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blueberrypancakesworld · 5 months

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The king's toy - Thranduil x fem!reader

warning : smutish, use of wine, possesive, some degradation, obsession

Summary : The Elven King Thranduil, ruler of Mirkwood and his pretty toy. A human woman, no more than a second of beauty in the king's infinite life. But with every second they spend together, he consumes her more and more. In the end, she had no choice but to obey her king.

Info : So Thranduil or the Hobbit mini phase you could say has taken hold of me after I saw some scenes with my mother this morning. So have this little slightly more dark thing for the elven king

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°,,From this day forward, you are nin múl," said the king of the mirkwood. He looked down at her from the high throne made of deer antlers and wood. She was his beautiful human wife, actually a traveling singer in a group from different parts of the world. But with money, precious stones and the command of a king, her "companions" were worth more than her. Now she knelt before him, her gaze undecided and fearful, knowing that she belonged to him. But this fact, this absurdity, frightened her even more. His gaze let her know that he would bring her to so much more.

°He had not called her my slave for nothing. She quickly learned not to disobey his orders. His guards, his own son, had recaptured her from the forest within a few hours. No matter how many times she was carried away, the ropes closed around her body, precisely encircling and yet holding her tight. Her pleas were met with a pitying look from the prince. ,,Don't struggle...it makes it easier," he said to her as he brought her into the throne room. The rope on her hands was loosened slightly by Legolas, but she would not get out of the hall.

°,,Again and again! Understand at last that you belong to me," he demanded, gesturing to his son. She did not see the hesitant look as he knew what this would mean. But another look was not necessary as he gave his father his well-formed staff and disappeared with a dismissive look. The footsteps faded and it seemed dead silent between them. ,,Please, Your Majesty, let me-just let me go," she tried, wincing as the wood of the staff settled under her chin. He forced her to look at him and she flinched as his cold fingers laid on her cheeks.

°In the time she had been here, she had quickly learned that he was not purely interested in the physical. No, there was the night when he lost himself in her, wanted to hear the sounds she made, wanted to let everyone hear them. He took her body as he wanted, used her as he wanted and yet his eyes flashed in the mirror again and again when he took her. But just when their eyes met in the mirror, she saw his obsession as he pulled her close, his hands exploring her crown. He saw her beauty, the thought of holding her in his hands and having her for himself.

°Another thing besides the punishments from the blows with his staff, sword or hand was his emotionality. When he looked at her he was calm and almost happy, but when she used her talent to play the harp she was better than the elves. She was Thranduil's personal songbird, playing for him while the king looked at her, read a book or hummed along. It was the only time she blossomed and felt at ease when she played the harp. But it was then that she felt the pitying gaze of Legolas. But her father saw it too.

°He saw his son looking at the pretty creature. He imagined that he also wanted to give her something. Love and devotion. Something the king could not allow. Under other circumstances, he would have let his son have fun with it. But those would have been different circumstances. Now it was different and perhaps it was the rise of evil, the dwarves, the dragon and the ring. Maybe it was the loss of his wife, the emotions or it was all together that made him become so obsessive.

°She only became even more his perfect favorite, his pretty star in matching clothes. Initially white hip dresses with bright gemstones, robes and blouses that hid her body underneath. Only visible to the king in his bedroom when the wine flowed over her, wetting her skin and turning the white a dark red. It was a favorite of the king to kiss and lick the sweetly tart wine from her bed with the finest steel. Forged to leave her in place. Until at some point it went so far that her body was covered with the most necessary. Silver threads threaded with diamonds barely covered her nipples, a simple crown of wood with white roses on her head and a white, almost transparent fabric wrapped around her midriff. Her fingers were adorned with precious rings, gifts from her king.

°Whenever she saw him, she was nestled against his leg on the throne. Playing the harp, her gaze blank and evasive, resigning herself to her life was the harp that kept her alive. Before he pulled her onto his throne whether there were guests in the room or not. Who was to stop him for he was the king of mirkwood and his actions were right and proper. His son would not have the opportunity to mess with his diamond and everyone else would be honored to be in his presence.

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@tinfairies

#the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #hobbit movies #legolas greenleaf

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allysunny · 5 months

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imagine miguel x fem!reader who absolutely LOVES disney, and she’s able to convince miguel to watch snow white and the seven dwarfs (1937) with her. At first miguel thinks it’s just a boring cartoon, but ends up enjoying it. More importantly, he enjoys watching it with you

Watching Snow White with Miguel O'Hara

Words: 2.1k words

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff! Miguel is very skeptical and a somewhat bore but he's OUR skeptical and a smowhat bore! Please do correct me on the spanish if it's incorrect! No beta, we die like Uncle Ben.

A/N: Hey everyone!!! Here's another one of your requests! This one is short - I've been experimenting with that bullet point headcanon sort of format I told you guys about. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I loved writing this nevertheless! It had been a while since I had watched the movie, so I got to rewatch it and have a fun time :)

It's been a while since I've written for Miggy - please go easy on me!

I hope you all enjoy this!

You’d suggested watching Snow White after jokingly calling him “Grumpy”. He’d come home one day sulking because of some Spider Society affairs (apparently, he did not like the way that new Miles Morales kid handled thing – “too emotional”, he said), and you’d taken one good look at him and called him “Grumpy”. He clearly didn’t understand what you were referring to, so you thought it’d be a fun way for you to spend an afternoon.

Miguel didn’t get the appeal of animated movies. He thought they were for children and hadn’t watched many. They weren’t his style either – Miguel liked biopics, historical drama, not silly little animated musicals with talking animals and, in his humble opinion, “very impossible happy endings” – when you told him you believed in happy endings because you’d found yours with him, he blushed and turned away, pouting and mumbling something about “you clearly being the exception because you were special and perfect in every way”

One Saturday afternoon, you were feeling particularly lazy, so after cleaning the apartment with him, you decided to celebrate. It was time for a much-deserved rest. You prepared some popcorn, grabbed a few blankets (for yourself of course – Miguel thought you were an undiagnosed psychopath because of the number of blankets you loved to cuddle under), and sat on the couch.

When Miguel looked at you, he raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, noticing the popcorn on your lap.

“I think it’s about time you get schooled on the art of animation.” You smiled and patted the seat on the couch next to you.

Miguel made a soft “tch” sound but sat nevertheless, wrapping an arm around you, as he always did. He could be grumpy and pout all he wanted, but you had him wrapped around your finger.

“So, what are you making me watch, huh muñeca?”

“We’re watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,” you quickly searched for the movie on your TV, and grinned once the bright Disney logo shone.

“Really? A kid’s movie? That’s why you’re wasting my time?” Miguel quirked one eyebrow and crossed his arms.

You scoffed, clearly offended. Sure, you could see his muscles through the fabric of the shirt when he crossed his arms like that, but it was beside the point and you would not let it deter you.

“It’s not just a kid’s movie! In fact, it was the first ever animated movie! It was a trendsetter! This movie walked so all animated movies could run! It’s a landmark in cinema history, it’s - “

“Vale, vale,” Miguel interrupted you, “I get it. It’s a big deal. Very important. Can you just press play?”

And so, you did!

At first, Miguel didn’t get it. It was silly. The plot was silly. Very silly, actually. Why would a Queen be worried about not being the prettiest? It sounded like a very weak reason to hate someone. It’s not like this Snow White girl wanted to steal her throne or her kingdom. And why dress her in rags? Clothes wouldn’t be able to hide her physical appearance. Sure, they could make her look dirty and unkempt, but they wouldn’t necessarily make her ugly. And what’s the deal with that Magic Mirror anyway? How can it talk? Why is it magic? Does magic exist in this world? How? It’s not really established, it just sort of exists. And the animation – it wasn’t at all that good. It was rather rudimentary, and not at all like the great landmark you mentioned.

“Miguel, it’s a movie. Don’t think about it too much,” you’d mumbled when you saw his expression, the one he always had, with the furrowed brows and tightened lips, the one that signalled he was deep in thought. “Just go with it, okay?”

He did.

Once the Prince and Snow White shared their first duet, he was kind of sceptical, but after taking one good look at you and your content expression, he relaxed, holding you tighter. You curled into his side and smiled.

And to be honest, he started getting into it.

After the Queen made her request to have the Huntsman hunt down Snow White, he shook his head. “What a hateful woman,” he said. “Hunting down a poor innocent girl just because of her beauty. Maybe the reason she’s not ‘the fairest of them all’ is because she’s actually hideous on the inside”. You beamed at that. Miguel seemed to be getting in the spirit.

Once Snow White found out from the Huntsman about the Queen’s order and ran away into the forest, you could sense Miguel was nervous. The dark shadows and hidden figures that so scared the young Princess had him tense up. You nearly chuckled out loud. He was scared. “Everything alright, my love?” you asked him. “Pobrecita….” Was all he said, shaking his head.

When Snow White started singing and gathering the animals around her, Miguel snorted. You looked up at him, confused. What seemed to be so funny?

“That’s you,” he said, pointing at the screen.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s you, alright. Always surrounded by people, bringing them together. Everyone in Spider Society loves you. Watching you interact with those idiots is like watching this movie.” He looked at you and you melted before those chestnut eyes. Bringing your hand up, you pressed a soft kiss on his jaw and turned to the movie once again.

How sweet he was.

He could try all he wanted. He could be tall, bulky, mean, scary Miguel all he wanted at HQ – around you, he was as needy as a lost puppy.

“Pft – look at her! Breaking into a random house in the woods. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is how she got herself killed.” “Miguel, shhh –“ “It’s the truth! What if this is a trap set by the Queen, huh? Snow White is not as careful as she should be.” You chuckled at Miguel’s comments, most of them which funny rather than annoying. His scepticism and aloofness in life provided him with a different, more realistic view on the movies. You had to admit though – he was right. What if it was a trap?

“Hah – that’s us,” Miguel said as Snow White began to clean up the house. “Although I wouldn’t want a weasel cleaning my plates – is that deer licking them?!” “It’s a –“ “Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘It’s a movie Miggy, don’t think too hard about it’. I know, I’ve heard it. I’m just stating a fact – it’s disgusting.” You hummed, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time you feel like licking me –“ “That’s different cariño, I just can’t help –“, “You’re not watching, Miguel!”

“That’s grumpy?!” Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. You laughed, shrugging your shoulders. “I think you look exactly like him. And look at his scowl!” Miguel shook his head and pouted, and while you should’ve stopped teasing him, you just couldn’t stop with the laughter. He looked exactly like the character, with his sulking expression and crossed arms. You had to pause the movie for a while because tears were streaming down your face. Miguel sulked even further, and only relaxed once you’d kissed him plenty and told him he was “a very handsome grumpy” and “the grumpy of your heart”.

