Thank You @msgwendolenfairfax - This Was Lovely. Plus: Bonus Points For Your Cool Pic! 🖤

While watching The Fellowship Of The Ring yesterday I - for the first time in like two hundred reruns - noticed that Bilbo drew a sketch of Thorin's Harp into his There And Back Again.

It seems he sketched and drew merely important bits like the Shire Map or some signature weapons of the Company ..

So .. he watched and listened to Thorin sing and play his harp and deemed it important enough to draw it into his book of the Quest.

I'm sobbing in a corner since then ..

IDK if this has been done before, but...

Looks like they could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll: Till

Looks like a cinnamon roll, but could actually kill you: Paulchen

Looks like they could kill you and actually would: Schnei

Looks like a cinnamon roll and actually is a cinnamon roll: Flake

Sinnamon roll: RZK

Too busy making cinnamon rolls to kill anyone: Ollie

Thank you so much Razzy! This is so beautiful! 💙

↳ NOW ON AO3!

Thank you so much for sending me this beautiful prompt, @dinchenrockt​, I had such a fun time with it!! Also, thank you so much for your continued support, it is very much appreciated!!

So he went to Dwalin–a dwarf whose craft was bloodier than most, but Bilbo wasn’t sure who he could go to with such a request on his hands, and even if those hands of his shook something fierce, he would not be deterred from his course of action. Not this time. Items were fine and dandy, like stitched handkerchiefs and engraved wooden trinkets, but what he was asking for was something he would never lose.

“Dwalin?” Bilbo poked his head into the training arena, watching the burly dwarf smack at a dummy with one of his fists, a new (and better) set of knuckle-dusters coating his hands that were far more intimidating than the last. Bilbo didn’t squirm, even as Dwalin’s gaze settled on him. This was a friend and one that Bilbo felt comfortable with–much like family. “Might I trouble you in…helping me with something?”

“Aye.”

It was a simple and straightforward response, and for a moment Bilbo wished Dwalin had been wordier. “Yes, um, well…I was wondering if you might be able to help me secure…one of those…” Bilbo pointed a jittery hand towards Dwalin’s hands, not thinking to be a bit more specific.

The laugh that escaped Dwalin though was one of those sounds that Bilbo should have been delighted to hear. A belly laugh straight from the gut and echoing within the stone room they were currently conversing in. “A pair of these?” Dwalin held up his fists, clenching them tightly as if he were about to throw out a few jabs.

“What–no! Not those! Goodness knows I don’t plan on throwing hands anytime soon!” Bilbo fussed rather quickly, not even wanting to imagine him attacking anything with his bare hands as the burly dwarf might do.

Reesh being like "I dare you to comment on how beautiful this cake is" 🤣

r+ twitter log

Happy Halloween!

it’s that time of year 🎃🕸🍬

(for the amazing @i-did-not-mean-to​!!! ur great)

Til that I live in the same town like Thorin the Icelandic horse who's a picky eater and whose person/mom/dad drew this durinblue heart on his plate 💙 I'm not crying, you are crying!

Oh yes!! Can't get enough of these guys! 🖤

♡

Quelle: thnks-fr-th-mmrs-sgr

When you realize you’re sitting between the couple ! 

[x]

Sad + Fluff = 💙

Sparrow

For @dinchenrockt, who imagined Sam and Kaidan having pancakes on a nice day. I just added a little drama, because this is Sam we're talking about. Read on Ao3

The second batch of pancakes is starting to bubble when Kaidan’s skin tingles in the presence of Shepard’s biotic field. Shepard himself peers at Kaidan suspiciously from behind the archway into the kitchen, like he’s doing recon and Kaidan is an unknown element.

 “Hey, you,” Kaidan says with an amused smile. “Good morning.”

“It is morning by my standards. It is ass o’clock by your standards. Why are you awake?”

Kaidan gestures towards the open window, where sunrise hasn’t quite surrendered to daytime and some enterprising birds are getting a jump on things. “It’s a beautiful morning. Thought I’d spoil you with a nice breakfast.” 

