Knitted Axes

Sorry for the delay! Personal things happened, but I hope you enjoy! I’ts a bit different than you may have had in mind!

“It’salright, Lad. You don’t have to protect me.” Dwalin said, lightly batting hissmaller lover’s hands away as he fussed with Dwalin’s beard and clothing.

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1OU7C0B

by Shay_Moonsilk

Agent 007, known also as Dwalin, is meeting Q’s (or Ori’s) brothers for the first time.

Only, he already knows Ori’s brothers.

He’s been working with them for years.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

Words: 1813, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Week of Dwori Cliches

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, James Bond - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Dwalin, Ori (Tolkien), Dori, Nori, Bofur, Bilbo Baggins, Thorin Oakenshield

Relationships: Dwalin/Ori, Bofur/Nori, minor Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dori/Secrets

Additional Tags: Dwalin is 007, Ori is Q, Dori is M, Nori is another 00 agent, Bilbo is also a 00 agent, Bofur and Thorin aren’t, Meet the Family, With A Twist, Dori’s hair is big because it’s full of secrets, His secrets have secrets

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1M46E2Y

by Shay_Moonsilk

It wasn’t his fault that all the feminine products looked the same - surely there was a correct brand?

If only those stupid boys could stop laughing in the corner there.

Didn’t they know real men weren’t afraid to buy these products for their girlfriends?

But if Ori could just text back that would be great.

Words: 912, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Week of Dwori Cliches

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Dwalin, Ori (Tolkien), Nori (mentioned)

Relationships: Dwalin/Ori

Additional Tags: Female Ori, Dwalin is a good boyfriend, who isn’t afraid to buy tampons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1KiUHz7

by Shay_Moonsilk

Working in a coffee shop to pay for University expenses is perfectly fine, even though the customers annoy Ori like it’s nobody’s business. Until the man of his dreams walks in.

If only Bofur could stop teasing him first.

But why does this man seem so secretive about his order?

Words: 1916, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Week of Dwori Cliches

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Ori (Tolkien), Bofur, Bilbo Baggins, Beorn, Dwalin, Bard

Relationships: Dwalin/Ori, off-screen Bofur/Nori

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, But not the cliche coffeeshop au, we have pumpkin spiced lattes here, and Dwalin is basic and loves them, Bofur is a little shit, he’s going to pimp out Ori, but he means well and he’s a good wing-man, Ori is Bilbo’s lovely tomato, Ori is so done with them, he needs new friends, Dwalin is smitten

Happy Week of Orwal everyone!

So since i had some interest and i think mid-terms are over with for people…

Week of Cliches will be October 18-24

This gives you a little over a week to plan and get those creative juices flowing! Now when i originally held this i had a poll and asked people for their favorite cliches and based the week off those.

This year you get to pick your own cliche(s). You also get to choose when to post as well since there isn’t any kind of schedule.

Pick one, pick ten however many you want to do. There is no limit!

As always any median you want to use is perfect.  There is no right or wrong way and if you want to add three cliches to one fic/fanart? Go for it.

((So I wrote a sad Dwori thing. Enjoy.))

There was no honor in being the one to send the dead away. There was no closure, no redemption, and surely no relief, not for him. His father would always tell him that there was; he would always say how much peace it had brought him when he had to send his wife off. But this was not the same. His father and mother had been arranged; they had gone from strangers and had been made to learn to love each other. This could never be the same.

To Dwalin’s father, she did not hang the stars. She did not breathe life and her touch did not soothe or heal; her smile did not make his heart lodge into his throat, stealing his breath. She did not complete him and he did not ache when she was away, and he did not look at her as if she were the sole reason for everything beautiful in the world. They loved because they had no choice. But Dwalin did.

He’d chosen to open his heart to the never ending need. He’d chosen to love him, to love Ori. The boy was his, through laughter over mugs of ale, through sleepless thundering nights in the stark chill of winter, and through the silence after battle, when he would stare at the small scribe through bloody lashes and tired, scarred eyes. Ori had been his everything; every breath, every pump of his heart, every smile and tear and cold, trembling grip of their hands.

Ori had come to Dwalin as a refugee, from one of the villages in the high fells after it was attacked by mercenaries. He was the only survivor, and his Scandinavian was fluid and beautiful, like bells on a merchant’s cart, even though it wasn’t his first language. He’d been exhausted, frantic, and tears sent tracks through the dirt on his face; his light hair was plastered to his pale skin and his lilac coats and pure white furs matted with dirt, but he had still been most alluring. Dwalin had ceased breathing the moment he met the kind amber eyes across the fires, the shadows flickering off the freckled skin to make him look like an angel, otherworldly and beyond Dwalin’s grasp.

Then, it happened so fast that he could hardly remember it all. They’d just been friends, close and full of laughter, even when Dwalin would leave the village, or when they would spend hours by the fires to talk, ignoring the judgmental, disapproving eyes. But then, Dwalin had left for war, and Ori cried, tying his favorite silver ribbon into Dwalin’s long dark braid for good luck. But still, nothing was said of their hearts.