“Tch, if I’m Grumpy, then you’re Dopey.” “WHAT?!”

It’s important to note it was only now that Miguel even realised you were clutching a bowl of popcorn, so he accused you of “hoarding” and placed in on his lap so the both of you could share. Or, well, share whatever was left of it.

You two watched the rest of the movie, Miguel still throwing in small quips about the characters here and there. He smiled as the dwarves danced with Snow White, foot actually tapping to the rhythm of the song. When Grumpy seemed to melt after the princess had kissed his head, he almost melted. “Maybe I am your Grumpy after all”, he said, to which you giggled and took a popcorn from the bowl.

As soon as the Evil Queen appeared once again, he scowled cursing her name in Spanish.

“Snow’s far too kind for her own good. Who’d take an apple from a stranger? The dwarves told her not to let anyone in. She’s far too trusting for her own good.” He mumbled, shoving handful of popcorn into his mouth (you’d had to go get a new pack). “Well, she’s kind and good. She saw someone in need and wanted to help. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.” You replied. “Yes, but people take advantage of her. The Evil Queen is preying on her kindness. Qué pendeja…”

It was eerily quiet once Snow was inside the coffin, and the dwarves were mourning her loss. You tried to say something about it, but he quickly shushed you. The tables had turned – this was it; he was interested in the movie.

But that sadness did not last long. The Prince came along and kissed Snow White, waking her up. Of course, Miguel being Miguel, he made some sort of comment about how “how creepy it was he’d just kissed a corpse out of nowhere”, but there was a smile in his face when they rode off to his kingdom, so you paid it no mind.

After the movie had ended, you looked at him. It was hard to decipher what was going on inside that beautiful head of his, but you tried, nevertheless.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Did you like it?”

Miguel stared at the television some more, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“You’re telling me this was the first ever animated movie?” he asked, still looking at the screen.

“The very first.”

“I see. Well, the animation was quite rudimentary,” he began, “And the plot had some flaws. Snow was far too trusting.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Of course, it had all been in your head. Why would he have liked an animated movie? It wasn’t his style and all. He probably thought it was girly and stupid, and you’d just wasted his time.

You were beginning to utter an apology when he kept speaking.

“But it was fun. I liked it.” His eyes were soft, finally holding your gaze. Sure, the movie wasn’t particularly his type. He wasn’t a big fan of princesses, and there were far too many musical numbers for his taste. But he got to spend one whole afternoon with you in his arms, watching as you smiled and giggled and gushed over this movie that you clearly held so dear in your heart, and he would do it all again in a heartbeat, just for the privilege of seeing you happy.

And if that wasn’t love, then what was it?

“It reminded me of how selfless and kind you are.”

You blushed under his praise, and hid your face in the crook of his neck. Miguel brought his hand up and caressed your cheek absentmindedly.

“I’m serious, cariño. Sure, I may be Grumpy all you want, but you’re just as good and altruistic as she is.”

You looked up into his eyes, cheeks aflame and heart all fuzzy.

“You think so?”

Miguel smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“No, I’m joking. You’re Dopey.”

He laughed loudly and you huffed, throwing the now empty popcorn bowl aside to all but jump on him, attempting to tackle him doing and tickle him. He let you do whatever you wanted for a while, pretending you could compete with him, falling on the couch and feigning defeat. But he quickly got bored, and held both of your arms with one hand, flipping the two of you so you were laying on your back, and he hovered over you.

When he kissed your neck repeatedly, you laughed out loud, willing to surrender. Miguel knew all your secret spots – he nosed the one you were most ticklish in, and you yelped, feet kicking up. He merely smirked at this reaction and kept placing kiss after kiss after kiss on the column of your neck.

“As I was saying,” he said, matter-of-factly, lifting his head to kiss you gently on the lips. You were so beautiful; he wondered what the shock he must’ve done to have the privilege to be with such an amazing woman.

“I enjoyed our time together. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. ¿Mañana vemos otra?”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader

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lesbiansforboromir · 11 months

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the demonic force that lives on the landing outside my bedroom made me relive Galadriel's opening monologue to the fotr film in the millisecond it took to pass through the doorway and now I am struck still and petrified, compressing my guts into diamonds with how much malice I am generating "and nine were given to the race of men who above all else desire power" I- hrrgrh hcrscchhh hrrgggrrr

Galadriel. Is literally. She- THE ENTIRE REASON. SHE IS EVEN IN MIDDLE EARTH IN THE FIRST PLACE... IS BECAUSE SHE WANTED POWER. THAT'S IT. IT'S THE UNIFYING MOTIVE ACROSS ALL TWELVE BILLION OF HER DRAFTED BACKSTORIES FOR WHY SHE LEFT VALINOR AT ALL. IT'S HER PURPOSE FOR EVEN REMAINING THERE, IT'S HER SUCCEEDED GOAL, SHE HAS HER RING OF POWER THAT SHE USES TO LITERALLY EMBALM A SILVAN SETTLEMENT IN TIME WHICH SHE THEN RULES OVER FOR 3000 YEARS I- I can't even breathe just the- like it's certainly in character for her but the HYPOCRISY and played totally straight in the films like I'm wheezing I'm choking on my lust for violence right now and GOd especially given the rest of that monologue which might as well have been;

three were given to the elves who are the ontologically superior race seven to the dwarves who make things I suppose and nine were given to the race of men who invented bigotry and hate god

Like no ffffucking wonder the whole lotr fandom is so at home with dabbling in racial superiority and morality hierarchies when it's so brazenly displayed in the opening scene of this film like it's entirely correct, how did Peter just get away with this how did everyone just believe him, local elf queen recounts history of how her race is perfect and the world was pure until those fucking humans came along and ruined everything, groundbreaking!! Reliable source!! Citation not needed, we! will! trust you bro!!

#lotr films negative #text post #film critical #anti galadriel #tolkien #lotr #hhhh AAAA hhhhh AAAA I want to cry blood #I have a migraine

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madhatterbri · 4 months

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Christmas In The Mountains | C.C.

Summary: Could you do a Christian Cage fic where it's the first Christmas together where y/n had a birthday during the holidays (doesn't necessarily have to be on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day) with some fluff and spice?

Author's Note: Requested by @dandelionw1shes If your birthday was during the holidays, Happy Birthday. ❤️

@midwestmade29

@1dluver13xx

There wasn't much you wanted for your birthday this holiday season. Just a nice time away from everyone for a few days. No work, no hectic schedules, no catching airplanes, just pure peaceful bliss. Christian surprised you with a quick getaway to Tennessee in the cabins to celebrate your birthday and Christmas.

It was the perfect plan. He came back from an AEW taping on Christmas Eve. He would never want to miss his first Christmas with you. You spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with family and friends before taking off once more. He wasn't going to miss work since he already pre-taped a segment to hype people for World's End.

The cabin was a dream come true for you. A wooden house for just the two of you. The cabin had a balcony with lawns chairs and a jacuzzi to get a better view of the mountains. The bedrooms were upstairs, leaving the bottom floor spacious enough for a living room and kitchen.

You found the best part to be the peace. Every morning, you walked out to the balcony to enjoy the peace. There were no car horns blaring or loud music. Just the quiet your body and mind so desperately needed. The closest civilization was a small town with less than five hundred people. A little slice of heaven.

The peace had an amazing effect on your favorite wrestler. Christian was a different person while on vacation. His normal stern facial expressions were relaxed. He laughed more and was more affectionate. You never wanted to leave the cabins.

On your last full day at the cabins, you went on a hike with him. At the end of the trail was a waterfall. You took plenty of pictures together to remember this moment, although you knew you would never forget it.

After stopping for lunch at the town, you decided to drink at the local bar. The place was quiet except for a few regulars. The jukebox played music that you both enjoyed.

Christian decided to drive the two of you home so you could see the sunset in the mountains one last time. You sat on his lap in the jacuzzi and watched the pink and orange streaks in the sky. Before long night took over.

Stars twinkled the night sky. A couple of shooting stars could be observed as well. You rested your head against his shoulder. He planted a kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you," you smiled and looked at him. You stared into his eyes and kissed him. Your hands rubbed up and down his chest.

"For what?" He asked. His head fell back as he closed his eyes. The jacuzzi helped with any soreness in his muscles.

"This trip. The chance to just be together," you answered. "I don't know how I can ever thank you,"

"I can think of a few ways," he smirked and spun you to face him on his lap. He rubbed his hands up your sides. "There is one way I can really think of though,"

"Christian!" You gasped yet giggled. A blush appeared on your cheeks. You would be lying if you hadn't thought about it with him. No one was around for miles.

"What? Are you afraid Snow White and the seven dwarves will hear you? Come to papa," He teased and kissed you softly. You deepened the kiss, running your fingers through his hair. You separated from him to get air.

"You are going to be the death of me," you confessed and untied your top. Christian smiled and kissed you with more intensity. His arms wrapped around you as if you would float away from him.

#fanfiction #aew fanfiction #christian cage fanfiction #christian cage fanfic #christian cage x reader #christian cage x y/n #christian cage x you

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wanda-maximoff-enthusiast · 2 years

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Hello! I saw that you said your requests for The Hobbit were open, which made me very excited because I love your writing style so much. May I please request for you to write something with Gandalf telling Thorin & Co. he’s adding someone to the company and them being very annoyed, and then Mr. Gandalf—in his infinite wisdom—referring to y/n as “she” and them flipping the frickity frick out because women are fragile and dainty and need to be protected (cue eye roll). Then upon meeting her, she’s a wee bit unhinged and wild and overall just Morally Gray Slightly Insane Badass? I’m thinking of Harley Quinn’s fight scenes from Bird of Prey where she’s just super kickass and efficient, slamming people into the ground and twirling her bat around like a baton.

I’m sorry if this is too specific! I’d love to see what you would do with this prompt. You can add any pairings you would like. If it doesn’t interest you, then I respect that, feel free to ignore! Thank you!

THIS IS ABSOLUTE PERFECTION I think we need a little bit more badass (Y/N), come on guys

But yes, absolutely. This looks like it should have a part two, so if anybody wants that lemme know.

~Her~

the company x fem!reader (platonic)

Summary: Gandalf is adding somebody new to the company (albeit without telling Thorin), and the company are shocked when he lets one little pronoun slip.

