind him. Bilbo inclined his head to the side, catching Thorin's gaze within his own. "That I experienced the first cave-in since your return to the mountain, and almost died to it. I heard some openly claim it a bad omen on our union." The hobbit exaggerated his tone near the end, mocking the shock and urgency he perceived in their voices. While Bilbo expected a laugh, or perhaps a grunt, he was instead met with an arm wrapping around his shoulders, gently pulling him backwards into a strong... clothed chest. "Oh- Thorin, you're getting your shirt all wet! It was just washed, too. Come on-" His thoughts were fully halted as nose met scent gland, and instinct kicked in, melting Bilbo in place.
"They may think what they want. I see your survival as a blessing from Yavanna and Mahal combined... By all means, that wound in your leg should have bled out, or your head been crushed by the rubble. But neither occured. You are here.... And whether the lords and ladies, men and women, elder or child think it appropriate or not, I am their king... And we are eachothers."
reversal au where Bilbo is the one who dies and not Thorin, and while he expects Gandalf to show up and scold him for his negligence, he simply presents Thorin with a small Hobbit orphan and no further instructions.
