Time travel AU where after Thorin, Fili, and Kili are saved, Bilbo tells the company he went back in time and then Thorin is like “Wait so did I” and the Balin is like “Same here” and then even Bofur is like “You guys too?” And it turns out the entire company went back in time and they could have all been honest with each other from the beginning.
the thing about the hobbit movies is that even with all the extra bullshit they added to have it stretch across three movies, richard armitage is giving a legitimately heartbreaking performance as a noble king trying to reclaim his home and eventually falling to greed and madness. like he's killing it. he's carrying those movies so hard i dont even remember giving a shit about thorin in the book but i was fully crying when he died in the movies. he put his whole thorussy into that performance if we're being real
I think Bilbo, when he's upset with Thorin over something small, will give Thorin the second best scones or whatever during their tea/meal time. It's something Thorin is oblivious to and it gives Bilbo smug satisfaction in the moment but when thinking about it later in the day he feels terrible for it.
Did this for the amazing beautiful fic called sweet root by thesadchicken on ao3. The dialogue is also from the article.
I did try to get the author’s permission to post but i didn’t get any reply. This has sitting in my drafts for ages, so I’m just gonna post this hopefully they will see it someday. (I’m not sure how things work here so if the author got in touch with me and asked me to take this down, I’ll delete this.
Plz go read it if you hadn’t (it’s rated explicit so… 18+ only i guess
Here’s a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75745251?view_adult=true
Heeyyyyyy Happy Valentine’s Day!! Sorry for disappearing I got busy but I HAVE THINGS PLANNED TRUST U GUYS
Anyway take this bagginshield I don’t think there is enough fanart of Thorin being kissed and he’s a pretty princess, someone (Bilbo) should kiss that guy! Not to worry I shall do it myself!
I planed on opening it up later this year, but I lost my big boy job, so I'll have to dip into my savings heavily✌️🥲
5 slots available! DM me! But check TOS lower ↓
𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙼𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙲𝙴
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A little drabble I wrote as an outlet for these two pingponging around in my skull
“I’m surprised you have any left.”
Bilbo jolts, choking terribly on the smoke ring he had been an exhale away from forming. Bofur had woken him hours ago for second watch, and with nothing else to do, he had packed the last of his pipe-weed into Bombur’s spare pipe to watch the sun rise through the boughs of endlessly sprawling trees. It's a little big in his hand, but a pipe is a pipe, and a beggar is not a chooser.
Thorin stands to his right, framed in shadows, just out of reach of the fractured beam of almost-sunlight slicing through the grass in front of him, and with his brows furrowed in that particularly dour way they get when he's concerned.
Bilbo hastily thuds on his chest, glancing back at the company to make sure none have been woken by his fit — though really it would be Thorin’s fault anyway, and he would have no trouble telling anyone such if need be — but they all remain thankfully dead to the world. He half-believes he could prance about the camp singing bar songs and banging pots and pans together without rousing a soul.
Dwarves.
“Yes, well,” he lets out a final little cough and raises his pipe in greeting, “your surprise is misplaced, for this is the last of it.”
“I regret having made you waste even a breath of it then.” Thorin’s lips twitch minutely, and Bilbo scoffs.
“I’m quite sure," he sniffs. "And how does yours fare?”
He shimmies his way to the left side of the fallen tree trunk he’s perched on in silent invitation, and is only a little surprised when the dwarf crosses the distance, the right side of his body briefly illuminated in the reddish light of the coming dawn, before settling himself down gingerly to accommodate his still healing wounds.
“I have enough to last another month of travel at least,” Thorin says after a moment, face perfectly straight, “sitting within the bowels of the Misty Mountains.”
Bilbo’s lips purse, shoulders trembling in silent mirth.
“Assuming a goblin hasn’t picked it up to have a go at it,” he hums, tilting his head. “Though I can’t imagine it’d get through even a week’s worth with what you lot pass off as pipe-weed.”
The smile fighting its way onto Thorin’s face finally breaks through with a flash of teeth and a bark of startled laughter.
“That is a grave insult, Master Baggins, to claim our pipe-weed is not fit for even a goblin’s palette.”
“Here’s my apology,” Bilbo grins, holding out his borrowed pipe.
Thorin takes it, cool fingers brushing Bilbo’s, and takes a puff. He doesn’t look away, or even blink really, but Bilbo can’t fault him for the impropriety since he doesn’t look away or blink either. Thorin tilts his head toward the sky and blows a great smoke ring up into the trees.
“You are forgiven,” he says finally, eyes dancing.
Bilbo wonders if the scent will linger; If Thorin will spend the rest of the day smelling of nature and sweat and smoke, like a pipe of Old Toby on the porch after a long day of toil in the garden.
Like home.
A good use for the last of his homely comforts, Bilbo thinks. Yes, indeed.
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