Warnings: A bit of sexism (the dwarves think all women are quite meek and dainty), (Y/N) is an absolute girlboss so prepare for that

A/N: I'm rewatching the Hobbit atm. kili >>>>>>

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Gandalf towered over the dwarves - and Bilbo - as he spoke rapidly to try and avoid the orcs within a nearby fortress. "I think now would be best to tell you of the newest member of the company."

The dwarves looked at each other, suspicious of the wizard's intentions. Thorin's dark brows furrowed above his eyelids.

"Go on." He said, voice firm and demanding.

"Well, I believe this person will be a very good addition. A trained fighter, a little crazy, albeit, but still a useful asset."

Thorin's crystal eyes glared at Gandalf.

"And how much of this did you care to inform me of?"

"Thorin, I assure you, this is all going to work out-"

"Can we, like, not be doing this right now? In a few seconds, a whole army of orcs is going to burst through those doors." Fili spoke up, pulling two daggers from his pockets.

Kili nodded at his brother's words. "Yeah, just cut to the chase, what does this 'new member' go by?"

"Well, if I am correct, her-"

An uproar of 'her?' and 'what is he on about's erupted from the dwarves, all of them waving their weapons mockingly, before Thorin raised a hand to silence them.

"You're trying to sabotage us." "Thorin-" "A woman? Really?" Gandalf's gaze averted to the fortress, listening intently of any sign of destruction, as Thorin continued ranting angrily.

"Women do not fight, they are more accustomed to sewing needles than they are swords, why would you- what in Mahal's name are you looking at?" The dwarf king turned, as did the rest of the company, to see the orc fortress burst into flames.

Fire covered the entire structure, but even in the blazing embers and smoke they could see a figure walking towards them.

"Who is that?" Oin asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the person walking.

Gandalf smirked a knowing smile as he watched the dwarves' awe.

"That, Master Oin, is the newest member of the company. I would like you to meet (Y/N) (L/N)."

Everybody watched in pure shock as (Y/N) walked towards them, twirling a bat in her hand as if it weighed nothing, a sinister laugh falling from her lips.

"H-Her?" Bilbo asked, the hobbit clearly rather intimidated by this strange human, to which Gandalf sent him a comforting smile.

Finally, she stopped in front of them, blowing a large pink bubble with her gum before popping it with her teeth and chewing it, mouth open in a wide grin.

"Her." She said, leaning on her bat as if it were an arm rest. Mahal, this journey just got a lot more interesting.

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SORRY THIS IS ALSO SUPER OVERDUE AHH

#the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #the company x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader

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ragingbookdragon · 11 months

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Beauty and The Beast Walker

Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word Count: 4.5K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Yeah...I'm gonna make a new story :)

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Up above the great hills of Evendim, Emyn Uial as the elves called it in Sindarin, farther northeast of the Blue Mountains, was a decent sized city filled with humans. Given its name from the harsh winter and the considerable number of tombstones, Wintergrave had made a mark on the map after surviving through the centuries on pure spite and resilience of the men and women forged by the frigid cold that came down from the mountains above. The people of Wintergrave were tough, hardy, driven to survive in a land set out to kill all life below. Yet, they managed, and from the first settlement, a city had built itself.

It wasn’t exactly a holiday destination, only those wishing to test their strength in hunting or trade with the elves of Grey Haven or the humans of Bree, as their trade routes had extended that far north, but it was a location filled with timber, ore, and quarries. Elves, men, and hobbits alike sent word to Wintergrave when it came to wanting supplies. The marble quarries surrounding the city were desired by elves to make floors, walls, and statues with. The timber and ore built houses and hobbit holes for the men and halflings. Wintergrave had become a wellspring of richness. And visitors, especially those who had particular talents that helped the citizens of Wintergrave, were paid handsomely.

Which is why when word of the arrival of a blacksmith into Wintergrave had spread, a dwarven blacksmith at that, the entire town was readying every blade, every axe, every kitchen knife they had to be sharpened, others readying orders to be made. Word spread like wildfire about the onyx haired dwarf who struck a hammer with the fury of a dragon and took all the orders given, charging a rather expensive price, but given the results from the blades and armor he’d shown, it was worth it.

He'd taken up residence in one of the cabins farthest from the town, away from prying eyes, and only came into town to deliver orders or buy food. Hardly ever did he step foot where many of the city were, even to the bar. He never came to the tavern, and that’s what most people who weren’t coming for building materials came for. Only The Snow Veiled Barrow had a wine made from Bleakberries, a fruit only grown in the harsh ground of the frozen wasteland. Though dwarves were fonder of ale, alcohol was alcohol, and it bothered her quite a lot that the blacksmith had not once set foot in her tavern whether it to be eat a hot meal or enjoy a drink in solace.

She had, of course, taken it upon herself to at least make it known to the dwarf that he was welcome to come inside whenever he wished. That being said, going outside the city gates into the wilderness where the wolves and much worse beasts ran wild wasn’t exactly her favorite pastime—not that she couldn’t handle herself, she just preferred to have others hunt for the meat she used for meals.

It was well past sundown when she finally made it to the cabin he resided in, a small place, quaint even for a human but perfect for a man his size. The windows and door frame had been replaced as well as the glass panes, no doubt he’d secured his place of residence before getting to work.

Careful not to drop the bundle of fresh bread and cured meats in her hands, she kicked the door a couple times, calling out, “Blacksmith! If you are home, I wish to speak. I mean no ill will.” to ease him of grabbing a sword or axe.

Heavy footfalls echoed from inside and the locks flicked from behind before the door swung open to reveal the less than pleased dwarf; he merely glared at her, evidently not wishing to be bothered. “I do not take requests at this hour. Come back tomorrow.”

As he started to close the door, she stuck the toe of her boot in between the frame and halted it. “I’m not here for a request. Believe me, if I wanted a weapon, you’d have made it by now.”

“What do you want?”

“Well for starters, it’s freezing out here. Perhaps invite a lady inside for a moment?”

“You? A human woman enter a dwarf’s home? I can hear the hysteria and accusations rolling in now.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve an awfully cynical mindset, Blacksmith. I’m only here to deliver something to eat.”

At that, he opened the door and cocked a brow. “Why?” it was suspicious, and then his voice turned almost accusatory. “Do you not think I’m capable of feeding myself?”

“Distrustful as well,” she muttered, and held out the bundle. “You’ve not once stepped foot into the tavern in town. While I find it understandable that you do not wish to engage with Men, I do find it rather odd you’ve never come in for a drink.”

“So, you think dwarves are drunks?”

“Have you ever perhaps tried not reading so deeply into things that aren’t there? We live in the ass of Middle Earth. The nights are long and freezing. Liquor warms.” She waited until he took the bundle. “All I’ve come to do is deliver this and offer a seat whenever you wish. If you decide not to, I won’t be upset. But know I am someone you can trust.”

As she parted from the door, he called out, “Why should I trust you?”

“I own the tavern, Blacksmith,” she replied, putting up her hood. “I know everyone and everything that happens in this city. My knowledge, and friendship, is unassailable.”

He watched with narrowed eyes as she disappeared into the whipping snow back along the road.

***

He felt eyes on his back, knew someone was waiting to talk to him, but they were going to wait an awful long time. Steel had to be tempered in order to be forged into something great. It was only after the hair had risen along the back of his neck that he finally put the hammer down and looked behind him. A scowl came over his face as he saw her sitting in the chair beside the door.

“Blacksmith,” she greeted. “So glad you finally decided to notice me.”

“Apologies for the wait,” he practically sneered, and she merely waved him off.

“Oh, I’m not upset. Patience is a flower that grows in few gardens and believe me, the garden I have sowed is quite prosperous.” She crossed a leg over the other. “You’ve still yet to come into the tavern. Are you avoiding me, Blacksmith? That hurts. Most men wouldn’t dare avoid someone as beautiful as me.”

Her tone dripped with flirtation, but he was in no mood to play, even if what she said was true—she was absolutely beautiful, a goddess in flesh. “I’ve work to do. Unless it’s to request an order, I suggest you leave.” He pushed a lock of hair back, wiping the sweat from his brow, and looked at her, taking in the smirk, narrowed gaze, and— “You’re joking?”

She rose from her seat, tutting, “Blacksmith, please, I would never joke about money.” Pulling a hefty sack of gold from behind, she held it up. “I want you to make me a dagger. A very pretty, and useful dagger.” Pulling another, much smaller bag from behind, she handed it to him. “With these inlaid in the hilt.”

He opened the sack, wide-eying the sapphires, rubies, and emeralds in the velvet bag. “How…?”

“As I said, it pays to be my friend.”

“So, you’re buying me off?”

“In easier ways. Dwarves are honor bound, are they not? Also, it’s a rather heavy bag of gold. Enough to give leave of a few jobs if you wished.”

He glared at her, obviously weighing it on his mind before he sighed through his nose. “Fine. I’ll make your dagger.”

Her smile irritated him to no end, and she handed over the sack. “Wonderful. When can I expect my weapon?”

“Depends on the intricates of the hilt. A week. Two weeks. The month’s end.”

“Ah, so expect the unexpected?” she nodded knowingly. “Such a game I despise playing. As much as I’d love to stand around and chat, I’m afraid I must return to work.” As she walked off, she paused and turned, pointing around. “And do open a window. It’s stuffy in here. Like I’m underground.”

***

It was actually a month and a half before the dagger was finally done, and it was too much of a surprise when he stepped inside the crowded tavern. She didn’t even realize until she’d turned, put a tankard down, and jumped a foot in the air at seeing him at the bar.

She put a hand to her chest. “Give a woman a heart attack why don’t you, Blacksmith?”

He ignored her, putting the cloth on the bar. “It is done.” Undoing the ties, he flipped open the cloth and there lay a shining steel dagger, golden hilt with gemstones arranged in a delicate pattern.

Picking it up, she smoothed her hand along the blade, flipping it over as she felt the weight in her hand. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, eyes glimmering with something more than desire.

“Sharp too,” he bit out, already tired of the stares.

“Enough to kill a man?” she asked, eyes dropping to his gaze, and he stared back at her.

“As many as you wished.”

Her smile was bewitching, and she tipped her head to the end of the bar. “Sit. I have something in return.”

“You’ve alrea—”

“I said sit,” she commanded in a tone that had indignation rising on his face, yet he huffed and took a seat.

She disappeared behind the wall and came back minutes later with a bottle. A very aged bottle. “This,” she said, placing a goblet before him. “Is something I think you will enjoy quite a lot. I picked it up from a trader a few years ago.”

