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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!

So usually when I get to this point, I have a fic ready to go and post. However, this one is a little different. Based on the nature of this fic, I’m not going to reveal it until October. 👀

BUT!! Just like I have all week long, I’ll give you guys a VERY TINY sneak peek (because I’m still tweaking), and feel free to scroll down to see some AWESOME MIND-BLOWING ART that @mysandwichranaway did for me earlier this summer for this fic. 😍

Otherwise, don’t forget the previous six plot bunnies can be found here, and you have til SATURDAY to make sure your favorite fic remains in the lead and becomes my next major project!!

Thank you for making this another awesome year of BPB!!

Summary: When Tauriel asked Bilbo whom she jokingly calls her “work dad” to walk her down the aisle at her wedding, he honestly thought that would be the most surprised he’d be that week. Showing up to meet the groom and his family and discovering that he actually knows her uncle-in-law-to-be intimately well, nearly sent him into shock. And then, of course, there’s all the ghosts because why not get married in a haunted hotel??

Excerpt from Chapter 1: Father of the Bride

Bilbo couldn’t even begin to believe what he was hearing. A breathless laugh left him as he turned the corner, shaking his head.

“Oh please, Bilbo!” Tauriel pleaded.

She had taken to trailing after him like a puppy as he removed binders of old case files from his arms to place back on the shelves in the archives. Every once in a while when he couldn’t quite reach, she effortlessly plucked it from his hands and put it away for him. He thanked her, moving on as if ignoring her outlandish request would make it disappear.

“I mean, I know we’re just work friends, but I’ve always thought of you as a sort of work dad.” She remarked.

Bilbo shot her a look. “It was the dumb jokes, wasn’t it?”

She grinned widely. “You are well versed in them.”

“‘A man sued an airline company after it lost his luggage, and sadly he lost his case’? It was clever.” Bilbo tried to argue.

“It’s very telling that you think so.” She teased. “But on a more serious note, Bilbo. You sort of took me under your wing when I first started at the firm. Showed me the ropes while the rest were…”

“Intimidated?” Bilbo filled in for her.

“I was going to say wary of a young red-haired woman wanting to make it big as a lawyer, but sure.”

Bilbo snorted, placing his last file away.

“I don’t think being ‘kind’ is enough qualification for what you’re asking. I mean, walking you down the aisle at your wedding…that’s a bit…personal.”

Bilbo finally gave her his attention, and he rather wished he hadn’t as her expressive eyes seemed to pin him with repressed sorrow. She shifted on her feet, before ducking her chin to stare at the ground between them with her arms crossed.

“My foster father refused to do it. He has…history with Kili’s family, and basically disowned me when I refused to call off the wedding.”

Bilbo crossed the distance to lay his hand on her shoulder.

“Oh Tauriel, I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged and tilted her head, but the tears she stubbornly held onto that caused her eyes to shine were far too telling of her true feelings. And with five simple words, the flood was released.

“I don’t have anyone else.” She whispered hoarsely.

Bilbo handed over his handkerchief before awkwardly pulling her down into a hug. It was a challenge when your female coworker was almost a foot taller than you, but if the way she sunk into the embrace was any indicator, he could tell Tauriel appreciated it. His right hand slowly reached back to play with his golden hoop earring. A nervous gesture of his that he jokingly blamed on why he stayed in the background as a paralegal rather than taking on cases like a true lawyer.

After a few more minutes, she finally released Bilbo, carefully wiping away the streaks of mascara under her eyes and blowing her nose. Bilbo silently mourned the death of that handkerchief, feeling guilty for the thought. He opened his mouth, ready to deny her request in the most gentle way possible, but instead all that came out was a heavy sigh. He gave her a little half-grin before taking hold of her free hand with both of his.

“I think you could do better than a stuffy old fool like me, but yes. Yes, I would be honored to walk you down the aisle on your wedding day.”

A squeal, reminding him of just how young Tauriel was despite how she acted in the office, was released and he found himself with a mouth full of red hair as she practically crushed him against her.

“Thank you, Bilbo. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Bilbo gave a huff all in good fun as he pat her back.

“It is absolutely the least I could do.”

***

Excerpt from Chapter 2: Touring the Venue

“And we can consider this as place for the reception.”

Bilbo looked out across the decent sized wooden gazebo, appreciating the way the trees framed the shot, and the small string of lights delicately hung around the inside edge of the structure.

“It’s beautiful.” Bilbo breathed.

Tauriel grinned and nodded in agreement which made Kili want to take it right then and there.

“We’ll consider it.” Dis was quick to step in. “Let’s look around at some other some of the other locations on the property first. Because if it’s raining like it was this morning, an outdoor reception might not be the best idea.”

The wedding planner was quick to agree as she started to steer them back inside to show them alternatives. Bilbo, who was quite frankly, worn down already by wedding preparations decided to hang back and admire the beauty of the property a little bit longer. Placing his hands on the railing in the back, he could just make out the slope of the river and the gardens before it. He closed his eyes, basking in the beauty of it all. This place was almost his paradise.

“It’s too bad Dis isn’t a fan of outdoor weddings.”

Bilbo spun around, his heart hammering in his chest as he narrowed his eyes at Thorin. The man was almost sheepish if it wasn’t for the rather conspicuously innocent smile and way he had his hands tucked in his pockets. Much like Bilbo’s initial impression of him from their uni days, the man truly was too handsome for his own good.

“It’s the bugs.” He continued.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, which finally got him faltering a bit.

“Dis!” He quickly explained. “It’s why she’s not going to okay this spot. She doesn’t like bugs.”

“Fascinating.” Bilbo drawled, deciding now was the best time to make his exit.

“It’s too bad.” Thorin shrugged, purposely brushing up against him. “It really would be the perfect place for a dance.”

With the flip of a switch, the lights blazed to life, giving the gazebo a soft warm glow. Bilbo stopped, his appreciation for the display stronger than his desire to escape the other man. As he turned a circle to really get a feel for the ambiance, he was flummoxed by the hand suddenly before him.

“Don’t you think?”

“Don’t I think what?” Bilbo repeated dumbly staring from the large palm before him and back to Thorin’s impossibly blue eyes.

“That we should dance.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no! I don’t dance.” He explained trying to back away.

Thorin, however, was unfortunately persistent. He raised an eyebrow, but made no move to chase Bilbo, always leaving the choice with him.

“Will you not have to dance the father-daughter dance with Tauriel?”

Well, damn. Bilbo had certainly not thought of that when he agreed to this.

“Just think of it as...practice.” Thorin shrugged.

Bilbo pursed his lips. He should be thinking of it as practice saying no to Thorin bloody Oakenshield. Instead, he stepped forward with a sigh, putting his hand in Thorin’s.

“Fine. I will dance with you to no music in this public space. Idiot.”

Thorin only grinned as he spun Bilbo around before his hand found its way onto Bilbo’s waist. Honestly, it was awkward relinquishing control to Thorin when there was no beat to go off of, and the man was unabashedly staring right at him.

“You have always been my greatest regret.” Thorin admitted softly.

Bilbo scoffed, even as he tried to ignore his burning cheeks at the confession.

“That’s so cliché.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Really?” Bilbo finally turned his head to look at him properly. “Because I’ve always thought of you as just another mistake.”

Thorin looked stricken, almost making Bilbo regret his tone, if not his words. They stopped swaying, but hadn’t quite moved away from each other.

“I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought in a drunken stupor I had just let myself be another notch on Bilbo Baggins belt.”

Another notch on his belt? The nerve.

