Man, I can’t tell if The Hobbit/Bagginshield was just a much bigger fandom than I realized, or if it’s seeing some kind of resurgence lately because my old fics and meta are getting slammed with new readers??
Summary: In which there are debts to be repaid and adventures yet to be found.
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i lied to you, i lied to all of you, i act like i’m a tolkien scholar or an mcu fan or a even that i have any level of good taste whatsoever but all this bitch needs is 1) vaguely fantastic story with 2) good worldbuilding that hints at more than we see and 3) two losers in love 4) one of whom gets tragically possessed/mind controlled/turned into something against their will
Not only WOULD I, I HAVE written explicit omegaverse. I actually think as a fictional concept it’s really fascinating for its ability to present an alternate universe with multiple accepted genders and subgenders. I’ve seen good A/B/O that rewrites human history, exploring alternate history, others where the women aren’t considered “the weaker sex” by default and what that would mean. I know it’s often used to write porn, but some really clever explorations of social dynamics are possible even within the most PWP smut. Anyway, by this I mean, I don’t think A/B/O is automatically something I would be embarrassed to admit writing, except insofar as I’d be embarrassed to admit writing smut in general. Which is what mine was.
Heat – Thorin x Bilbo (Bagginshield) – (4,279 words) omega Thorin, Alpha Bilbo. It’s mostly smut but I really enjoyed taking some of the characters’ canon personality traits – for example Thorin’s wariness in Bree, his general distrust of outsiders, and by contrast Bilbo’s enforced boring lifestyle, and interpreting it that they’re the less commonly written (in fandom) subgenders. Thorin is afraid of being outed as an unbonded omega in the course of his difficult life, Bilbo is afraid of being considered savage as an unbonded Alpha and tries to be as unobjectionable and boring as possible as a result. The fic takes place well into their relationship, after Erebor is reclaimed, and they’re finally in a safe enough place physically and emotionally to discuss the stereotypes they had to deal with their whole lives. Sorry to ramble, but I am actually rather proud of the piece!
One of the the craziest things about “The Hobbit” film trilogy is the fact that like in many mainstream films, the concept of “home” is romanticized, and yet unlike many mainstream films, the reality of “home” is shown to be incredibly toxic.
Both Thorin and Bilbo glorify their homes in their minds, yet in both cases when they actually reach the home they’ve been dreaming about, they find them to be empty, desolate, and nightmarish. Their homes literally trap them in a downward spiral of corruption and bring them into proximity with evil objects of gold that subvert their inherent personalities and goodness as people. Their homes destroy them.
This is still wild to me. Sure there’s other, more artistic films that will deal with the idea of “home” being a toxic rather than a healthy place. But it is unusual to see the reality of their homes vs. the narrative about their homes that the characters believe to be true running so contradictory to one another in a film that isn’t otherwise too concerned with being intellectual. Even the books don’t focus on this message to that extent. Whereas in the films, there is a central theme that the idea of “home” as a fixation on a place is less healthy for us than the actions we take, and the people we choose to be with.
Okay but, what more proof do you people need that the crew of The Hobbit shipped bagginshield real bad?
Like
C’mon!
C’MON!
“Well… Balin knew what Thorin felt for Bilbo. And I think he wanted to let Bilbo know… that Thorin held him in such high regard… That’s what I think he was doing.” – Freaking Ken Stott
They’re not even hiding it
No one can convince me they didn’t do it on purpose.
There’s so much Tangled in the DNA of “Prayers to Broke Stone”, probably because I see Bagginshield and Rapunzel/Flynn as similar ships in many ways, or I just have a thing for ships where one dies in the other’s arms at the moment when they realize they’re in love (AND THEN THEY’RE BOTH FINE, RIGHT THORIN??)
– Like, with Rapunzel/Flynn AND with Bilbo/Thorin you’ve got the redefinition of home/dreams as being a person rather than a place/wealth.
– You have one character’s boundaries and perception of the world expanding as a result of the relationship as they leave their house and isolation for the first time to go on an adventure.
– You have early disdain and distrust of one another giving way to trust and eventually affection as they go through various perils together and save one another’s lives repeatedly.
– You’ve got the theft of a royal heirloom presenting a (temporary) breach of trust between them that almost ends the relationship, but later turns out to be a well intentioned gesture that went wrong with the crown and the Arkenstone. (Flynn’s attempt to give it away before being imprisoned appearing as him abandoning Rapunzel/keeping the Arkenstone and eventually giving it away in an attempt to protect Thorin’s sanity and then life)
– And of course you’ve got the aforementioned death scene and simultaneous revelation about what they mean to each other as they gaze into one another’s eyes while the one of them is dying.