He watched as she uncorked the bottle and poured a dark, amber liquid into the goblet. “What is it?” he asked, picking it up to smell it. Notes of buttery caramel, oak, and pepper wafted up his nose and he closed his eyes, enjoying it.

“Whiskey. From the halls of the ancient dwarven kingdom Erebor.” His eyes opened and he stared at her, disbelief in them as he looked down at it. “Go ahead. Try it.”

Seeing his reflection in the goblet staring back at him, he lifted it to his mouth, taking a small sip. Something flickered in his gaze as he pulled the cup away and muttered, “It’s not of Erebor.”

She scowled. “It better be, I paid quite a sum for that.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t get stiffed on deals. It’s real.”

“No, it is not. I am telling you it is not.” His tone had grown from calm to anger.

“I doubt you would know of what liquor comes from Erebor.”

The scratching of a chair on hardwood garnered the attention of all the tavern folk as they watched the scene unravel before them, the dwarf, standing, hands on the bar as he growled darkly at her, “I know what comes from the halls of Erebor, human. Do not speak of things you know nothing about. You have no right.”

She was silent as he disappeared from the tavern, slamming the door shut behind him. Humming, she picked up the split goblet and began cleaning it, turning to the others still staring with, “What are you lot staring at? Mind your own.” They went back to their drinks and food whilst she silently made note to visit the old historian.

***

“Master Bjolling?” she called out as she stepped inside the old man’s home. “Master Bjolling where are you?” she walked around the counter, down the steps and into the grand library the bookkeeper had. “Master Bjolling,” she sighed fondly, catching sight of the old man huddled over a desk.

He popped up, turning around to see her, blinking behind the large lenses he wore. “My word, is that you, my lady?”

She smiled. “Good evening, Master Bjolling. How well you fare?”

His smile was covered by his bushy mustache, but he greeted her with kindness and joy. “Wonderful! It’s quite a joy to see you! Shall I put on some tea this evening? Maybe some sweets and pudding?”

“As much as I would love to, I need you to look up something for me. Would you mind?”

“For my lady? I would charge into the flames of Utumno for her.”

“You flatter me,” she smiled.

“Now,” he said, cracking his fingers, pulling at the long tunic he wore. “What knowledge do you seek?”

She took a seat in the cushioned armchair, crossing a leg over the other as she laced her fingers on her stomach. “Knowledge on the dwarves.”

“There are many clans across the land. Which do you wish knowledge of?”

“The dwarves residing in the Blue Mountains southwest of us, what kingdom do they originally hail from?”

Bjolling frowned as he fiddled around a shelf pulling out a leather-bound booklet. “If I do recall,” he started, reading through the journal. “My predecessors wrote their arrival down. Ah, here we are. Erebor,” he said.

“Tell me of Erebor.”

Bjolling hummed curiously as he started walking around, going from section to section, staring up and down at the numbers. “This doesn’t have to do with that dwarven blacksmith fellow shouting at you in the bar last weekend, does it not?”

“It might,” she answered. The old man deserved at least half the truth. “I’m simply curious about the land is all.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer as he stopped in front of a particular shelf and looked up. “What information on Erebor do you seek?”

“Do you have anything on the royal family of Erebor?”

“Hmmm…perhaps? Dwarves aren’t exactly notorious for being open on history.” He dragged a large, ceiling length ladder down the line and climbed it, pulling books from the shelves, flipping through them before he found one that seemed to call to him. A large book, bound with blue leather. Bjolling pulled it out and climbed down, setting it on the table.

As she rounded the end, he flipped it open and started reading to her. She listened to him tell of the tale of how Erebor came to be, blessed by the Sons of Durin, a prosperous city under a mountain rich and powerful.

“—all changed, of course, with the arrival of Smaug, a fire drake from the North. He ransa—”

“Stop,” she interrupted, and he looked up over the rim of his glasses.

“My lady?”

“Who was the king during this time?”

Bjolling eyed her curiously before flipping back quite a few pages. “Let us see, I do believe it was Thrór.”

“Did he have any children?”

“His only son was Thráin.”

She frowned. “No, too old.”

“My lady, what are you looking for?”

She sat down on the seat beside him. “I’ve reason to believe our resident blacksmith is from Erebor.” Propping her hand against the side of her head, she asked, “Who were his children?”

“Thráin’s?” he flipped another few pages. “Records state he had three, Thorin, Frerin, Dís.” Bjolling looked at her. “My lady, might I ask what you intend to do with this information?” his expression turned solemn. “Please don’t tell me your idea is to extort this man? If he is of Erebor, he has nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, the hills of the Blue Mountains are filled with riches.” To ease his mind, she added, “But to give you peace, my intentions are not to extort him for a thing.” She rose from the seat. “Thank you, Master Bjolling. Your help is always appreciated.”

He smiled as she bent down and kissed his head. “For my lady, I happily assist.”

***

By the time he made it back to his cabin, he was practically dead on his feet, only wishing to fall into his bed and sleep until the sun rose the next day. As he unlocked the door, he took note of the fire blazing in the hearth, filling him with caution and warning as he pulled out his blade and entered carefully. He saw nothing at first, looking all around the room for any signs of thievery or attack, yet none showed. He began to put his blade away when—

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. The rightful King Under the Mountain.”

He jumped, spinning around to point the blade at the woman in the corner of the room, watching him with a hidden gaze; he glowered at her. “How did you get in here?”

“I have many skills, your majesty. Picking a lock is just one of many,” she replied. “I have questions for you.”

“I’m in no mood to answer a single one. Get out.” When she didn’t move, he leveled the sword on her and threatened again, “Get. Out.”

She merely looked at the point of the blade then to him. “Put your sword away dwarf before you start a fight you will never walk away from. No matter your age and experience, I will finish what you start.”

He twirled the sword in his grip and retorted, “I would like to see you try, woman.”

She stood up before him and for once in his life besides the terror of Erebor’s fall, Thorin Oakenshield was terrified as she bared her teeth, canines growing into inch-long fangs, and the walls shook with force equal to a hurricane as a guttural growl escaped her throat. He took a step back, sword faltering, and she closed her mouth, head tipping up.

“My family has long protected this land, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. Do not assume that my strength is limited to that of my body. Challenge me again and it will be your last.”

He stared at her. “What…are you?”

“The correct term far east would be skin-changers. Here we are called beast-walkers.” She sat back down. “My family line was infected with a disease that turned us into great beasts, giant two-legged wolves. Over the centuries, my family’s blood has changed and instead of our turnings being random, we can control it.” Her eyes turned to the moon outside. “There is, of course, still a desire to run wild under the moonlight.”

“Why reveal this to me?” he asked.

“Well, before you intended to get your throat ripped out, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. I came to apologize to you.”

He cocked a brow. “You can stop calling me that. Thorin, is acceptable.”

“Thorin,” she corrected.

Dropping the sword on the table, he looked at her. “Why do you wish to apologize to me?”

“I insulted you the other week. Of course, part of the blame arises from you refusing to disclose who you are, but I let arrogance get the better of me.” She met his gaze. “I apologize. You, in fact, know better than any what comes of Erebor.”

Thorin made a noise in his throat, and he sat down on a chair across from her. “The less who know of my name, the safer it is to work and travel.”

“Understandable,” she agreed. “There’d be quite a ransom note sent to Ered Luin for the return of the rightful King Under the Mountain.” Her eyes found the snow again outside. “I don’t envy you, Thorin. It must be a heavy mantle to wear.”

“I wear it with pride,” he retorted, and she snorted.

“Spoken like a true dwarf.” They fell silent, watching the snow fall in peacefulness.

Uncharacteristically, Thorin admitted quietly, “I’m leaving here soon. At the end of the month.” He bother to look over at her, even when he felt the weight of her surprised gaze on him. “I’m starting a company. To retake Erebor from that damned serpent. To restore my home.”

Her lips pursed in a look of hidden surprise. “Truly? Even the dwarven kingdom at its height couldn’t even stop him. What makes you think you can?”

He looked over at her. “I feel it.”

“You feel it?” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Gods help your company, feeling isn’t reliable.”

“You wouldn’t understand, human.”

“Perhaps not. I’ve never left Wintergrave to fight a dragon that could eat me in one bite.” She hummed. “I have done crazier things though.” Her eyes found his. “This company, I assume it will be comprised of warriors?”

“Indeed.”

“Would you like help?” she offered, and he cocked a suspicious brow.

“What are you after?”

“I assume unless I tell you, I’ll never be able to join?” his silence was her answer and she sighed. “Wintergrave is ancient. Its people are old. The young ones venture out east to the warmer lands for a better life. This city will never die, but at some point, you have to know when to let go and move on. It is time for me to move on.”

“I thought your family has protected this land? Are you going to ignore your duty?” he practically accused her of derelict duty.

“You assume I am the only beast-walker here. Others will keep the fire going. I wish to move on. If I’m to die, it won’t be pouring drinks to drunkards. I’ll die for something.” She held out her hand, waiting until he cautiously held his out the same; she took it, and he was surprised how warm she was, almost burning like fire. “Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, if you would will it, I will join you on this quest for Erebor. My strength and expertise are yours.”

He gazed at her. “You would do this for someone you don’t know? Without wanting reward?”

“Well, if we do manage to retake Erebor, I’d certainly enjoy being able to run a tavern somewhere in there. I am quite good at it, if you recall.”

Thorin chuckled, shaking her hand. “I will see what I can do once we reestablish Erebor.”

She smiled at him, pulling her hand away to rise from her seat. “I shall make preparations for my leave. I doubt I will ever make a journey back to Wintergrave in the future. It will be imperative to find a suitable family to take over my tavern. And to gather my belongings needed to take.”

“Have a lot?”

She shrugged. “Not so much material that is important. I have quite a mass of gold built up over the generations. I’ll have to prepare it for travel to the Blue Mountains.”

“Why?”

“What good is a mountain of gold if it’s not used for the better of something? You live in a cabin with little. It’s not difficult to understand that you send the majority of your sums back to your people.”

“You would give my people your gold?”

“Not all of it. A woman has to have something to live off of.”

Thorin rose. “You honor me and my people in the Blue Mountains.”

She tipped her head. “I will take my leave for the evening.” As she walked off, she turned, meeting his eyes. “Thorin…”

As she trailed off, he cocked a brow. “Yes?”

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “Good eve.”

The door closed behind her and Thorin listened as an otherworldly sound echoed from behind the door, then a blood-chilling howl shook the walls; he turned to the desk, pulling a piece of parchment out to begin writing out the call for his company.

