#furlo

"Tibbo? I know it's late but are you awake?"

"...sorry to show up at this hour."

"...TIBBO! IT'S RAINING OUT HERE, CAN YOU—"

"Furl! You gotta speak up. Come inside, you look like a wet cat."

"Thanks. For, uh, letting me in. Can I stay the night? I, uh, my—"

"Don't worry, it's alright! Grils is already staying over anyway. Now come inside because I cannot stand another second in this weather."

"Okay, okay."

"Psst. Heyyy. Grilbo. Furlo's staying over too now."

"wrmgh?"

"You should see your face, you look awful."

"Shudg up."

"Good talk."

"Are the spare blankets still in that one closet?"

"Yeah."

"Kay. I'm gonna go to sleep now."

"Okay! I, personally, am going to stay up all night and regret it IMMENSELY in the morning!"

"... why."

"Vee ain't here to tell me not to."

"Well, I'm here to tell you not to. Go to sleep."

"No??? You can't tell me what to do."

"Mmmmm. Yes I can."

"Counterpoint: I am older than you."

"By a few months! And— and Veevee's younger than you too!"

"He's the responsible one though, which basically makes him older."

"I'm around Vee's age and twice as responsible. Both of you shut up and go to bed."

"... Fine."

AAAAnd here comes more art for this year’s HobbitBigBang <3

These are for the first chapter of @bubbysbub‘s wonderful “That Which Begets Affection”

Business pulls Bilbo to the town of Scary, but it is the journey home that changes everything for Bilbo. Family, it seems, comes in many forms, and quite possibly in the form of a scarred, silent shade of a Dwarrow Bilbo finds in a ditch.

Family, though, is a tricky thing, and there's fun to be had when they come looking for their kin.

It’s an absolutely lovely read and I adore it to bits (*˘︶˘*)

"...thanks."

"Oh, you've got to see this childhood photo I've got."

"I think about the concept often. It doesn't bother me. I could sit here forever and say it was my choice, or I could say it was fate, and either way, I’d still be sitting, y’know? I would always choose this life. I think if I knew for a fact I didn't have free will, I'd freak out a little. But if I didn't have free will, I don't think I'd be able to freak out. Isn't that funny?"

Tibbo yanks the book from Furlo.

“No. I've had enough of all of this. Whatever thing is messing with us, it's clearly evil! I'm taking matters into my own paws.”

“Tibbo, don't!”

It is far too late. Tibbo lights a match.

“You're scared of me, right? That's why you all avoid me, don't act like it's not true! Well,” It smiles. “good.”

“Tibbo, I don't, I'm not—”

“You? YOU? You have no right to FUCKING TALK to me! Where were you when everyone left me? You were scared of me then, right?”

“You… you cut me off.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The book goes up in flames. They seem to consume Tibbo as well.

“This won't stop anything.”

“Isn't this a little… extreme?

“Et tu, Blombo? And here I thought you actually liked me.”

“I do, but just… you're not acting yourself.”

“Not acting myself? I'm Tibbo fucking Pinkflame! I'm the rebel, remember? Loyal to none? This is just what I do.”

“Tibbo…”

“I fuck shit up, I burn shit down! I ruin relationships, THIS is my role!”

“Tibs, you're scaring me.”

Tibbo says nothing. Breathes heavily. And runs.

But they don't even need to knock on Furlo's door. It's already outside, talking (arguing?) with Tibbo. And in his paws—

“Furlo? You stole my book?”

“Told you it wasn't me.”

It's not yours, Grilbo. Can't a crittel examine an artifact in peace?”

“You couldn't have just asked. You know I would've given it to you.”

“I needed it. You wouldn't understand. It cared about me.”

“...it's a book, Furlo. It doesn't— it can’t…”

“Not the book, whoever sent it. It knows me, it knows us. So it can’t help but care.”

“What? Do you know something?”

“Me? That's your job, silly.”

“You don't… sound well.”

“Sorry. It's odd, isn't it? The fact that I'm the first one?”

“What the hell is up with you?”

Veevee, hearing the commotion, approaches.

“Tibbo? Furlo? What's going on?”

“See? Tibbo gets it.”

“I do not fucking ‘get it!’”

Furlo just smiles. “Binbus, you've been awful quiet.”

“You're freaking me out.”

“... sorry. I just think the contents of the book don't matter. If we were meant to see them, they would've been in Crittish.”

“If we weren't meant to see them, they wouldn't have been encoded with a basic substitution cipher.”

“If an entity knows us, and if it’s above us, why would you force it down to our level? The book's not important, it's served its purpose.”

“You were all for reading it earlier! Why are you so against it now?”

“Wait. What makes you think there's an entity?”

“To answer both questions: I just had a feeling. Can't you feel it?”

“And you had to steal the book about it? I thought you—”

“Sorry.”

“Can you give it back?”

“Not yet. I'm waiting for—”