“So you ran.” Bilbo remarked quietly. “And I never got the chance to find out why I wasn’t good enough for the great Thorin Oakenshield.”

The other man’s shoulders slumped and his eyes gazed down upon him mournfully. However, that didn’t stop him from pressing closer. His countenance almost imploring. Bilbo could feel his palm start to sweat inside the other man’s as his gaze flickered between Thorin’s eyes, his lips, and the little hint of his raven tattoo poking out of his shirt at the neck. So. Damn. Hot. Bilbo thought for a moment, Thorin might try to kiss him, and he raged silently over whether he would let him, when a light exploded overhead.

Bilbo jumped, pushing himself into Thorin’s chest as another exploded before the whole string went dark. His arms wrapped tightly around Thorin’s waist while the other man had his around Bilbo’s back, the smaller took the time to remark on the whole ordeal.

“Well that was...odd.”

#birthdayplotbunnies 2022 #starter drabbles #bagginshield #kiliel #haunted wedding au #so excited to get this one going!#also once again THANK YOU SANDY FOR YOUR AMAZING ART SKILLS

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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Day 5- Cheat Code

WOW!! So I didn’t realize that my next plot bunny wasn’t queued up today until right now.🙃 Better late then never I guess. I’ll probably do an overnight reblog of this one right before the next one drops tomorrow morning. SORRY!

If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: Bilbo moves in with his cousin, Primula, and her family as he tries to cope with the grief of losing his parents when a curious thing happens. Fiddling with one of Frodo’s games one night, he found that every night at 2:17am he is sucked into the video game world of: Quest for Erebor. At first, it just becomes an escape, but as time goes on and Bilbo really gets to know the characters, he is bound and determined to see every single one of these dwarves safely to Erebor. Even if he has to cheat the game to accomplish it.

Warnings: Depressive episodes (none that lead to self-harm)

It was almost over. The worst day of Bilbo’s life. All he had to do was get through this last part, and he could go home. Locking himself away from insufferable relatives and their condolences. Leaving him to finally grieve on his own. A much needed reprieve that would be a balm on Bilbo’s poor heart after the week he’s had. It was just that…he noticed the hole. Eyes wide and unblinking were trained on the twin black caskets, unadorned by embellishments save for the simple carved floral wreaths gracing the head of each, and poised over a hole large enough to swallow them both. His chest started to burn, and he quickly sucked in a much needed breath, only for it to stab like needles all the way down to his lungs.

Someone next to him squeezed his hand tightly, but Bilbo barely felt it. Everything seemed to be fading away. The preacher’s voice was getting further away, his chair no longer felt sturdy beneath him, and his ears were ringing as a simple fact seemed to echo loudly inside his head: his father was uncomfortable in tight spaces, he was afraid of holes. And Bilbo, his own son, was about to force him into one. Bilbo felt himself attempting to stand, but he couldn’t even get his knees under him as he crumpled and his vision faded to black.

When Bilbo came to, he realized he was no longer at the grave site. Instead, he was laying in the backseat of a car as someone gently ran their fingers through his curls. For a moment, Bilbo could have sworn it was his mother, and his eyes immediately flew open only to see his dear cousin, Primula, looking down at him. He physically felt something in him shatter, as he gave a hoarse wail and the flood of tears followed. Prim held him as tightly as she could, silently crying over him as he lost any semblance of control. He buried himself as deeply as he could into her knees, trying to anchor himself in the turbulent sea of emotions threatening to drown him.

“You can’t go back there. Not like this.” Prim’s shaky voice ordered. “You’ll come stay with us. At least until you’re back on your feet. And that’s the end of that Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo felt like he should argue, but his strength had all but deserted him. He managed the smallest of nods, curling up against his cousin tighter. His last coherent thought before a true sleep claimed him was one week. He would not allow his cousin to baby him for longer than a week.

***

Prim lived in a two-story townhome just on the outskirts of the city. It was painted a fetching color of pale blue, and the white trim really completed the look. She lived with her husband, Drogo Baggins, although of no relation to Bilbo (Baggins was a fairly popular name after all), and their twelve-year old son, Frodo. Bilbo had been delegated to the guest room upstairs, across from his nephew (as cousin seemed too odd a term for a boy nineteen years his junior).

After Bilbo had fainted at his parents’ funeral, he had been taken back to the home he once shared with them just long enough to pack his suitcase before he was whisked away here. The first two days had passed with many tears, hugs, and warm drinks. The first two weeks ended with Bilbo having long given up on a sleep routine that didn’t involve him awake most of the nightly hours. After the first two months, Bilbo feared he would never find the motivation to return home.

“Bilbo?” Prim’s voice accompanied a knock on his door.

Bilbo groaned as he curled up tighter in the covers.

“Bilbo Baggins, I’m coming in unless you say something.”

Bilbo groaned again, but clearly that didn’t count as an answer to Prim’s ears as the door flew open.

“Oh Bilbo.” She scoffed, crossing the room.

A bright stream of light hit his closed eyes as Prim tore open the curtains, and he quickly remedied the problem by burying his head under his pillows.

“Bilbo, you have to get out of this room.” She chided. “I know I told you I wouldn’t bother you, but it’s been three days since you’ve had dinner with us and it smells like it’s been at least that long since you’ve showered as well.”

It had actually been eight days since Bilbo last showered, but he wasn’t going to tell Prim that fact.

“What about work?” She continued as she sat down on the edge of his bed, her hand finding his covered foot. “Your editor is going to start bothering you again before too long.”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to let me worry about that and quit nagging me!”

Prim’s hand immediately withdrew, and an uncomfortable silence settled around them.

“I worry about you, Bilbo.” She admitted quietly. “Being in this dark room, by yourself for days on end, it’s not exactly…healthy.”

Bilbo closed his eyes tightly against the tears that stung against his eyelids. He just wished Prim would stop and go away. He was just coping in his own way. It wasn’t like he was even remotely considering self-harm. He was just exhausted constantly, and certain tasks had begun to feel like massive chores. However, he worked on his stories at night when everyone else had gone to bed and it was peaceful, and he slept in til early afternoon. She was the one making a big deal out of nothing.

“What time is it anyways?” He finally peeked out from under his pillow.

Her lips were pressed together and her eyes were swimming with pity. It almost sent Bilbo back into hiding.

“Five.”

That did jolt Bilbo a bit as he pulled himself up just far enough to reach out for his phone. The time reflected back matched Prim’s answer. He could also see he had two emails, four missed calls and voicemails, and several social media notifications that he dreaded to answer. Perhaps he should get up. He used to love to take his laptop to the tea shop down the road from his house, and just let himself bask in the sunlight at his favorite window seat as he wrote. He had considered doing that yesterday, but then noon came and went and he just thought of it as a missed opportunity at that point.

“What are we having for dinner?” Bilbo tentatively asked.

Prim’s expression lightened as she jumped to her feet.

“Frodo voted on pizza.”

Something greasy, additive, and full of fat. Sounded heavenly.

“Alright. I’ll come downstairs.” Bilbo groaned as he swung his feet to the floor.

Prim wrinkled her nose. “Not before you remove those pajamas and burn them.”

Bilbo gave her a flat look at her joke. However, even he was beginning to smell the stale odor of sweat and other unpleasant secretions of the body. A shower would probably not be remiss.

Two hours later after completing the gargantuan task of cleaning himself, brushing hair and teeth, and getting dressed in a tee and sweatpants, Bilbo was finally ready to face the rest of his family. In spite of how badly he had been dreading it, the evening was far from difficult. He mostly sat and listened as Frodo entertained them with anecdotes from school, Drogo complained about his clients at the firm, and Prim regaled them with the wonders of teaching.