***

The city had practically sent the two off with more food, supplies, and gold than the two could do with. Still though, Thorin couldn’t say he was displeased with it. His companion hadn’t said much since they’d left, and he couldn’t help but watch her when he had the chance to. She looked ready, willing, for anything. What was so different was her garb. No longer dressed in the floor length dresses she typically wore, but a set of darkened leather armor, silver designs sewn into the side as well as silver buckles. Her back was held set with a wooden bow and at her side, the dagger that Thorin had forged for her along with a silver long sword—that, he recognized as elvish, and he fought the urge to sneer and scowl at it. Her face was covered with a mask, cut off just above her mouth, silver faceplate in the make of a wolf—he found she had quite a fondness for silver.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable as they travelled, and he felt comfort growing in him at having her at his side. Which was odd because Thorin didn’t trust anyone he’d never fought with. If he couldn’t trust them to cover his back in battle, how would he know they wouldn’t stab him in the back.

“You’re thinking awfully loud, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

He rolled his eyes, griping, “I thought I’d said to stop that.”

“You did, but I find it annoys you and amuses me, so I shall continue.” She looked down at him. “What are you thinking about?” he opened his mouth and she added quickly, “And no need to hide it. We’re going to be together for a while. If we can’t be honest, we won’t work together.”

He ignored the urge to roll his eyes again but conceded. “I find it difficult to trust you since we’ve not seen battle together.”

“We will,” she replied, staring straight out to the road. “Your worst trust should be that I won’t eat you.” She accentuated her point by flashing her teeth with a grin. “I already gave you my word, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. Find it in yourself to trust me already.”

“Why should I take your word seriously?”

She pulled the reins and halted her steed, Thorin following in suit; she stared him down and said, “Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, at the end of the day, all a man has is his word. His word is his hope, his truth, his livelihood, his honor. I do not have a title to hold my honor to, but I have generations of protecting my home and doing what is right no matter how difficult to hold it.” She took the reins again. “My word is my honor, just as your word is yours. If you keep your word that you will protect me, then I shall keep mine and protect you. Nothing less.”

Thorin grunted, falling back in to suit beside her. “Apologies.”

“Save those for something serious,” she replied. “We’ve a long road ahead of us.” Looking at him, she asked, “Where is our first stop?”

“The Blue Mountains.” He gazed into the distance. “To collect some old friends.”

#thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader imagines #thorin oakenshield imagines #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin oakenshield #thorin x reader imagines #thorin x reader imagine #thorin x reader #thorin imagines #thorin imagine #thorin #hobbit #the hobbit #lord of the rings #lotr

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ryuichirou · 5 months

Note

About the "Sluttiest Tier List" ... What about Vargas, Crowley, Sam, Rollo, Fellow and Gidel?

Hoo boy let’s line these guys up next to a wall and judge their levels of slutness…

We haven’t seen the Fellow+Gidel event, so I can’t say anything about them. As for Vargas and Crowley, I’ll rate them, but it’ll be a bit difficult, because I just realised that I don’t imagine them as sexual beings at all for some reason. Especially Vargas, I guess in my head he is so focused on muscles and eggs that he doesn’t even care about anything horny… huh. What a wholesome man. But you know, scratch that, let’s imagine that he isn’t wholesome.

And Crowley, well, he definitely isn’t wholesome, he’s just the case of “do you really want to imagine him having sex”, and you know, it doesn’t matter because I’ll force you to.

I’ll also add Neige and Che’nya here as a bonus <3

Vargas

Promiscuity: 1; Flirtiness: 3; Sex-drive: 3; Kinkiness: 2

Total: 8

I feel like Vargas isn’t really open to the idea of sleeping with several partners, but he still might cheat. Or maaaaybe he would just consider sex to be a part of training, and in that case he we can bump his promiscuity meters to 5, because the more the merrier lol

He doesn’t think much about kinks, but there are certain preferences that just… naturally occur in him.

Crowley

Promiscuity: 3; Flirtiness: 1; Sex-drive: 3; Kinkiness: 5

Total: 12

I just think Crowley being super kinky is way too funny of a concept lol We don’t know this man’s secrets. And his secrets are that he is kinky, horny (whether he gets to have sex or not is a whole other story) and he could get in a flirty mood, but he is so bad at it so we can’t put him any higher than a 1.

Sam

Promiscuity: 3; Flirtiness: 4; Sex-drive: 2; Kinkiness: 2

Total: 11

Sam wouldn’t tie himself to just one person, I feel like he would consider it a waste. He is also quite a flirt when he is in a good mood. He is a charmer after all, and he loves enchanting people. But at the same time, I feel like he is not as into sex as he could be. Alluring others is more fun than having sex with them, I guess. Which doesn’t mean that Sam doesn’t have a kink or two…

Rollo

Promiscuity: 0; Flirtiness: 0; Sex-drive: 3; Kinkiness: 4

Total: 7

Aw look at you, Rollo, you were so close to being an absolute a perfect prude, but alas, deep inside that pious and righteous façade hides a masochistic boy hungry for attention. 😔 Sing a song about it.

Neige

Promiscuity: 0; Flirtiness: 1; Sex-drive: 2; Kinkiness: 2

Total: 5

Neige is that one celebrity that people would hate to even consider having sex with someone. Neige has to stay pure! Neige CAN’T HAVE SEX! (Although there definitely are horny Neige fans out there…)

In reality, Neige really is quite innocent, but he isn’t completely uninterested in sex. And since he can’t really express his natural desires in any way, and doesn’t really have anyone to talk about these things with (speaking to dwarves feels weird somehow…), whatever he suppresses just leads to him getting weird and very specific kinks. Neige doesn’t know how it works, but oh well!

Che’nya

Promiscuity: 5; Flirtiness: 5; Sex-drive: 5; Kinkiness: 5

Total: 20

Oh god, really? Do we have another one of those?

Che’nya does anything he wants whenever he wants, and even though he isn’t as aggressive in his advances as the Tweels, he is still quite horny. And when it comes to kinks, his are somewhat weird… sometimes it’s things that people wouldn’t even consider a kink, but he surely gets aroused by those. He probably does a lot of pervy stuff and uses his invisibility powers quite regularly lol

Well, we ended on a bit of a cursed note. Didn’t expect Che’nya to also get a 20, but this is the world we live in….

#replies #headcanons

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feathered-serpents · 1 year

Note

Also the wedding has great potential for some Atreus Sindri reconciliation, if they haven't made up already by this point 👀

Its been awhile since the Atreboda wedding discussions but that’s because of how long I spent answering this ask

It does!

I have a lot of ideas for how Atreus and Sindri reconcile, but the common denominator in them all is that Atreus has to instigate. I think Sindri becomes trapped in his grief, he can’t really break out on his own

I’m now imaging a very ridiculous quest or DLC that’s “Atreus tracks Sindri through realm after realm just to invite him to his wedding” and it’s just as perilous as any other quest in the game except the end goal is literally just to get an invitation to Sindri. The thing is Atreus is unhinged enough to do that.

Oh no I lost control of my body and accidentally wrote 1552 words about this. Whoops. Enjoy.

____

When Atreus first finds his new forge, he sees the rust. The scraps of blades and armor carelessly thrown about. The place is quiet and black. The only sign of life an echo of a hammer and a glow, far into the forge.

That’s where Atreus finds Sindri, over this “forge.” Facing away from him. Hammering something molten into a point. The blackness and the glow made him no more than a dark shape.

“What do you want?” Sindri spits with a voice made of venom and smoke.

Atreus did not answer right away. Instead, he became- distracted. By a forgotten fascination in watching the dwarves forge. He’d used to do it as a boy, while his father bickered with one, the other would work and Atreus got lost in the rhythm of it. The steady, sure swing of the hammer, the clang of it in the molten metal, the sparks that flew free. After one hammer swing, nothing about the molten blob below it would look different, but by the twelfth, there’d be the suggestion of a breastplate, by the hundredth it would be there truly, and already better than any human smith could hope for, and by the thousandth, it would be perfect. Beyond perfect. Dwarven perfect. It would all be done in a day.

At this moment, the thing Sindri hammered had no true shape, and there is enough of a glint off the hammer that he can see the head had been rounded and worn to the handle.

“Here to waste space?” Sindri picks up the half-pointed molten thing with his bare and blistering hands, dunking it into a basin of water Atreus hadn’t noticed until now. The chamber fills with boiling steam and his eyes water.

Atreus had wanted to say something else before this remark. Greet Sindri. Tell him he'd missed him. Tell him he was sorry, but he didn't. He just blurted out his reason for being there, when he couldn't think of a way to say anything else:

“I’m getting married.”

The hammer stopped.

Sindri froze. The way people do when they've just been told something confidently when the thing itself makes no sense at all.

“Married…?”

He turned around then, quickly, and Atreus finally saw his face. Patched red, skin flaking from the heat of a constant forge. Soot had sunk into every line of his face, like ink, giving him a look like a living etching, Line and color brought together to suggest a man where there was none.

But his eyes were there.

They had landed in the perfect center of Atreus’ chest. and they’d landed there with intent. Once they’d settled they filled with shock. Then confusion. Sindri’s eyes flicked frantically around in the dark. Lost. A panic in them Atreus didn’t know the name for. Finally, Sindri looked up, and he found his face.

For the first time in ten years, Atreus looked Sindri in the eye, and he saw his friend. There and pure and alive in front of him.

His friend saw him for just a moment before he flickered away and a dark, hardened thing took his place.

"No," said Sindri.

"Sindri-"

"Whatever you want-" Something caught in his throat. He coughed. Then rasped out the rest. "It's gone. I lost it."

I lost it. Atreus thought of the thing on the anvil. Of the things scattered around this half-tamed forge.

"I..." He tried to keep his eyes on Sindri but Sindri wouldn't hold his gaze. He'd stare off behind him, or at his feet, or over his head. Anywhere but his face. "I don't want anything."

"I don't believe you." Atreus felt the venom in Sindri's voice in his veins. "You think anything's changed? You think I've spent one moment missing you-" This time the cough choked him. Sindri cleared his throat violently, he spits something black and wet at Atreus' feet.

"Whatever you want, my answer is no."

The steam of the water no longer boiled the air, but Atreus' eyes still watered.

"I want-" He bit his tongue. "I'd like... you to be at my wedding."

Sindri met his eyes for another brief, rare moment. The shock was back but... not the same kind of shock as when he'd first looked at him. This shock was- softer. One blink away from pride. And like his eyes before it flickered away to be replaced by the hard thing.

“Why?”

Atreus only shrugged. “I just want you there.”