When Dwalin returned, aching down to his marrow, the wounds and dead faces of his fallen brothers burned into his eyelids, Ori ran, bare feet and hardly dressed for winter, into his bandaged and dirty arms. He’d sobbed and begged him to never leave again, frantically screamed that he loved him as he wiped the blood from his cheeks with his tremoring thumbs, and Dwalin had never felt so fulfilled.

But now, it all felt like a story, inked onto dried skins and shoved into a dark corner to never be experienced again. The memories burned his throat like bile, acidic and raw, choking him at the meeting of his collarbones, and he couldn’t bear to try and remember Ori’s voice, or how he always smelled of wood and ink. He couldn’t bear to think of him, even as he stared down at his face.

He was so beautiful, his long blond lashes kissing his plump, speckled cheeks so delicately. He was dressed in his famed lilacs and greys, a white fur mantle draped under his scarf, all of it washed by Dwalin’s hands; he wanted to be close to him always. The softness of his ink stained hands were left bare, both crossed over his small chest that would remain still forever; it had been bandaged so the deep wound there could easily be forgotten. Dwalin thought he was a vision of transcendence, lying in a bed of green ferns and Linnea flowers, his face lax and almost glittering in the moonlight. With his last breathes, he’d asked to be sent off in the night, so he could join the stars, and Dwalin could watch him shine for all of his life to come.

Dwalin didn’t want to watch Ori’s star; he wanted to watch Ori smile, and sing as he cooked, and press his nose to a book as he wrote. He wanted to watch Ori’s eyes flutter open after he kissed him, and to watch his pretty, delicate fingers weave his hair into a braid every morning. He wanted to watch Ori live, at his side, forever.

But it could not be, and the sound of the lake’s water lapping at the side of the small wooden boat reminded him of it every moment. Ori’s body was cold and still in his final resting place, and Dwalin thought it a sin for the supple cheeks to never hold a warm blush again.

He didn’t reach up to wipe his tears away, letting them freeze on his ruddy cheeks as he stroke the flint over his torch. It hurt, each time he tried to like a spark, like a blade ramming into his heart, driving the truth into his being more and more. But soon, the flame came to life, engulfing the head of the torch, sending golden hues over his own face and Ori’s body.

“I love you, and I will see you again. Run to me, then, like you did before.” He said softly, his voice low and tired as he stepped a bit closer to the boat. Holding the torch over it, he hesitated, pulling his hand away as if by some miracle he could bring Ori back just by waiting, and hoping.

But he was foolish, and Ori was cold.

The ferns caught easily, shrouding the area around the small body in a halo of warmth, the shadows on Ori’s face making Dwalin tremble with sorrow and remembrance. It took every ounce of his will power, then, to push the boat off the stony shore, the black waters taking it swiftly as it began to burn fiercely, completely consumed.

He watched, and he felt nothing. He did not feel the closure, and he did not feel the peace. He only felt anger, fury, and loss; it was an ache that could not be quelled. If only he’d been quicker, stronger, a better healer, Ori would be sleeping soundly on his chest, small and lovely for a Viking but perfection embodied regardless.

lovins

From an anon whose name I know by accident, here’s one for the pairing and a line of dialogue meme: Dwori

I ended up making this a modern AU, oops. I hope you don’t mind?

***

“You want me to do what?” Dwalin asked blankly.

“Model for me.” Ori cleared his throat and glanced to one side while rubbing the back of his neck, looking miserable. “I mean, Fili said that he was going to, but then he got overtime at work– you know how that goes….”

Dwalin nodded. Seeing as how Thorin needed all the hands he could get at the garage, it wasn’t a surprise that Fili wouldn’t be available. Of course, if Dwalin had known that Fili had offered to do this for Ori, he would’ve had a talk with Thorin about it.

In the meantime, Ori was looking more embarrassed as the seconds ticked by. “No, on second thought, it’s fine–”

Dwalin shook his head. “Ori, I’m glad to help. I’m just a little confused.” That was a bit of an understatement. He knew that Ori was taking art classes for his degree – the young man had been covered from charcoal to paints to something he called gesso for the past few semesters – but for Ori to require a model seemed unusual. “I thought you already had a life drawing class?”

“Oh, sure,” Ori replied, seeming to snap out of his embarrassment. One thing that Dwalin appreciated about Ori was that getting him talking about his degree always sharpened his focus on the topic at hand. “But I tend to work better when I have three dimensional references rather than pictures to look at.”

Dwalin felt a bit better about being just a “reference” instead of being recreated in exact detail. “So, you just want me for my body, eh?” He threw in a grin to let Ori know that he was teasing.

Ori’s brown eyes shot wide open as his face turned a bright red. “Oh– I just–”

Dwalin started laughing out loud, cutting off the embarrassed spluttering. “I was just kidding. What do you need?”

***

Here’s some memes that I reblogged recently. Feel free to send me an ask, or hell, just send me an ask because?

This one’s from the pairing and a line of dialogue meme.

There’s also fanfic asks.