However, Bilbo was more than relieved when he finally had the opportunity to retreat to the makeshift study (Frodo’s game room), and work some more on the next book in his series. By that he meant, he stared at the last place he had left off wondering just where he had been going with this direction, returning to his outline hoping for some form of inspiration, only to procrastinate any actual writing because motivation was a bitch.

“Uncle Bilbo?”

He spun around in his chair to see Frodo standing at the doorway.

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to reclaim your space?” He asked with a thin grin.

Frodo shook his head, a shy smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“No, Mom said you were having trouble with your book.”

Bilbo frowned and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Your mother needs to mind her own business.”

Rather than spurned by the sharp tone, Frodo giggled as if Bilbo had just told a funny joke. Despite that not being his intention, it pulled a real smile from Bilbo all the same. Frodo seemed to take this as an invitation to creep further in.

“You know when I have trouble writing, I just play video games for a couple of hours, and my mind gets so numbed I suddenly am plagued with ideas!”

“You write?” Bilbo questioned.

Frodo shrugged. “Just fanfiction, but I like it.”

Bilbo sat forward, a soft smile refusing to leave his face.

“You know that’s how I started my writing career? Of course there weren’t all the fancy websites like there are now when I was writing it.”

“Really?!” Frodo lit up. “For which fandoms? What was your OTP? What are your favorite tags to use?”

Bilbo blinked as he tried to process most of that, but he seemed to at least understand the gist.

“I liked to write in the world of Arthurian legends.”

“That makes sense.” Frodo nodded. “Since your current series is about wizards, burglars, and dragons. Real D&D kind of stuff.”

“Yes.” Bilbo deadpanned. “I have heard it described as that before.”

“OH!” Frodo suddenly exclaimed as he began to shift through the box of games next to the television. “I know the perfect game for you.”

The moment Frodo had found his prize, he thrust the game case into Bilbo’s chest.

“Quest for Erebor?” He read.

“Yeah!” Frodo implored. “It’s really cool! So there’s these thirteen dwarves, and you’re trying to get them home to their mountain only it had been taken over by a dragon and there’s this thing with the orcs and the leader of the company. But the really, really cool part is that you get to choose your character at the beginning and depending on what species you choose you get certain advantages in the game. Sam and I think that ideally it’s built as a multiplayer game where you have one of each type of character on the team, but Merry has played it before and he doesn’t like to replay games, and we don’t really want to play with Pippin because he never takes multimodes seriously, he just wants to goof off and then record it for his let's play…”

“I think I understand. Thank you.” Bilbo hastily interrupted.

Frodo ducked his head as he slowly started backing out to the door.

“Right, yeah. Anyways. I think you’ll like it if you want to give it a go. And then when you get good at it, you can play with Sam and I.”

Bilbo felt his breath hitch before he released it slowly in one drawn out and silent sigh.

“That would be marvelous. You’re very sweet, Frodo.”

That had the boy beaming widely again as he nodded his head before exiting. Bilbo waited until he heard Frodo’s bedroom door close before he tossed the game away on the couch. It truly was a sweet gesture, but unwarranted. Bilbo had never been a gamer and couldn’t see that changing any time soon. He would get back in the groove eventually. He just needed to buckle down and start writing.

Three hours later, and Bilbo had abused every app he had on his phone with not even a single additional word to the document. He didn’t understand. He saw the scene so beautifully in his head, why couldn’t he put it into words correctly? He tossed his phone on the desk as he rubbed his hands down his face. If he wasn’t going to write, he should go to bed. Start getting his life back in order by actually waking up at a decent hour. Then his gaze landed on the game his nephew had so lovingly pulled out for him.

It did sound fascinating…

Getting up to reach out for the case, Bilbo let his eyes linger on the cover where the dwarves had been so realistically animated. They weren’t your typical ‘Snow White’ dwarves with the short stature, long beards, and big noses…okay well that was a lie. There were certainly more than a fair few who fit that criteria, but they were more than that at the same time with the heavy metals and furs and elaborate braids. And the three at the front didn’t follow this pattern at all. Curious.

Bilbo opened the box to stare down at the game disc inside. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t know how to operate any of these machines, and it was far too late to wake his nephew. Yet, he owed it to Frodo to try. Sweet lad who only wanted to help Bilbo find the motivation to write again. Besides, he was an intelligent, college-educated man. Surely he could figure out how to operate a child’s toy.

It was almost 2 a.m. before he finally got the damn thing turned on and on the correct channel. As Bilbo held a controller that seemed to have more buttons than he could even imagine operating, he was rather starting to think this was not in any way worth the effort. The title screen came up threatening to blast Bilbo’s eardrums in the soft silence of the early morning hours until he scrambled for the TV remote to remedy the problem. He pressed the appropriate ‘Start’ button on the gaming controller and was taken to a “Choose your character” screen.

It became rather intuitive to scroll through the five types of characters and read their bios, although the ‘stats’ bars were beyond Bilbo’s comprehension. He could choose a dwarf, which did seem to make sense on a quest with other dwarves but probably wasn’t as fun. There was also an elf with a warning that there would be an immediate drop in comradery as elves were natural rivals with dwarves. Not a viable option then. He could be just plain ‘man’, also seemed to be a boring choice. Then there was hobbit or wizard. On one hand…a wizard seemed rather useful but Bilbo was a bit intimidated by the ‘expert magic skills’ that he didn’t think he would be able to master. Meanwhile, the hobbit was such a simple fellow, valuing home and comfort, but having skills in stealth which sounded like an easy feature to control.

Having made his selection and entered his name (he didn’t bother with a nickname), the game launched him into a movie-like scene as he was given a narrative on how the dwarves lost their home in the first place, and that the eye-catching fellow on the front cover was indeed a dwarven prince which explained his sharper features compared to the rest of his companions. After all, in modern media royalty must be ‘good-looking’. Bilbo listened somewhat boredly as the wizard, Gandalf, and the dwarf prince, Thorin made a plan to retake Erebor. Bilbo half wondered if he had chosen wizard if he wouldn’t be playing at this juncture. Then the implication was made on them needing a burglar before the screen went dark and the word ‘Hobbiton’ came across the screen. Clever.

Bilbo gripped the controller tighter thinking this was going to be the moment where he was actually going to get to play as his little hobbit character appeared on screen just now rising out of his bed. Then the controller in Bilbo’s hand began to vibrate. Thinking this was a gaming mechanic, he wasn’t too worried only the TV began to glow with a soft edge. Great. The game was crashing. Bilbo moved to get up and turn it off, only he couldn’t. He was frozen. His hands refusing to come away from the controller.

Was he having a stroke?! What in the world was going on? The buzzing from the controller grew louder, the fuzzy edges to the TV screen seemed to come out towards him, and then Bilbo felt as if he were falling. He closed his eyes tightly against the sensation. Then it all stopped. Bilbo first became aware of his panting, too loud in the quiet that followed his strange experience. Then he realized he had somehow landed on the ground and off the couch. Groaning, he pushed himself up to his knees.

“Well that was unpleasant.” He huffed.

When the spots cleared from his vision, the first thing he realized was how bright it was. Did he stay up all night? Again? As he looked around the wooden room with its rounded doorways, it took him longer than he was proud of to realize this wasn’t the study. This wasn’t even Prim’s house anymore! Just what was going on? Was he dreaming?!