Technically true, on both counts, even if it doesn’t really answer the question. Shepard narrows his eyes, perhaps suspecting there’s more to it, but Kaidan heads off further questions by plucking a piece of bacon off a plate and holding it up.

“Burnt it just for you.”

Shepard makes an interested sound and fully enters the kitchen, snatching the Distraction Bacon and popping it in his mouth. Bacon shouldn’t crunch like that unless it’s in a salad, but relationships require compromise.

“So, bacon. Pancakes.”

“Bacon in the pancakes. With bacon garnish.”

“Fancy.”

“Also blueberries,” Kaidan says, gesturing to a bowl. “And, uh, I was going to make some eggs but I accidentally just made more pancakes.”

“True to your nature.” He kisses Kaidan on the temple. “I’ll get plates.”

“One step ahead of you. We’re eating outside.”

Another suspicious look.

“It’s nice outside, remember?”

“I will concede it is tolerable outside, because I love you. But breakfast made, table set, and it’s what time? How long have you been up?”

Kaidan shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “I said I wanted to spoil you.”

Still not an answer, but he hands Shepard the blueberries to give him something else to focus on and flips the remaining pancakes onto a platter, next to the pile of bacon, all nestled onto a blue and yellow tray that had been gathering dust in the back of a curio until Kaidan stumbled upon it last week looking for decorative pitcher his mother had asked about. After flipping the griddle off, he leads them to the front porch and sets the trays down on the small table next to the porch swing.

Shepard observes the spread. “Orange juice. Cloth napkins. The ‘good’ silverware. By the way, I still do not understand the silverware hierarchy.”

“My mother will happily show you next time she visits.”

Shepard snickers as he takes a seat. “Well, whatever. You pulled out all the stops. You are spoiling me.”

Kaidan makes a pleased sound as they fill their plates. They’re the same blue and yellow as the platter, with a sunflower in the center and a painted band around the edges. He’d forgotten about them completely until finding the platter. His father used to break them out when they had big breakfasts in the summer. He traces a chip in the paint. Where had they even come from in the first place? His mother? Were they just inherited with the house when his mother took it over from Kaidan’s grandparents? He’d never asked. Maybe she knows.

“Look at all this burnt bacon, just for me,” Shepard says, with a soft smile.

“Just for you.”

No reason to mention that it got burned because Kaidan was too locked in his own head to notice until he damn near set off the smoke detector.

But the pancakes are good, quite frankly. The blueberries are ripe, picked from the bushes out behind the barn just yesterday. The breeze is cool but not cold, the sun pooling at the edge of the porch steps, warm and waiting.

A far cry from the days that weren’t beautiful.

He releases a long breath and forces his mind back to the present, where Shepard is drowning his pancakes in maple syrup because moderation is not a concept he has ever developed a relationship with.

Echo whinnies from the field down the hill, head raised, ears pricked, looking right at them, as though now that she’s noticed their presence she’s offended she wasn’t invited to breakfast.

“Later,” Shepard hollers back at her. “I’m getting spoiled.”

Kaidan rests an elbow on the table – his mother would be so aghast – and chuckles into his hand.

When had he stopped getting up in the mornings for those breakfasts his father cooked? Breakfast had been his forte. The only way he outshined Kaidan’s mother in the kitchen. But that last summer before BAaT he’d stopped getting out of bed for them.

Should have gotten out of bed.

Shepard’s eye is on him again, as he saws into his pancakes and fails to spear a piece of bacon along with his next bite because it’s so brittle it just breaks under the tines of his fork. Once he’s subdued the bacon he nudges Kaidan’s knee.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who just put out such a magnificent spread.”

Kaidan waggles an eyebrow. “Resting on my laurels.”

Shepard knee stays at rest against his, and Kaidan leans a little more into it. The weight of it, the presence is…reassuring.

The sparrow that wings in from the roof and alights on Shepard’s stack of pancakes is less reassuring.

Read the rest on Ao3