Sindri turned his back to him then. Turned to the thing on the anvil now too cooled to effectively forge any further. Perhaps that is why he did not pick up his stump of a hammer again. Perhaps that is why he did not do anything but stand and stare into the embers.

“What have they been calling you?” Sindri said. “Lord of Tricksters? God of Mischief? They don’t know you, Loki. You’re just fucking stupid.”

Atreus nodded in unseen agreement.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something large and smooth. Anyone would've thought it a polished amber stone, but not Sindri. Atreus placed the seed on a low stone table, covered in tools just as worn as the hammer. It glowed there. Taking the burning light from the forge and turning it gentle. He'd hoped Sindri might turn around one more time when he heard the gentle knock of seed on stone, but he didn't. Sindri had faced him for as long as he could stand.

“You can use this to find us," Atreus said. He thought about saying what he'd wanted to at the start. The apologies. The declarations. He heard them in his head and felt them on his tongue.

He let the impulse pass. “Thanks for letting me see you, Sin," he said. And he left

And as Atreus walked back out into the open air, somewhere behind him a hammer started again.

____

Atreus did not see Sindri at the wedding.

He tried not to feel the grief that gave him, and if he were honest, it wasn't hard. Not today at least. Today was for him.

For him as much as it was for Ironwood. For his friends. His family. His father. It was a day for Giants as well as Gods. A day for a world without Odin and before it all, it was a day for Angrboda.

He would mourn what needed mourning tomorrow. Today was for her.

It was a long day, but they'd been warned it would be. Thus was the danger of a wedding where the guests only slept when they chose to.

"I saw a godly wedding last a month once," Mimir had told them. "With a little luck, I'd say we get yours done in three days."

They don't think it lasted three days, but by the time they managed to escape their wedding night had solidly transformed into a wedding dawn, and still, they languished on their way. They raced each other aimlessly through the Ironwood like the day they met.

Angrboda had learned to change her shape not long ago and she changed into a fox to match his wolf, hiding in the brush for him to sniff her out. When he found her she ran and made Atreus chase her through the fireflies and the ferns and the forest until she became a woman again and let him catch her.

When they did make it back, it was truly morning. The light clear and gold on the roof of their painted home.

They found it there.

They nearly didn't find it. It blended so well against the wood of the table Angrboda used to mix all her powders and paints together. The dark wooden box was placed perfectly between all her colors and they found it.

It was heavy- not heavy- but heavier than Atreus expected for something that barely filled his palm. He had some trouble opening it as the lid had no hinge, it simply held on by how perfectly it fit the box. Atreus would find the brand on its underside in a day.

Inside were rings.

The rings were not extravagant. There were no heavy-colored stones, no engravings, no strange shapes. The rings were just two smooth nearly identical bands of amber.

When they looked more closely, they could see hints of shining color inside. One ring has thin veins of a bright blue inside, following the natural roads of the patterns in the stone. That ring fit Angrboda, more perfectly than any ring could.

The other carried flecks of gold inside. Dozens of them. Beautifully small. Suspended in the band like yellow leaves in the wind. That one fit him.

The bands held no great magic. They would not make more of themselves again and again and again or turn into some great killing weapon. The rings simply felt like home, and they had been made for them.

And Atreus finds nothing to mourn today.

#God of War #god of war: ragnarok #god of war ragnarok #atreboda #sorry this took so long i went insane

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blairsanne · 1 year

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Reunion at Bag End

A TSS gift for @coconi for Tolkien Secret Santa 2022 @officialtolkiensecretsanta! Happy Holidays @coconi!

The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings (slight AU) 1443 words

Summary: Bilbo is anxious as he awaits Thorin and the Company's arrival at Bag End. Everyone lives AU, cozy fluff.

Bilbo stood in his kitchen and stared out the window at the falling snow.

The sun was just starting to set, and the winter wind had been blowing powdery snowflakes across the shire for days, but it was warm and cozy in Bag End. The smell of spices, meat, and pastry filled the room, the pies in the oven nearly ready.

“Bilbo?” a voice called from the other room, but Bilbo didn’t notice, eyes trained on a far hill and thoughts elsewhere until a small hand tapped his forearm.

“Are you alright, uncle? The kettle was whistling.”

Bilbo blinked back to his senses and turned to see Frodo pouring the freshly boiled water into the tea pots Bilbo had prepared on the table.

“Do you think they’ll be much longer?” Bilbo wondered.

Frodo laughed. “Uncle Thorin loses his way, but he must be keen to enjoy the party.”

Thorin had gone out to Erebor for a visit and was meant to be returning with the old Company that had reclaimed the Lonely Mountain together. Even Fili - now the king - was set to be arriving with them for the long overdue visit.

Bilbo had spent the entirety of Thorin’s absence preparing for the dwarves. The pantry was overstocked with cheese and meats, and all manner of breads. The table where they’d eat was already set with plates of cakes and cookies, and the doorways were framed in winter greenery for a sense of festive cheer. It was to be a party to remember. If only the guests of honor would arrive.

Bilbo ruffled Frodo’s dark curls, forcing himself to relax his shoulders as he fetched the tea cozies. “It’s just been so long since I’ve seen most of them. I must admit, I’m a bit impatient.”

His young nephew grinned up at him. “Me too, uncle! I look forward to meeting them.”

More than impatient, Bilbo felt nervous, somehow. It was a lot to ask all of them to come to the Shire. Bilbo and Thorin had traveled out a couple times since Thorin had left Erebor, but now with Frodo, Bilbo had been hesitant to make such a long trek. Still, it had been too long since he’d seen them all. He hoped they’d all been keeping well, and that they’d approve of the hobbit hole now that they were used to living in Erebor surrounded by dwarven finery in metal and stone. He wanted everything to be perfect for his old friends; warm enough, fed enough, entertained enough.

Frodo, who hadn’t lived at Bag End long, had asked both Thorin and Bilbo about the quest heaps of times. He had vivid mental images of each of the dwarves, as well as many of the events that had taken place. He was keen to see if they were at all how he’d imagined. The dwarves were supposedly rowdy and unruly, and fierce warriors. And one of them was the king of Erebor! Thorin and Bilbo didn’t always fit in completely with the other hobbits, but to Frodo, they were far more interesting.

Kili cleared his throat subtly as he stepped up beside Fili. The Shire was now just in view as the sun was beginning to set. The air was growing even cooler now, nipping at their skin as they walked.

“Seems you owe me three gold.”

Fili laughed brightly, the reminder of their earlier bet - that Thorin would get them lost beyond salvation - catching him off guard. “Seems so.”

“I’ll give you the chance to earn it back,” Kili offered, his face pure mischief.

Fili pursed his lips, shaking his head subtly. Kili had actually mellowed out quite a bit in the years since the quest, becoming a fine advisor to Fili. But something about being out on the road again with the company - and especially their uncle - had brought out some of his childhood chaos. “What did you have in mind?”

Kili leaned in and whispered as quietly as he could. “Three gold if you get him in the head before he stops you.” With that, he held a snowball up that he’d been hiding behind his back.

Fili took it and contemplated. Finally he nodded and winked at his brother. They were nearly at Bag End now; a bit of harmless fun wouldn’t sour hours of future travel, and surely Thorin would let it go once he got home to the Bagginses.

Frodo dropped the cookie he’d been stealing from the tray when he heard the front door push open.

“We’re here!” Thorin’s low voice called out into the hall. He smiled when he saw Bilbo and Frodo’s heads poke out of different rooms.

“Just on time,” Bilbo praised, sounding every bit as relieved as he was.

As the dwarves piled in, they greeted Bilbo with warmth, all talking over each other and taking off their packs and cloaks as they let themselves in.

Frodo stepped over to take Thorin’s cloak from him as the space became chaotic. “Welcome home, uncle.” “Thank you, Frodo.”

“Frodo?” Half the group turned their attention from Bilbo to Frodo now, remarking on his appearance, mainly. None of them had ever met such a young hobbit, apparently, slightly shorter than Bilbo, with bright eyes and dark curls.

Bombur clapped a hand down on Bilbo’s shoulder and gave him a stern look.

“Er- Great to have you again, Bombur.” “Let’s get to work.” “I- beg your pardon?” Bombur rustled the pack over his shoulder. “Food to set out.”

“Oh!” Bilbo blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected them to bring anything, but perhaps Thorin had suggested it, given the size of the group. “Of course, the kitchen is just in here, as you may remember-”

Just as Bilbo was leading him away, the door swung open again to reveal Fili and Kili, covered in snow, shaking themselves to loose what might come off.

“You’re late,” Bofur teased. “Right, well-” Kili could barely contain his laughter. “Someone pushed us down the hill, and all.”

This sent a fit of laughter through the group as they recalled Thorin getting his revenge on his nephews for the snowballs, and a surge of warmth through Bilbo’s chest as he took heart in the happiness of his fellows. The brothers laughing about mischief they’d caused just felt right somehow. Some things don’t change.

“Well- clean up and let's go sit, shall we?” Bilbo suggested, making his way with Bombur toward the kitchen.

Thorin led the rest of the Company toward the dining room. “Come on, you mongrels!”

The night progressed easily, everyone happily sharing stories and catching up between mountains of goodies and several musical interludes.

Ori had brought them a book he’d scribed about Erebor and its history, including intricate drawings that enthralled Frodo, who was an endless fount of questions for everyone. He learned - only slightly embellished - accounts of Bilbo’s bravery, Thorin’s leadership, everyone’s skills in battle, and more.

As the hour grew late, Bilbo passed around another plate of nut cakes before settling at Thorin’s side to let out a wistful sigh. “I’d missed this,” he admitted quietly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the group that was milling about Bag End in total comfort and goodwill.

Thorin placed his hand on Bilbo’s thigh and raised a brow. “Oh?”

“It reminds me a bit of those nights on the road.” He scrunched his nose and mouth about briefly. “I was terribly nervous, back then, mind you. Sure we’d get struck down by orcs, or worse, Smaug. But this is nice.” He turned his attention to Thorin. “Like a family reunion.”

“Only without the fear of stolen cutlery,” Thorin pointed out.

Bilbo laughed brightly, distracting Frodo for a moment, who’d been caught up in one of Kili’s tall tales.

Frodo was glad to see his uncle had relaxed. He’d thought Bilbo might actually have lost his marbles a bit in Thorin’s absence, fretting and wringing his hands as he paced around Bag End for days.

“You’re staying a few days, right?” Frodo asked suddenly. Fili nodded. “That’s right. Just a few days, then most of us will return to Erebor.” “I hope you’ll come again soon. Bilbo really missed you.” Fili and Kili glanced at each other. It was difficult to get away like this, but everyone had been keen to the idea the moment word had gotten around.