Bilbo found himself rushing through the house to the front door, desperate to find out what exactly was going on. He opened the cheerful green door only to gape at the hobbits, actual real life hobbits, passing by his gate.

“Hello, Mister Bilbo!”

Bilbo slammed the door shut. This was not happening. Not happening. Things like this did not happen in real life. He slowly opened the door only for the same hobbit to once again call out in exactly the same manner.

“Hello, Mister Bilbo!”

Bilbo stood there dumbfounded as he watched the hobbit saunter off only to return a few minutes later to repeat the same greeting. That had to be proof then. He wasn’t just in some weird fantasy land. He was inside the video game.

“Nope.”

Bilbo fainted dead on the spot.

#birthdayplotbunnies 2022 #starter drabbles #bagginshield #video game au #tw: depression

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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Day 4- Erebor’s Monster

Halfway to the end! If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: Bilbo is investigating ‘Erebor’s Monster’ in secret trying to discovery the nature of all the mysterious disappearances the town has suffered. However, Bilbo soon finds himself on a discovery that will shake his core belief system completely if he is to help Mayor Thorin Oakenshield recover that which was lost and defeat an ancient evil for good.

Erebor’s Monster. The terrifying sea serpent-like cryptid was said to roam the depths of Lake Erebor. Known as ‘Smaug’ by many of the locals, it’s assumed that during the channel swell almost forty years ago, he slithered from the depths of the ocean to lay claim to Erebor. Why? No one really knows. However, sightings of red scales or the nearly alien moans at night lead credence to the claims of something strange in the small mountainside town. Whether elaborate hoax or the verge of scientific discovery, many now flock to Erebor nestled between the fishing capital of the region, Dale, and the mighty green woods of Elfhaven if only to see that which seems too far-fetched to be believed.

“Well? What do you think?”

Bilbo lowered the article to raise an eyebrow at the older man across from him.

“I’m not sure I know what to think. You do know I’m a journalist, not a paranormal investigator, right?”

“Ah!” Gandalf declared, his eyes twinkling brightly. “That’s precisely why I came to you, Bilbo Baggins. Keep reading.”

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he continued to scan the page before him.

“Smaug…photos…more bullshit…oh yes, here we go. ‘Accredited to Smaug, or not, several disappearances have been linked to the monster hunting tours of Erebor. When asked to comment, Mayor Thorin Oakenshield claimed no responsibility as all personal belongings including cars had vacated the premises. He further went on to explain how the cliffs surrounding Erebor can make for dangerous terrain, but local authorities have been unable to conclude if roadside accidents were to blame…’

Okay Gandalf, what are you up to? You can’t actually expect me to fly halfway across the world because a couple of drunk idiots drove their cars off a cliff.”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Come again?”

“It’s not a couple. There have been thirty-seven missing person reports filed in the past eight years. All of them stating Erebor was the last place they had been seen.”

Bilbo blinked as he digested this information, his eyes returning to the article with just a touch of renewed interest.

“And the other point of interest, Thorin Oakenshield is relatively new to the job. He took over for his father who also mysteriously went missing.”

“Let me guess…Mr. Oakenshield has been in this position for exactly eight years?” Bilbo drawled trying to act bored.

Gandalf held out his hands with a smug smile before leaning back in his chair. Bilbo tapped his fingers on the tabletop as he considered the story. In truth this sounded like a police matter, and therefore not something he needed to get involved with. On the other hand, Bilbo knew that’s exactly why Gandalf did bring it to him. This certainly wasn’t the first time Bilbo had gotten involved in a potentially dangerous situation all for a story. In fact, it was when he exposed Saruman as conspiring to overthrow the other White Council members that landed himself on Gandalf’s radar in the first place. The government official had watched Bilbo’s career with interest after that, even going as far as to fund his trips on the stories that took him outside of Hobbiton (which was most of them). However, this was the first time his friend had ever come to him directly with a case.

“I’ve heard the weather is marvelous this time of year.” He added.

Bilbo snorted. “In April? I imagine it’s dreary, rainy, and chilly in the evenings.”

“You’re going to love it!”

“Gandalf, I can’t just go running off into the blue chasing after monsters.”

“I thought that’s exactly what you do, my dear fellow.”

Bilbo couldn’t help smirking at this. “Well, this will be my first literal monster at least.”

Gandalf leaned forward as far as he could, placing a large palm on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Bilbo, my boy, I would never have come to you if it wasn’t of the utmost importance. I truly believe there is more going on here than meets the eye, and if you happen to uncover a giant sea serpent in the process, then that just proves there are still many strange curiosities left in our vast world. However, it’s the monsters out of the water that I fear. This is a case that will require a great deal of courage, a quick wit, and no small degree of charm. Alas, I cannot leave Imladris at this time.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as Gandalf gave his shoulder a small squeeze before releasing it. Bilbo found himself missing the warmth of the gesture almost immediately. His parents had died many years ago while he was still in uni, leaving him with their sizable cottage all on his own. A cottage he barely stayed in, come to think of it, as he was constantly bouncing from place to place. Gandalf has been the closest thing he’s had to family in a long time, not counting his actual extended relatives who were more interested in the wealth of the Baggins’ name than his wellbeing. Bilbo found himself gazing up at Gandalf imploringly.

“Gandalf, if it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be, can you promise I will come back?”

“No.” The older man sighed with a shake of his head. “And if you do, you will not be the same.”

That should have been the deal breaker. The moment when Bilbo told Gandalf that he had the wrong guy and he was better off finding a PI for this kind of investigation. After all, Bilbo didn’t need the story. He would find other pieces, closer to home, that didn’t have the possibility of sea serpents swallowing him whole.

“So when do I leave?”

***

Bilbo made his way down the walkway, rubbing his face, hoping that the airsickness would pass soon. Bilbo was not one for flying or sailing come to think of it…buses were debatable. Really, Bilbo was the kind of person who liked to keep his feet square on the ground, and after the six hour flight he was rather dreading getting in a car for the next three.

Wheeling his carry-on behind him, he made his way out of the airport towards the loading zone. Gandalf had promised he had transportation already worked out for Bilbo, and sure enough as he drew closer, he saw a tall dark haired man holding up a sign that read ‘Baggins’. Bilbo approached the other who almost seemed to quirk an eyebrow as he sized him up.

“Mr. Baggins, I presume?”

“Call me Bilbo.” He forced a smile, holding a hand for the other to shake. “And you?”

“Bard. I’m told you want to go to Erebor for some ungodly reason.”

Bilbo laughed. “Well, I run a myth-busting blog and thought I ought to give ‘Smaug’ a shot.”

Bard’s smile was as stiff as his greeting. “Let’s hope you don’t come to regret that decision.”

Bilbo waited until they were in the car and the trees of Elfhaven doing their best to remind him of his motion sickness before he chose to address Bard’s unusual comments.

“The mayor and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.” He explained.

“Ah, yes I heard he was…obstinate.” Bilbo agreed delicately.

Bard’s lips thinned and his grip on the wheel tightened.

“If it were only that, Mr. Baggins.”

And that was all the man would say on the subject. Bilbo managed to wring out of him that he didn’t actually live in Erebor, but in Dale with his family. However, his job pulled him to Erebor and Elfhaven more often than not. Bilbo got the impression he wasn’t talking about being a driver, especially if he frequently met with the mayor, but he remained tight lipped on that account. Conversation dwindled after that, and Bilbo found himself drifting asleep with his head against the window when the trees thinned and Bilbo was able to glimpse sunlight once more.

