Pipolyte



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    From a Hobbitkink prompt:

    The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

    The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

    (Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

     

    (Bagginshield, Gimli/Legolas) In which recovery takes time, the dead members of the Company take to watching Gimli as though he’s a soap opera, the living struggle with being left behind, Legolas is confused, Khuzdul is abused, and Thorin is four feet and ten inches of guilt and anger.

    ~**~

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    22 Jun 2023

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Probablement une des meilleures fics LOTR qui existe

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    It bubbled up from his chest, made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, goosebumps breaking over his skin as a shriek of pain ripped from his throat. He’d never screamed like that, from his very core - he’d always been loud, but not like this. 

    His hand instinctively wrapped around the blade and he gagged, choking on the taste of something rotten. He was pretty sure that’s not how blood was supposed to taste and he heaved, swallowing down bile past his gasping, head falling back with a thunk against the wall as he shuddered. His knees went weak and it was only by leaning his body back against the wall behind him that his weight didn’t drop to the ground.  

    For a moment the pain, the rot, the way the world spun -  it made him think that the thud was actually him and he forced his eyes open; if he were to die, he wanted to look upon the world one more time. 

    Jaskier was still standing. 

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    10 Feb 2020

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Geralt needs Jaskier to come to a party with him. As his date.

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    25 Jan 2020

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    Despite what his outward code of conduct would have you thinking, Jaskier knows when he is not wanted.

    He allows himself the exact amount of three days of wallowing in that small town before he packs his meager possessions and hits the road like nothing happened. In those three days he sings and dances for his food and drink, fucks the pretty barmaid and sleeps off the hangover before heading out in the morning of the fourth day. He travels alone for the first time in a while but it’s alright.

    Now, if only people would stop telling him that the Witcher asks about him - that'd be swell.

     

    And we have a lovely translation into Russian available here!

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    17 Jan 2020

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    "You worry me," Lan WangJi tells him seriously. He puts his hands on Wei WuXian's knees for lack of a better place to put them. Wei WuXian places his own hands on top of Lan WangJi's, presumably to stop him from trying again to check his bandages.

     

    "You don't need to worry," Wei WuXian says. "I swear I'm fine. I'll tell you if something feels off. You know me, I'm a huge crybaby whiner."

     

    Lan WangJi frowns at him again. It's true that Wei WuXian can be a bit of a crybaby, but only about injuries that don't actually matter. When it's something important, like a ghost curse or a fundamentally unstable necromantic practice, Wei WuXian keeps it to himself. "Ridiculous," Lan WangJi tells him. Wei WuXian grins down at him.

    --

    In the Jingshi, after Koi Tower.

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    20 Feb 2019