Fili nodded. “I suppose we’ll have to.”

Kili leaned in, a grin on his face. “Say, Frodo. Have you ever built a snow dragon?”

When the teen shook his head, Kili clapped his hand down on his brother’s shoulder. “I know what we’re doing tomorrow.”

#tss2022 #happy holidays #the hobbit #bagginshield #reshirement #hobbit fluff #hobbit fanfic

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sleepless-rants · 2 months

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hi sleepless.!!!!! I was wondering if you had any theories on surtalogi & vedrfolnir’e identities? since going off etymology , we can only assume they’re from or connected khaneri’ah in some way,, 💜

OK OK heres a not so intellectual brainstorming (key word: BRAINSTORMING. THIS IS PURELY BRAINSTORMING so if you see me say something then contradict it in the same sentence dont be surprised). So about surtalogi

The actual norse mythology surtalogi is a flaming sword surtr used in the ragnarok which he will use to fight the gods and the flame from said sword will eventually burn down the whole world. Which has lead a lot of people to believe he might be dainsleif (yknow since they're both swords) but I personally dont think that that is the case for a few reasons:

1- skirk refers to surtalogi in the same light as rhinedottir, so we can assume he does something like her.

2- in some sources surtalogi is the fire itself not the sword so its kinda hit or miss

3- surtalogi is waist deep in abyssal power which we know dain is not the most fond of.

4: dainsleif and surtalogi are two seperate swords?? so this for me is kinda like saying durin and dvalin are the same because they're both dwarves in norse mythology.

Again I havent deep dived into this theory so let me know if im missing some additional information but I feel like trying to attach him to a pure blood khaenriahn we already know seems kinda easy (yes the "we need more khaenriah characters agenda")

Where I think we should really be looking to try to figure out surtalogi's identity isn't surtalogi itself but surtr. NOW, NOW LET ME COOK.

Surtr was a fire giant who ruled muspelheim (the fire realm in norse mythology) and lead the fire giants in a battle against the gods during ragnorok, eventually ending the world with his fire. Now surtr is also one of the primordial giants.

what do we associate dragons with? Fire. Battle with the gods? Dragon sovereigns. Primordial giants? Again, dragon sovereigns. It seems so perfect except this would be contradicting my own theory of irmin and nibelung being the same since irmin=odin and surtr is way older than odin. Also another thing: hoyo usually likes to name dragons after dwarves in norse mythology. In fact nibelung himself is a dwarf. Would it be symbolism for them to also use a giant for his refrence or would it be disqualifying this possibility?

Also its worth keeping in mind that in mythology, at the end of ragnarok surtr successfully defeated all the gods and burned down the world, which obviously did not happen with the sovereigns.

HOWEVER. the whole theme of burning down the old world to let a new, better world be born from the ashes very much reminds me of fatui shit, and more importantly PYRO ABYSS LECTOR VOICELINES.

So if nothing else we can say for certain that surtalogi is very much khaenri'ahn ideology. Its just very intresting how the character is specifically THE FIRE THAT BURNS THE WORLD not the WEILDER OF IT. maybe he had a hand in the catacalysm? IDK I NEED TO ORGANIZE MY THOUGHTS

Key points to keep in mind: 1) pay attention to surtr not surtalogi 2) surtalogi is the weapon not the culprit

NOW vedrfolnir. We literally only have a name. No i dont mean in genshin in mythology itself as well. There is barely anything. All we know is that vedrfolnir is a hawk who sits between the eyes of an eagle perched on top of yggdrasil (who is also unnamed btw)

One particular thing though is that the translations of the name often have something to do with wind. Immidietly I wanna associate this with istaroth which would kinda make sense since vedrfolnir is on top of yggdrasil (irminsul) and istaroth is the god of time irminsul records all events in time past present AND future since the fruits are irminsul contain people's fates etc etc

But then would hoyo really namedrop a primordial shade in the same sentence with two abyss power abusing sinners? Seems somewhat unlikely even with the sinshades theories+ the timeline doesnt add up+ its like two diffrent lore topics entirely. It doesnt help that theres literally nothing about the eagle either so if I have some scrambles thoughts for surtalogi for vedrfolnir I literally have no idea. But I do think two keypoints (only points i mean) to keep in mind are 1) irminsul association 2) wind themed name

#not really a theory #mostly just me using this ask as an excuse to finally put some of this info down on paper #to hopefully come up with an actual theory once I stare at them for long enough #sleepless ranting #i have 20 fact checking tabs open #save for later elaboration

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nerdishpursuits · 2 years

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Quite frankly this entire mindset around Rings of Power: “it’s not made the way I wanted/expected it to, following the books to a T, so it should be canceled - if I can’t/won’t watch it, no one should, let’s spread the hatred and boycott - there’s but one way to tell this story” is … disappointing. To me, it is.

No adaptation is going to be the way I envisioned. Not a one. Regardless of the company that buys the rights. Someone will always cry “Wolf”. And you know what? That’s alright. If I can enjoy a new take on a favorite series and find joy in the way someone else brings it to life? I will. Or I’ll, quite simply, not watch.

At the end of the day I’ll always have the books and my own imagination for that undiluted, “unspoiled” version. Another interpretation doesn’t bother me. Especially when it’s everything I’d want to see in a story of this caliber: mythical and whimsical, like a much beloved fairytale. With female characters not there for decoration only, held to the stereotypical standards of “women only need to be/do this in order to be palatable, lest they not be women”. Women who are not only mentioned in passing, simple tokens in a 1000+ compendium dedicated to men.

And I’m happy to be free of the gratuitous gore and endless violence of other, much-hyped franchises. Yes, it’s different than canon. Yes, we all rightly hate Amazon. Yes, there’s countless aspects one can be nitpicky about. And so on and so forth. We could sit and complain forever.

But you know what? I’m not going to let sheer hatred ruin my love for this show. I’m not going to get mired in this bottomless pit of complaints. I’m going to focus on what I REALLY enjoy: a young, brash, and quite relatable Galadriel (Cate is ICONIC, but I find Clark’s portrayal just as engaging with glimpses of the enigmatic and formidable Lady of Lorien in the Third Age; and yes, I do love me a fearless, sword-wielding elleth with a rather “swashbuckling youth”). Then there’s charming, witty Disa and the dwarves which I feel are portrayed to perfection. Durin and Elrond are a riot together and their dynamic a joy to watch. Arondir and Halbrand feel like well-established Middle Earth characters to me and I find them a welcome addition. Nori and Poppy are a delight and the Harfoots in general are a source of pure joy. Bronwyn is also a character I’ve quickly grown fond of. And I look forward to seeing what they’ve done with Numenor. Not to mention the exquisite cinematography and fantastic music score.

So, for me? There’s a lot to enjoy. Which is what I plan to do. It’s just sad you can’t go into the tags for this show and not find hate-filled comments clinging to the thread like fungus. Is there nothing that can be enjoyed these days without hateful rhetoric? I just want to stare at pretty pictures, okay?

#rings of power #lotr: the rings of power #don’t fill my inbox with hate messages btw #I’ll never reply #it would be a waste of time #about this blogger trash

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crowtrobotx · 4 months

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Insane BG3-verse Lottie thoughts I have to vomit out somewhere before I go out for the day:

Bri has heard me rant about most of this before but like. Dwarf really is the perfect race for her, not just because I imagine Karl to be one as well (I will keep making him shorter and shorter this is a threat.)

But like. In researching lore and stuff it seems that in addition to the general “smol and cranky and prone to collecting junk” traits that are right up her alley, most dwarves apparently don’t get married in part because they’re so obsessed with their own trades/crafts that they’re just like “who needs a partner?” Completely her vibe tbh. “Sex??? No, sounds messy. There are bombs to build.” (This also makes Karl & Kris’s relationship 10x funnier bc it implies Karl was totally content in his zombie army building until he saw Big Barbarian Lady cleave a guy in half one day and started sweating profusely.)

PLUS. The ratio of dwarf men to dwarf women is really out of whack, depending on what source you read it’s like there’s more than 3 dwarf men for every woman. Which means Lottie would be extra EXTRA special and Karl would be even more insane about her. Like if you thought he made being a girl dad his whole personality before imagine what he’d be like in this AU.

An unfortunate bit of info I’ve run into is that (again, depending on what lore you choose to accept) half dwarves generally end up at a height between their parents’ - so with a human mother and a dwarf father she’d probably end up at just like. 5’0” (which is her canon adult height in normal verses, fun fact!) but she would NOT be about that and would simply stop growing out of spite. 😡 She’s dwarven royalty, she will NOT be tall!

Anyway I thoroughly admit to making lore decisions with my OC’s / their canon relationships purely based on comedic value alone sometimes (life is short and so is Lottie) but this one that makes a little too much sense. She dwarf. She biting ankles.

#I just love her sm I am cursed to be obsessed with my own OC’s for all eternity

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the-typing-dragon · 8 months

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ok but can you seriously imagine the terror a Rathalos would feel upon fighting engineer. it does it's starter roar and engie immediately fires a fat boy nuke directly into it's mouth (dwarves are EXTREMELY used to doing headshots to hit weakpoints). it starts to run and Engie platforms the escape hole. No escape. it spits a fireball and the dwarf fucking shoots it out of the air. all the while these two small turrets are sapping it's life with perfect accuracy. shredders are flying around the poor beast taking chunks out of it. Engie's lok-1 is causing constant explosions all across it's hide. this onslaught does not end until the Rathalos has entirely stopped moving. any monster hunters looking on would be absolutely terrified by the display of pure force

#the dragon types #deep rock galactic #monster hunter

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nelyoslegalteam · 1 year

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Assigning Each Son Of Feanor A Grand Relic From The Adventure Zone: Balance Because There’s Seven Of Each Of Them And Also I Do Not Want To Be In This Work Meeting Right Now

Maedhros - The Bulwark Staff. The Relic of abjuration, the school of protection magic. Created out of pure, fierce determination to protect one’s family, the Bulwark Staff allows its wielder to cast powerful spells of shielding. Perfect for the consummate older brother whose entire thing is very much about holding the line (see: all of the emotions I have about Himring as a concept), and also the parallels between Maedhros and Lucretia are so much. They’re both such Bright Clear Line people, taking it all on themselves to see the mission out and stand in the way of the existential horror threatening everyone, and the worst things they do are driven by such a genuine desire to do what they feel they must for the people they care about the most. (For those familiar with both, does it surprise anyone that I love Lucretia so much also?)