“You’ll want to see this view.” Bard smirked over at him.

They crested the hill, and Bilbo’s breath caught in his throat. A single solidary peak seemed to rise out of the depths of the large glittering lake. In fact, it seemed to be less lake and more sea to Bilbo’s eyes. Off in the distance to the south, Bilbo could make out the towers of Dale. Part of the town being built directly on the water which was insane to Bilbo. Pulling his eyes away from their suicidal lifestyle, he let his eyes scan to the north under the mountain where he knew Erebor to be. It certainly wasn’t as impressive, but it seemed to have its charm.

Bard expertly navigated the twists and turns of the road as only a native could. Bilbo made a mental note of just how dangerous it was, and even though there were guardrails everywhere, it seemed very plausible to take a turn just a little too fast and drive straight into the lake. It would be rather anticlimactic if he was able to solve Gandalf’s little problem that easily. Thirty more minutes, and they were on the main street headed for the Green Dragon where Bilbo would stay for the week.

Bilbo was rather pleased to see everyone walking along the sidewalks keeping the roads fairly clear if it wasn’t for the suspicious narrowed glares he seemed to attract.

“Not too fond of tourists if you can tell.” Bard informed grimly.

“This is absurd. They have a tourist attraction for Yavanna’s sake!”

“They don’t see it that way.” Bard smirked. “They seem to think they have a rather large deterrent, and you are the idiot that can’t keep his nose to himself.”

Bilbo’s said nose twitched under the implication. However, before he could refute Bard’s claim, they had pulled into the parking lot of his hotel.

“Well…I suppose this is it. Thank you, for the ride and…conversation.”

Bilbo opened the door, and Bard latched onto his arm before he could get out. Bilbo’s heart began to pick up speed at the desperate and dark look on the other’s face.

“Take care, Mr. Baggins. And if I can offer you some advice? Don’t. Trust. Anyone.”

An icy chill went straight down Bilbo’s spine and more than anything, he wanted to get out and away from this man.

“I-I’ll do that. Thank you again, Bard.”

The man gave a quick, jerky nod before releasing him. He gave Bilbo one last long look as he pulled away. Bilbo watched as most of the Ereborians milling on the street stopped to watch Bard’s retreat before turning to stare at him. Bilbo didn’t waste any more time as he all but sprinted inside the hotel’s cheerfully painted green door.

#birthdayplotbunnies 2022 #starter drabbles #bagginshield #mermaid au #although it doesn't start out that way XD #monster mystery au as well??

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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Day 3- Together in Erebor

If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: The Fall of Erebor was a tragic tale where all of the line of Durin was wiped out by Azog the Defiler, save for the young Princess Dis. Except for the rumors that suggested Prince Thorin survived his fall after cutting off the white orc’s hand. Tori, brother of Dori, Nori, and Ori wouldn’t know. Of course, he has very little memories of his past. Being a blacksmith was all he had ever envisioned for his future, nameless orphan he was, until a hobbit approached him with the adventure of a lifetime.

Warning: Canon-typical violence, implied character death

For years, Erebor was the glittering jewel of the east. The richest of all the dwarf kingdoms, and the largest city-state of any race. Erebor was ruled with an iron fist but a fair hand by the line of Durin. An old and powerful lineage headed by Thror, and continued with his son, Thrain and his grandchildren.

Dis, the youngest and the only female, was a true princess and cherished as one by her entire family. At 32, she had all the males twisted around her finger, and she used that to her advantage. Frerin, the youngest male, had the charm of a diplomat, but the heart of an adventurer. Rather hard to pin to his duties and studies, you’d be more likely to find him on the mountainside than within it. Then there was Thorin.

Still a few years shy of adulthood, the eldest of Thrain’s children fully immersed himself in the duties of a Prince of Erebor and was much beloved by all. His noble bearing, skill with a blade, and gentle heart won him the love of his people and the pride of his family. In spite of the Arkenstone’s title, Thorin truly was the Heart of the Mountain. And none laid claim to the heart stronger than his sister, Dis.

“Thorin, we’re missing the party!” Dis whined.

“Now do you want your birthday present or not?” The prince teased as he continued to rifle through his drawers.

Dis had perched herself on the arm of the settee, crossing her arms in a pout. She felt like if it was truly that big of a deal then Thorin wouldn’t have misplaced the gift. Still, she waited in eager anticipation. Thorin always got her the best gifts. Handmade crafts full of meaning and wonder. This was no exception as he finally retrieved the small spherical object with a triumphant huff.

“For you, Kurkarukê (my tiny raven).”

Dis smiled in delight as she reached out for the box. It was gorgeous. Made of gold with sapphires and onyx forming the design of a raven on the lid. A small slit was cut in the front of the box, too narrow for any key she’s ever seen.

“It’s beautiful.” She remarked before raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Thorin smirked. “Now where’s the fun in just telling you?”

She playfully swatted him, and he laughed in response as he took a knee before her. He reached out for her necklace knowing she never took it off. A few years ago, their grandfather wanted to push back against the Gundabad orcs that were encroaching on their land. Thorin was sent out with the army to observe military strategy, but there was always the possibility he would be dragged into the fight. After all, war was merciless. Dis had been inconsolable thinking she was never going to see Thorin again. He had made her that necklace the night before he left with her raven etched on one side, and a simple message on the other “Together in Erebor”. Now, her clever brother used her most prized possession as the key to his latest gift.

He turned the necklace in the slot several times, and she could hear the small gears inside wind up. When he was finally satisfied, he released her necklace holding the box up before her as the lid lifted and music began to drift from inside. Dis gasped lightly. It was her lullaby. The one Thorin had sung her to sleep with after their mother had passed. Inside the image of her raven that had been pressed with gems on top reflected back as little figures representing her, Thorin, Frerin, Adad (father), and Gamul adad (grandfather) began to dance inside the music box.

“Far over the Misty Mountains cold.” Thorin started to sing. “To dungeons deep, and caverns old.”

Dis loved his voice, and even though the song was about Erebor having been lost to a dragon before Thror retook the mountain, she couldn’t be happier than when Thorin was singing it to her.

The box finished its song alongside Thorin’s lyrics, and it closed itself back up. She held the precious music box just staring back at the raven Thorin so lovingly called her as she tried to get a handle on her emotions.

“Thorin…” She started.

“I know you don’t like me going to Ered Luin for diplomacy training. So I wanted you to have something to play when you sleep and are lonely and know that I will always come back to you. To be together in Erebor.”

Dis threw her arms around her stupid brother’s neck trying not to sob. It was too much. The gift, the reminder of his two year absence, his overly ridiculous soppiness. She never would have guessed in that moment that it would be their last together in Erebor. For while the two royal siblings had slipped away, a darkness had fallen over the Hall of Kings.

Azog, the giant Gundabad orc who led the charge against Erebor, had returned. His pride had been chipped by the army of dwarves when he first attempted to lay waste to Erebor and failed. Consumed in his revenge, he gathered a force for one more siege, and waited in the darkness for the most opportune moment. Which came on the princess’ birthday where the gates’ security was lax due to the high number of traveling dignitaries. The orcs stormed the mountain in a wave that would crush the lives of many.

Shouts were heard throughout the mountain until they eventually reached the halls where Thror and his guests drank and danced. The dark news had the king rising to his feet, terror clouding his blue eyes.

“It can’t be.” He swore.

The sounds of screams and dwarves fighting tooth and nail drew closer, and the warrior king was forced to take action.

“SEAL THE DOORS! CALL FOR AID! BRING ME MY AXE!”