… so I guess what I’m saying is, I have a type. A worryingly specific type.
19) kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing
Thorin was no stranger to hard work, but twelve hours was too much. He had awoken early in the morning (never as early as Bilbo though, not since he had been permanently excused from first breakfast) to find Bilbo at his desk. Now it was nightfall and two normal meals, which meant something like twenty hobbit meals by his estimate, had gone by without Bilbo poking his head out of his study. It was unnatural. Something needed to be done.
Bilbo did not look up from his page when Thorin entered the room, the scratch of his quill a counterpoint to Thorin’s careful footsteps where were no doubt thunderous to Shire-folk. Bilbo still wore his checkered robe, and likely had not dressed at all that day, but instead awoken with some new idea for his book, (which was already a wild flight of fantasy that bore little resemblance to their actual quest), had meant only to jot down a few ideas, and been engrossed ever since.
Well, it would not do to stop his work, not if it was important. But after twelve hours without a word, Thorin thought he had at least earned the right to be a minor nuisance.
His hands first fell lightly on Bilbo’s shoulders, and his husband murmured an acknowledgement but did not cease in his scribbling. It would not be the first time Thorin had offered a shoulder rub while Bilbo worked, nor the first time the same had been offered in return while Thorin wrote his letters to Erebor. But his hands did not stop there, but lingered at the opening in Blbo’s robes, his touch tracing up from there to Bilbo’s throat and then to his ears, and there Thorin leaned in to pepper the sensitive lobes with nibbled kisses.
That earned him a gusting sigh, and more importantly no order to stop. The scratching of the quill slowed, but did not cease. This called for drastic measures.
Thorin parted the robe so it exposed Bilbo’s shoulders, his hands traveling in stroking, seeking arcs over Bilbo’s skin. His tongue traced the edges of Bilbo’s ears before his brought his kisses lower to his throat. Distantly, he heard the quill stop.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Thorin murmured.
“Only your own death scene, it took me some time to work up to that part you know. Very emotional,” Bilbo said. He feigned offront, but his voice was breathy as he tilted his head back to give Thorin better access.
“And for your efforts I thank you, otherwise I’m sure we will be swarmed with well-wishers the minute your book is printed,” Thorin spoke the words into Bilbo’s shoulder as he covered it in open-mouthed kisses.
“Oh, we can’t have that,” Bilbo said. He turned in his chair, and caught Thorin’s bearded chin to plant a lingering kiss of his own on his lips. “But I must say I enjoy the reminder that it is only a clever fiction.”
“Indeed, and if you can spare a moment, it would be my pleasure to remind you of the reality,” Thorin smirked against Bilbo’s lips, and found no resistance in tugging him to their bedroom to do just that.
6.
lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up
Beorn’s home may be large and strange but it was, before all other things, a farm and all such farms woke with the sun. A fact that Bilbo was grouchily aware of as the first rooster crowed, and sounds of life began to spread throughout the oversized abode.
“Thorin.” A sleepy mumble answered him. “Thorin! We need to move, the others will be awake soon.” Another mumble, but this one irritable.
Bilbo turned over within Thorin’s arms so his nose was pressed to the warm chest he had showed with such attention the night before. The night before…that had been an unexpected turn of events. Not that Bilbo was complaining. He was more fuzzy on how it had happened. Generally speaking, his deepest held fantasies weren’t so obliging on coming true. After all, he had only meant to, well, hint at Thorin that he enjoyed the other’s company. That perhaps they could spend more time together, walk side by side, maybe get to know one another.
He had not expected the kissing. Or what came after the kissing.
“Thorin, if we’re not there when they wake up, the others might come searching,” Bilbo tried again. There was a distinct lack of alarm from Thorin at the prospect of being caught in bed with his hired burglar, which was extremely unhelpful. “Thorin—”
A warm kiss filled with lazy ardor silenced his words, and as it was followed by more lovely kisses, he wasn’t one to give up on the chance to enjoy them. Thorin’s arms tightened around him, drawing him close, and Bilbo was surrounded by the scent of him, the heat of him, with memories of the night before crowding out his previous concerns.
“Oh fine, but if tongues start wagging, I’m not the one to blame,” Bilbo said. Another mumble, this one sounding suspiciously contented at the prospect, was the last word Bilbo got on the matter before he gave himself up to a truly delightful morning.
My dude, I would be happy to fill this prompt but I literally wrote a 24,000 word Bagginshield fic for an alternate take on the acorn scene, include, “breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths” and I’m sure that will be much better than any drabble I can write on the fly here!
Avelera 