Maglor - The Temporal Chalice. The Relic of divination, allowing its wielder control over the flow of time, it sways and corrupts with a promise: You will have the power to undo your greatest mistake. Heavily associated with decisions and regrets, it would be quite wonderfully reflective of Maglor, whose awareness of how wrong his actions are, clear regret of them, and yet simultaneous inability not to continue down the path decided for him is what makes him most compelling.

Celegorm - The Gaia Sash. Okay this one is low-hanging fruit, but it fits so extremely well. The Relic of conjuration, the Gaia Sash gives one the ability to create, control, and communicate with nature. Celegorm deserves godlike plant-bending abilities. As a treat. Let him have this. I also definitely have feelings about Merle being this wonderfully irreverent cleric, specially chosen by the God Of Nature across every universe, and Celegorm’s whole deal as a chosen/paladin of Orome.

Caranthir - The Phoenix Fire Gauntlet. Powers-wise, the Relic of evocation is the most straightforward of the seven, and I feel like that fits Caranthir very well. Lup is associated with fire on a literal level, yes, but also because she’s warm, she’s the connection point for the whole group, and I can see this on Caranthir too, being the one to befriend the dwarves and the humans and to establish this empire of connections everywhere, and Lup’s bright, fierce protective rage is such a good interpretive filter for Caranthir’s fiery temper. Also, the imagery of the Gauntlet burning everything around it down into a perfect circle of black glass just fucks severely on him.

Curufin - The Oculus. Curufin needs to be associated with the Relic whose ability involves summoning illusions so powerful that its wielder can make them reality, because he is a smith and a creator and this aspect is very fitting for him. Curufin also needs to be associated with the Relic of illusion for thematic being a pale imitation of Feanor reasons. Curufin also needs to be associated with Davenport, the character who loses his entire sense of self with the mission because his entire sense of self IS the mission, even if these things happen in extremely different ways.

Amrod - The Animus Bell. The Relic of necromancy, capable of tearing a soul from its body. Thematically perfect and wonderfully dark for the character called the Fated, and as I am a crispy Amrod truther at heart, the associations with violent, abrupt, unfair, being quite literally torn away by death, are in fact very necessary.

Amras - The Philosopher’s Stone. The Relic of transmutation, capable of turning anything into anything else. It’s nothing if not a metaphor for the way that Taako masks, tries to mold himself in wherever will fit him while remaining deeply convinced of the extremity of his isolation, having lost his twin and having become lesser for it. I am a crispy Amrod truther, and extremely obsessed with Amras also as a character who feels like half a person after losing his twin, and transmutation is so wonderfully reflective of the undefined nature of his place in the narrative.

#literally nobody cares about this except for me but this is going on tumblr dot hyperfixation anyway #this may have started because i was explaining the plot of taz balance to anna and got an 'oh! so the relics are like the silmarils!' and #that's. THAT'S NOT WRONG.#pspsps come listen to the adventure zone it's VERY good #the adventure zone #taz balance #silm #nelyo originals #the work meeting was over teams btw it's fine #OH ADDITION FROM SEVEAL HOURS LATER #I GAVE CURIFIN DAVENPORT’S RELIC #DAVENPORT IS AN ARTIFICER WITH TEXT-EXPLICIT ASSOCIATIONS WITH DEADLY SIN^TM WRATH #YEAH ALRIGHT I DID A GOOD JOB WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT THERE. EXTREMELY CURUFIN HE IS.

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justanisabelakinnie · 7 months

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I hate this fucking picture so much you guys have no idea. It completely misses the point of each of these princesses' movies. Ik we've all seen this shitty image before, but I'd still like to deconstruct each of these messages one-by-one:

Let's start with Snow White: "At first it may seem terrible, being so beautiful that other women get jealous enough to try and kill you. But don't worry, once your beauty attracts a man, he'll protect you." Totally fucking wrong. While I do concede that Snow White gets almost killed by the Evil Queen for being more beautiful than her, and how this can send a sexist message about women's motivations and relationships with each other, Snow White was far from relying on a prince to "protect" her. Sure, she sang about wanting her prince to come, but she spent a large portion of the movie living with the seven dwarves and cooking and cleaning with them. She showed a lot of inner strength for a fourteen-year-old girl who was hiding for her life because of a vindictive and jealous queen. She was strong-willed, kind, compassionate, charismatic, and found the beauty and joy in the simple things in life. And once again, she sings about wanting her prince to come, but what's the matter with that? In my mind, this is a sign not of her passive domesticity or sign as a damsel in distress, but a display of her unwavering optimism and bravery, her ability to see the silver lining in a situation and look forward to a more hopeful future, a better tomorrow, is what makes her a strong female character in my eyes.

Next, Cinderella: "If you're beautiful enough, you may be able to escape your terrible living conditions by getting a wealthy man to fall for you." Not at all what fucking happened. Cinderella didn't escape her abusive household just by batting her eyes at the prince. She got out because of the help of her fairy godmother, and because of her strong will and ability to stay pure and kind even with all the horrible stuff that she went through at the hands of her evil stepfamily. Cinderella's movie does NOT teach that a princess' only worth is the ability to look pretty and snag a man. It teaches the importance of kindness and perserverance, and, similar to Snow White, of being optimistic and looking forward to a better life than the one you have, not letting the horrible circumstances you are under get you down. I'm getting really tired of people acting like Cinderella's message is only to be a dutiful housewife and scrub floors until a man saves you from your dreadful existence, when it is quite literally the opposite.

Sleeping Beauty: "Pretty girls don't even need to be alive to get some hot princely action." is such a disturbing way to look at the movie and also such a narrow thing to focus on. While, yes, I can understand being disturbed by her being kissed while she was asleep, true love's kiss is a trope that has been around since the invention of fairytales, it's not meant to justify sexual assault, it's meant to be a show of...well, true love. And while I don't blame anyone for being uncomfortable with it, it is still leagues better than what happened in Sun, Moon, and Talia, the original version of this fairytale. Seriously, go look up what happened there, if you don't know already. Traumatized much? I will admit though that it can be frustrating to not see Aurora do much but snooze throughout her movie, but she still shows way more personality than just being a slumbering damsel in distress; she is shown to be sweet, idealistic, humble, kindhearted, a little bit mischievous, and also somewhat sheltered and mistrusting of strangers. Plus, Enchanted Tales gives her more of a fun-loving, dorky, and silly personality, and sure, a lot of people shit on this portrayal(as seen here), but we should all be glad that they gave Aurora more of a personality than just being the perfect, swan-like, graceful princess that she was often seen as prior. I mean, it makes more sense that she would act like this, as she's not quite used to being a princess yet.

Belle: "Appearances don't matter, what counts is what's in your heart. Unless you're the girl." Oh really? Then clearly we weren't watching the same movie. Belle has never been reduced to just her appearance. She has been shown from the onset to be a smart, independent, bookish, dreamy, and adventurous young woman. While it's true that the other townspeople say she is the most beautiful girl in their village, they also spend a lot of time gossiping about how weird and strange she is for liking to read, which was seen as rather unbecoming of a woman in that time period. The only one who objectifies her and reduces her to just a pretty face is Gaston. He only "loves" Belle and wants to marry her because she is the most beautiful girl in town, and the only one "as beautiful as him". He's beautiful, she's beautiful, therefore they are a match, and for no other reason. Belle was never reduced to just her appearance, and in fact it was quite the opposite, with Belle's kind and compassionate heart being what wins over the Beast and breaks the spell. Or are you just mad that she wasn't the one who became a big, ugly beast? Which, btw, is also ignoring the point and themes of the movie?

Ariel(holy shit this is my LEAST favorite one): "It's okay to abandon your family, drastically change your body, and give up your strongest trait in order to get your man. Once he sees your pretty face, only a witch's spell could draw his eyes away from you." I am so sick of saying and repeating this, but Ariel did not give up her voice and seek humanity only to chase a man. I AM SO SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF PEOPLE CONTINUOUSLY PARROTING THIS LIE!!!! Ariel has always been shown to have a keen interest in human life and becoming a human herself even before she met Eric. Or did we all just sleep on "Part of Your World"? Hmmmm??? And furthermore, Ariel did not get Eric just by having a pretty face. Sure, she didn't have a voice, but they became lovers because of their similar tastes, Ariel's thirst for adventure, her dorky and curious personality, and ability to be friends with everyone she meets. She was not just a boy-crazy ditz who only cared about snagging a bite of that man-candy, and I am going to start biting and maiming the next person who dares slander my girl Ariel with this fabrication of an event that didn't actually happen.

And finally, Jasmine: "As a woman, your political worth is reduced to your marriageability." I...I just...*sigh* You really didn't pay much attention to the movie itself, did you? Jasmine's entire plot was that she didn't want to be reduced to a bargaining chip, with no power or worth of her own other than being the wife of a Sultan. She wanted to marry for love, to be more than just a prize to be won. And in the end, she gets that through marriage with a man whom she actually loves, Aladdin. She is not reduced to her marriageability, because in the end, she actually gets a CHOICE on who she marries. She gets some free will and is able to make her own decisions. She becomes more than a prize to be won, and only gets with a man because she wants to, not because it's been decided for her. She gets her happy ending because she FIGHTS for it, not because it's all she's worth. For Pete's sake.

Another thing about these shitty complaints that they ALL have in common is that they reduce all of the princesses down to their physical attributes. As if the movie is sending the message that your beauty is all that matters when you're a Disney Princess. Which is NOT FUCKING TRUE. While, yes, all of these princesses are beautiful, and their beauty is a large part of their character, it is not the only part of their character, it is not even the biggest part of their character, and none of these women are reduced to being just pretty objects for a man to win. They all have personalities and goals and messages to send that are about more than their appearances, or that even critique the idea that their beauty and status as princesses are all there is to them. They are not just bubbleheaded bimbos who wait around for man all day and look cute. They are SO MUCH MORE than that, and quite frankly, the fact that you are cherrypicking details from the movies to show that their looks are all that matter in their storylines shows that, in truth, YOU are the one boiling these women down to nothing but being beautiful. Not the movie. But YOU. YOU are to blame. I won't say that these movies are above criticism, but also have some self-awareness and critical thinking skills, and quit projecting your own misogyny onto these Disney Princesses, who are all remarkable heroines/characters in their own right.

I can't stand it when people slander the Disney Princesses in such shallow and misogynistic ways, and will defend them until the end of time.

#disney princess #misogyny #sexism #snow white #sleeping beauty #the little mermaid #cinderella #aladdin #my post

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