“Your Majesty, we need a way to get all your guests out of the mountain safely.” Gandalf, the wandering wizard, declared.

“There’s a secret door at the back of the mountain.” Prince Thrain announced. “Take everyone you can, and Gandalf? Find my children. Get them out. Tell them…I love them.”

Gandalf nodded and the prince rushed off after his father.

“Mahal be with you, my friend.”

As the orcs began to break through the outer defenses, Gandalf began to lead the elves, men, and lone hobbit family out through the back. All the while keeping his eyes out for the heirs to the kingdom. However, Prince Frerin had immediately leapt into action the moment word of orcs reached him knowing exactly where his siblings were, never realizing he was heading for an ambush. Azog the Defiler promised death to the Durins. Every last one of them. And he had sent his own son in search of the young dwarves.

***

Shouts from the hallway had Thorin frowning as he moved across the room. He yanked open the door to ask the guards just in time for them to be stabbed through with an orc’s blade. In spite of his lack of actual battle experience, it was almost instinct for Thorin to pull the axe out of one of the dead dwarf’s hands and decapitate the first orc. Spin, slice the second one across the chest, and then stab the last one in the belly. It was after he was done, staring down at the mixture of red and black blood on the floor, that his hands began to shake.

“Thorin?”

Without hesitation, Thorin quickly retreated into the bedroom, barring the door.

“What’s going on?” Dis tried again, her chin wobbling.

Thorin didn’t know how to answer her. Orcs were in the mountain, in the palace. Where was his father, his grandfather? Where was Frerin? Pounding came from the door, and Thorin could feel his blood throbbing in his veins as he nervously held up his axe in defense. He looked over at Dis, cowering in the corner, and he felt his throat go dry. He didn’t want Dis to die. He didn’t want to die.

“I know you’re in there, Thorin son of Thrain. I smell your fear.”

A sword. Thorin needed his sword. He was best with a sword. Why didn’t he have his trusty weapon with him? The heavy stone door began to crack as something large rammed into it. Thorin flinched. This was it. Those horrid monsters were going to get in here and…and…Thorin took a deep breath to settle his nerves. And he would defend his sister. With his life if he had to. Another crack and a shower of dust settled between them. One more good hit, and the door was done for.

“Thorin!”

The dark haired prince spun in surprise only to see Frerin accompanied by a young and frightened hobbit.

“Nadad (Brother)! What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“No time!” Frerin insisted. “Quick! This way. My friend here found a secret tunnel. We have to get out. There are orcs crawling all over the place.”

Thorin clapped him on the shoulder as he dropped the axe and grabbed Dis’ hand instead. The hobbit was gesturing them over to a small hole in the wall. It would be a bit of a squeeze for Thorin, but he should fit. Just in time too. However, just before they could disappear in the tunnel, Dis released a gasp and spun around.

“My music box!” She exclaimed.

“No! It’s not worth it!” Thorin ordered, grabbing her hand even tighter.

Frerin, who was bringing up the rear, looked over towards the edge of the parlor where he spied the round golden object.

“I’ve got it!”

“No! Frerin!”

Thorin’s shout came at the same time the front door finally crumbled. The younger prince looked back at his siblings, his eyes round with fear, with a single word on his tongue.

“RUN!”

Then the giant white orc seized him, running his sword straight through Frerin’s middle. Thorin was frozen. It was like a scene straight from his nightmares. It almost didn’t seem real. Seeing Frerin coughing up blood, watching it drip from the orc’s long blade. And then the cold dead eyes of the monster fell on him, and Thorin had only one decision he could make. Unless he wanted to experience the same fate for him and his sister. No matter how much he hated himself for it. Thorin pushed the other two inside the tunnel before following and sealing the door and the gruesome fate of his brother away.

Panting, choked sobs, and whimpers were almost too loud in the dark stone surrounding them. The walls too thick to know what was happening on the other side. Thorin gave himself a moment, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the image of his defenseless brother. When he opened them again, there was only one thing on his mind: no more of his family would be lost this day.

“We make for the exit.” He declared.

Dis and their hobbit companion followed closely, and if each of them latched onto Thorin at some point, that was a comfort he couldn’t deny any of them.

#birthdayplotbunnies 2022 #starter drabbles #bagginshield #anastasia au #NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HATE ME JUST YET #I'VE NOT COMMITTED TO ANYTHING

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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Day 2- Fighting for a Dragon’s Wish

So this one has a special dedication section. It was exactly 1 year ago today that @dimdiamond made this post, and this Cursed AU came to be. It is almost insane how well this has all come together, but I guess Dim doesn’t call me “madman” for nothing.🤣

If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: The Arkenstone was no more and it’s wish granting dragon, gone with it. The traumatic events left Bilbo wanting to hang up his fighting lifestyle until thirteen rude aliens barge their way onto his planet demanding the stone. Bilbo finds himself traversing the galaxy in search of the Silmarils which may have the power to restore the Arkenstone, and along the way learn that he actually has more in common with the Ereborians than he realizes.

It had taken a long time for Bilbo to be considered a respectable hobbit. Given his particular history, many would have seen it as impossible. However, Bilbo rather enjoyed the quiet bustle the village he moved to had to offer. He all but preened in the golden sunlight that aided his small garden, and most important of all: his staff remained a walking stick only when he felt like venturing on a small jaunt through the woods surrounding his hilly home. For the first time in his life, he was completely at peace. His friends, however, had a different opinion.

“Forgive me for asking,” The tall Dale native grimaced. “You just seem so…”

“Bored.” Gandalf finished for Bard glaring down the end of his pipe at Bilbo.

The hobbit calmly sipped from his cup of tea before he deigned to answer his pseudo-father figure. Bilbo was fifteen years old when he lost his entire family in one brutal attack. Gandalf had been the one to take him in, and while he was forever grateful to the old man, he rather resented the implication that Bilbo relied on the way of the life he had been provided.

“Rest assured, I’m quite content. The people of Hobbiton have been very welcoming, and I don’t find myself wanting for much here.”

Both of his companions furrowed their brows skeptically, and thinking on his feet, Bilbo realized a subject change was in order.

“And Bard, how is your family? Are they…adjusting?”

Just as he hoped, the man’s expression smoothed over into pure joy.

“Aye, they are glad to be back. And I’m more than happy to have them back. Thanks to you, Bilbo.”

“Oh, posh.” The hobbit waved off. “I was but a small part of that story. You are the real hero here, Bard.”

Rather than encouraging a turn in the conversation, Bard and Gandalf went back to frowning at him. Bilbo felt his nose twitch as his eyes fell, rather rudely, to the dark, liquid reflection of himself from his teacup.

Bard cleared his throat. “This is a lovely home, though, Bilbo.”

The hobbit smiled as he seized the flag of truce gladly.

“Thank you, I built it myself.”

“Did you really?” Bard asked in amazement, really taking in the architecture of the smial.

Bilbo nodded indulgently, resisting the urge to rub at the callouses on his knuckles. Gandalf’s eyes seemed to zone in on the movement though. Thirty-five years, and he still failed to hide anything from the cunning old windbag.

“Bilbo, my dear boy, if this has to do with what happened with Sma…”

“No!” Bilbo cut him off, immediately jumping to his feet, teacup falling to clatter on the dirt floor.

Bard and Gandalf tensed, but didn’t react beyond that. Bilbo really must be losing his touch then. He could feel his hands tighten into fists as he fought to fiddle with the golden ring on his right middle finger.

“I garden.” He stated, his voice wobbling slightly. “In the afternoons, I fish, then I come home to read or draw maps or ANYTHING I FEEL LIKE DOING! This is what I want. I’m…fine. I’m more than fine, I’m here and not out there. And it’s…fine. It’s all fine.”

“Bilbo,” Bard addressed softly after a beat. “What happened in Laketown…it wasn’t your fault.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened as his chest began to heave. This was supposed to be a nice visit. He was in this nice new home, in a nice village. Why did Gandalf and Bard want to ruin it? Why didn’t they want Bilbo to have nice things? When he looked back up at the taller pair, his eyes were steel, and he could see them visibly flinch.

“Listen to me.” He demanded, feeling the power in his words and hoping it was only in his words. “Short of a sky-falling, world-ending, cataclysmic event, I will never be who I used to be again. So you might as well drop it! Either accept me for who I am now, or…I can show you the door.”

To emphasize his point, Bilbo opened the door to his smial before crossing his arms smugly. Of course, that was the point where everything went wrong. The sky darkened drastically, the ground began to quake, and a horrid noise filled the air. Bilbo bowed his head in resignation even as Bard and Gandalf jumped to their feet sprinting out into the yard. However, before Gandalf passed him, he shoved Bilbo’s worn pole into his chest. Bilbo stared down at his faithful companion morosely. This…this is why he couldn’t have nice things. Quick as a flash, Bilbo Baggins was out the door, ready to face whatever new threat beckoned him.

***

Maybe it was just Bilbo, but an alien invasion was probably about the last thing he expected to have to deal with when he woke up that morning. However, staring up at the truly massive ship as it slowly lowered itself to the grassy hillside was rather hard to pretend not to notice. Not that Gandalf or Bard would let him turn back now, both in ready positions. Bilbo merely leaned against his staff, waiting. After a lot of unnecessary fanfare, the hatch finally opened revealing its thirteen passengers. Other than the sheer volume of armor and facial hair on them, Bilbo found himself rather disappointed with how normal they looked. Even if they were flying. Well that was different. Considering it was rather hard to miss the three idiots who were the only ones not screaming and running away, the alien visitors flew straight for them.

Bard gripped his bow a little tighter, and even Gandalf tensed at their approach. Bilbo remained calmly leaning against his wooden pole.

“We are the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor.” The oldest looking one addressed, landing with a bow. “We come seeking a treasure unique to your planet. Please present it to us, and we will leave you in peace.”

The tall, bald warrior scoffed. “Why are we assuming these three would know anything? They don’t look like much.”

The dark haired one in the center smirked back at him. “Aye. Especially the short one. He looks more like a grocer than a fighter.”

“Course I can’t seem to find a power level worthy of our time anywhere.” The red headed one gruffed

His hand was pushing a button on the side of the eyepiece they all seemed to be wearing. Bilbo assumed it was some sort of radar, but to read fighting power? Baffling. Of course, that didn’t bode well for them if it was outputting that all of Arda was weaker than the thirteen of them. Bilbo felt his muscles twitching at the idea of making them prove it, but he remained in control of himself. He was retired after all.

“A treasure you say?” Gandalf finally asked.

The dark haired one from earlier landed before him. From the way he held himself as a very important alien, Bilbo was willing to bet this was their so-called King.

“A jewel that shines with ten thousand sparks of white radiance, shot with glints of the rainbow, the Arkenstone. We heard humors that it might be found on this misera…planet.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes as Gandalf and Bard shifted uncomfortably.

“You can’t have it.” He finally declared.

All the Ereborians suddenly ceased with their chatter as their eyes immediately fell to Bilbo. The dark-haired one especially seemed to be trying to set Bilbo aflame with his glare alone. Quick as a flash, he was suddenly before Bilbo, holding him a foot above the ground by his cravat. Bilbo’s first instinct was to knee the asshole, but he restrained himself, dropping his staff in order to grip the Ereborian’s hand for leverage.

“And who’s going to stop me, Ardan? You?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.” Bilbo grunted. “And I prefer the term hobbit or Shireling if you must know.”

Bilbo was dropped unceremoniously with a snort from his former captor.

“Thought as much. Now give us what we want.”

“Or?” Bilbo hinted.

“Or we blow up your little dirtball.” The Ereborian smirked over his shoulder.

Bilbo caught uncomfortable shifting from the others, especially the white haired one, out of the corner of his eye. Well, if worse came to worse, he may not have to fight all thirteen.

“I think what our dear Bilbo meant to say…is it’s not here.” Gandalf intercepted.

This bit of news froze the Ereborian in his tracks.

“Not here?” He repeated.

“It has been, quite by accident, I’m sure…”

Well that was a complete lie.

“Destroyed maliciously.”

Bilbo had to plant his feet to keep from being blown over by the power physically rolling off the Ereborian in waves. All of his confidence melted in an instant. What were they? There was something else underneath Bilbo’s newfound fear as the power washed over him. It was…comforting? No, more like…familiar. Familiar like a dream.

“I do hope you’re joking.” The Ereborian snarled, his full attention on Gandalf.

“Unfortunately, I’m not. But before you get too carried away, there may be another. And I happen to know just where to go to get the information you need.”

As if it had never been there to begin with, the power vanished, but it did not return the dark haired Ereborian’s previous good humor.

“By all means, lead the way. However, if this is all some elaborate last ditch bid to trick us and save your planet, I will not hesitate to kill every single one of you. Starting with him.” He promised nodding in Bilbo’s direction.

Gandalf shared a look with Bilbo, and while he seemed amused by the Ereborian’s lack of faith in Bilbo’s abilities, the hobbit could see he was nervous. Bilbo gripped his staff a little tighter. He really had been enjoying his retirement. It was a shame that didn’t last long. And he had only these self-entitled aliens to blame.

“I’m afraid it will not be accessible at this time. The Tower of Imladris is a well hidden fortress after all. However, in a show of good faith, we would see you comfortably fed and sated for the night.”

The Ereborian’s frown deepened as his arms crossed. Clearly trying to weigh the advantages of Gandalf’s suggestion.

“We can afford to wait a day, lad. For this, we can wait.” The white haired one stated, placing a hand on the dark-haired one’s shoulder.

“Fine.” The Ereborian sighed. “We will do as you suggest, but he stays with us.”

“What?!” Bilbo demanded, glaring at the alien’s finger pointed in his face.

Bard seemed as if he were about to protest, but Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Very good!” Gandalf agreed. “I was going to suggest Bilbo’s home as your reprieve considering it is large enough and not far from here.”

The nerve of him.

“Gandalf…” Bilbo began only for the older man to cut him off.

“Just for the night, my boy. And who knows? It might be quite the merry gathering.”

Bilbo turned slightly as he listened to some of the Ereborians whooping and describing their hunger in great detail. It sounded like Bilbo was about to lose three of his five pantries to this lot.

“Find your courage. You’re meant for more than books and maps, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo breathed in deeply, letting it out slowly as Gandalf patted his arm. The old warrior spared one last glance to give Bilbo a wink before he whisked himself away. Bilbo counted to ten before turning to face his alien guests with a large fake smile.

“Who would like some tea?”

#birthdayplotbunnies 2022 #starter drabbles #bagginshield #dragonball z au #dim and i are SO PROUD of really diving into the heart of the show with these characters

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 2 years

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Day 6- Another Chance to Fly

Last plot bunny that you can vote on!! 😭 This one kind of feel like a cheat since I did a drabble for it already earlier this year, but oh well.😂 Thank you guys for all the notes so far!! I’m going to leave voting open until SATURDAY. Please note that tomorrow’s fic is actually in the works to being completed in October so I’ll have a special surprise to go along with it. 👀

If you would like for this to be my next fic, please be sure to shower it with lots of love (reblogs/likes/comments).🥰💖 All plot bunnies will be linked back to this masterpost.

Summary: Bilbo and Thorin had a chance to show the world of figure skating how a hobbit and dwarf can be the greatest, when a tragic accident lost them a world title and subsequently their careers. Five years later, Bilbo is ready to make another run at it, but will he be able to convince Thorin to shake off the trauma of the moment to give him another chance to fly?

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Thorin was never one to let nerves get to him. He relished competition, and proving people wrong seemed to be a skill he was especially deft at. However, stretching in their warm-up room as the clock on the wall continued to count down the time until they were on the ice was making him shake.

“Thorin? Are you listening to me?”

His gaze immediately flew over to where Bilbo Baggins sat, calm and collected as ever. However, rather than be envious of his partner, he found himself completely taken with how fluffy his curls were tonight. And how even under the heavy stage make-up, Bilbo’s fawn eyes still managed to reflect a level of innocent naivety that he knew were not actual traits in his companion, but caught him off-guard all the same.

“It’s just another night. Don’t think about who is in the audience or what’s at stake. Think about me and how vexed I’ll be if you drop me.”

Thorin laughed knowing exactly how Bilbo would be. Down to being more upset that Thorin messed up their routine than the actual injury itself. Not that Thorin would let that happen.

“You ready to walk through our steps?” Bilbo asked, popping up off the mat.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Thorin rather detested warm-ups that weren’t on the ice. He knew Balin and Gandalf would kill him if he didn’t do it, but there seemed to be a lack of finesse when you were clunkily running around the room versus literally gliding on the ice. However, he and Bilbo went through the whole routine, spending a little bit of extra time on the tricky sections. Every time was perfect. Bilbo was perfect.

Two years ago, Thorin was continuing a family legacy of being one the few dwarven skaters in all of Arda. In a sport dominated primarily by the taller men and elves, dwarves were considered too boorish and clumsy to make good figure skaters. Then Thror took the world by storm, nearly winning a world championship in his first year on tour. Thrain was quick to follow in his footsteps, leaving Thorin to carry the mantle as well. For most of his career, he had only done singles. Elves and men didn’t make good partners, and Thorin had never been able to find a dwarf he was compatible with. Then he had been approached by Gandalf and Bilbo.

Bilbo Baggins had been an enigma. Hobbits did not figure skate. Ever. Their foot hair was so sacred in their culture that covering it was practically sacreligious. Thorin understood this well as it was the same for dwarves and their braids. Yet, Bilbo wore his custom skates proudly, and let Thorin know that his goals were the same as his: to make it to the top and prove everyone else wrong.

Thorin wished he could say that they clicked immediately, but Thorin spent the first few months of their partnership trying to push Bilbo away. He saw the hobbit as a liability. Something too new in the world of figure skating to ever get him the score he deserved. It was after watching him skate literal circles around Azog that changed Thorin’s mind. They had been partners ever since. Something Thorin wished to extend past their professional lives as the velvet box sat heavy in his gym bag.

“It’s time, lads.” Balin stated poking his head into the room.

“We’ll be right out.” Bilbo promised.

He waited until after the older dwarf had gone before surging onto his feet to press a kiss to Thorin’s lips.

“For luck.” He smirked.

Just like that, all of Thorin’s jittery energy had been completely grounded. One more reason why he loved Bilbo Baggins.

“I don’t think I quite got that.” He teased.

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to surge back up for a longer kiss this time.

“Third time’s the charm.” Thorin remarked.

Only it was Thorin bending down in order to explore Bilbo’s mouth thoroughly. Letting all thoughts that weren’t about the hobbit he loved fall by the wayside.

“Satisfied?” Bilbo asked breathlessly when he finally, reluctantly pulled away.

“Well actually…”

“Two minutes!” Gandalf called as a warning, not bothering to poke his head in.

Thorin groaned as he rested his forehead against Bilbo’s.

“His timing.”

Bilbo pet Thorin’s cheeks with his thumbs as his grin seemed to light up his whole face. It made Thorin want to kiss him again.

“We need to go. I’ll let you kiss me afterwards. As well as other things.”

“I love you.” Thorin blurted unashamed.

Bilbo’s grin widened as he gave Thorin one last sweet kiss.

“Come on. We have a gold medal to win.”

Looking back, Thorin always blamed the fourth kiss as a sign of what was to come. He shouldn’t have pushed for more. It was bad luck. Not that he had ever believed in luck. In fact, he had frequently told Bilbo that they make their own luck.

They left the room and followed their coaches down a long hallway that led to the main arena. The closer they got, the colder it got. A welcome change as far as Thorin was concerned. Bilbo gave a small shiver as he did every time. Thranduil and his wife had just finished, and were exiting the ice to await their score. However, the haughty elf clearly made time to find Thorin’s eyes and give him a challenging eyebrow raise.

“Ignore him.” Bilbo immediately whispered.

It was fine. If anything it got Thorin’s blood roaring. It would be his great pleasure to wipe the floor with the prissy platinum blonde twit. Still concerned that Thorin may start something, an apt fear considering it had happened once before, Bilbo led Thorin over to a bench far from Thranduil to put on their skates.

Finally ready to get out on the ice, Thorin popped up and immediately made eye contact with the one person in the arena who could unravel his confidence in seconds. His grandfather’s eyes bore back into him as if daring him to impress him. Memories and fears became entangled in his mind to the point that Thorin wondered if he would ever find his way out again. However, with a quick touch to his cheek, Bilbo reminded Thorin he wasn’t alone once again, and the moment their eyes met it became easier to breathe.

“Just look at me.” Bilbo whispered. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Probably the easiest instructions any person could give him. Thorin covered the hand on his cheek giving it a small squeeze. It was the last good moment before everything went terribly, terribly wrong.

It was all just flashes of sights and sounds to Thorin now. Pieces of his memory that refused to go away no matter how hard he tried. The horrified screams from the crowd somehow louder than the track to their dance they didn’t quite realize should be turned off. The cold seeping into his knees as he cradled a small body close. The flashing blues and reds of the ambulance as he clutched tightly to an unresponsive hand pleading with every deity he could think of to let Bilbo Baggins awaken once more. Even as blood pooled from behind the gauze held tight over his eye.

There were two things and two things only that he remembered with absolute clarity that night. The first was staring at Bilbo’s pale body in that hospital bed. The neck brace swallowing him as Thorin had to listen to the long, awful list of possible symptoms Bilbo could face after this. Paralysis being the one to stick in his brain and not let go. The second was Thranduil’s interview after the accident, and while Thorin had never wanted to punch the elf more, a small part of him told him he deserved it. After what he did to Bilbo, he deserved it and more.

“There’s an affliction in the skating world known as goldsickness where the desire to achieve gold invalidates everything and everyone else. I always suspected Thorin Oakenshield had it, especially considering it was the condition that essentially ended his grandfather’s career, and yet even I was unprepared for such a devastating and heartbreaking scene. My sympathies go out to Mr. Baggins who was dragged down by the dwarf’s madness, and my hopes that he can find solstice in a promising career cut short by greed.”

#birthdayplotbunnies 2022 #starter drabbles #bagginshield #ice skating au #i vow that if this actually wins #i will actually do research on ice skating to know what the hell i'm talking about

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