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entishramblings · 2 years ago

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SO FREAKING ADORABLE

His lips tugged up at the corners. “And what will you give the forest in return?”

OKAY IM OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT. You must replace it give back to nature before it fucked you over. GOSH. I love this concept. I need more of it.

They are not used to wandering fingers and restless feet.

This sentence owns my ass

While the others regarded him with a deference, or awe in the hobbits’ case, or even confusion at his elf customs, he had never truly seemed so different to you. His eyes, brown and alive in the light, still crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His voice, low and melodious, still cracked when he spoke of sorrows. And his hands, delicate and strong, still bore soft calluses from his bow.

Not to be that bitch that’s obsessed with too many things….but…..the concept of elves being such a taboo among other races ALFJSKALA IM A sLuT FOR THAT IM SORRY

Humans were so fragile, so… final.

THIS.

He instinctively reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist.

FUCK ME I LOVE POSSESSIVE LEGOLAS

“No thankin’ needed. If anything, I should be thanking you. You brinin’ me those plants and flowers, even when the forest didn’t like you doin’ so.” His eyes fell to your knee. “I’m real sorry it caused you such trouble.”

Samwise is literally the most precious bean

He blushed. “Like I said before, there’s no need. Anyway, I best be hurryin’ along. Wouldn’t want Legolas to stumble upon me here and get any wrong ideas.”

Wait I’m actually crying this is so hilarious to me. You have no idea.

My friend, @minaturefics , I adored this fic!! Absolutely loved it. Sam was my fav.

Though I Know My Heart Would Break

Request: For the poll that Legolas won! You guys sent in a few prompts, I've incorporated: sick (injured, rather) fic, hurt/comfort, everyone lives, and reader confesses first! Hope you guys like it! (Title is from Hozier's Francesca that has me in a chokehold)

Legolas x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Content warnings: Mild injury (no overly graphic descriptions)

3.7k words

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You walked through the forest, ducking under the cedar branches, weaving between the cypresses. The air was rich with the scent of herbs — thyme and sage, marjoram and parsley. The late afternoon sun filtered in through the canopy, specking the forest floor with light. Legolas’ footsteps were silent on the soft ground, but the steady clopping of the horse he was leading reassured you of his presence.

With the coronation over, and Eowyn and Faramir wed, attention was turned to restoring Minas Tirith and setting up a settlement at Emyn Arnen. You and Legolas were tasked with surveying the land and forests around Emyn Arnen. Sam was curious about the plants, hearing how new and different they were to those back in The Shire, but Frodo’s reluctance to stray further than the Citadel kept him in Minas Tirith.

You paused by a cluster of pink rockfoils, thumbing the thin stems before plucking a few small flowers and tucking them into a waxed pouch.

“Mellon nin,” Legolas said, sounding half-amused, half-exasperated, “Why do you pause and pluck? You have been doing so since we arrived. ”

“They’re for Sam. He might have agreed to stay in Minas Tirith, but I saw the shade of disappointment in his eyes. I thought perhaps I could bring the forest to him instead.”

His lips tugged up at the corners. “And what will you give the forest in return?”

“What do you mean?” You frowned and stood.

He smiled, soft and knowing, eyes wandering over the barks and branches. “These trees have been left at peace for many years, the bushes and shrubs untouched. They are not used to wandering fingers and restless feet.”

You glanced down at the patch of rockfoils, the decapitated stems looking more brutal in light of Legolas’ words. Your lips twisted and he chuckled, and your eyes drifted back to him.

He had always been so full of light and laughter, even during the endless days and dark nights, even after Gandalf fell, even after the hobbits were taken. Ethereal, that was what people said of the elves. Otherworldly.

But he looked so human, so normal, standing in a patch of sunlight, laughing at the concerned expression on your face. There were smudges of dirt on his boots, dew dotting the bottom hem of his cloak, and even a small leaf lodged in his hair.

Yes, Legolas has always just been Legolas to you.

Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to lose your heart to him. How could you not? While the others regarded him with a deference, or awe in the hobbits’ case, or even confusion at his elf customs, he had never truly seemed so different to you. His eyes, brown and alive in the light, still crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His voice, low and melodious, still cracked when he spoke of sorrows. And his hands, delicate and strong, still bore soft calluses from his bow.

The last couple of days had been so indulgently wonderful. Without the threat of war or the constant need for secrecy and vigilance, being out in the wilds once more was soothing. It was a great secret joy, of course, that you had Legolas’ undivided attention.

He had been more loose limbed and free with touches. Hands grazing yours as you walked, his knee against yours while you sat. His eyes too, seemed to melt into an amber by the fire, a tenderness in his gaze. It felt as though the seed of friendship had slowly, slowly, started to grow into something more.

“Shall we continue on?” He said, and inclined his head towards the distant sound of water. “We can set up camp and leave our things while we walk the forest.”

You nodded and smiled before looking away, eyes scanning the forest floor before they landed on a patch of flowers. They were strange looking, three pronged with large paper-like petals. You knelt by them, carefully cutting the blooms with your knife, and idly said, “It is beautiful here, is it not?”

He hummed in agreement. “I could envisage residing here for a time, should Faramir allow it.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder and chuckled. “You should speak to Sam. Aragorn has already consulted him on some of the gardens in the Citadel, it would not surprise me if Faramir would ask him to Emyn Arnen to design something.”

“Those flowers,” he began, stepping closer and inspecting them, “they are… strange. I do not know what they are, and perhaps it would be better to leave them be.”

“Are they poisonous?”

He leaned in and sniffed them. “No, but as I said before, this forest is unaccustomed to such things. Gifts must be freely given, and what is not must be a fair exchange.”

You dropped them into the pouch and laughed, continuing through the forest. There was a strange note in his voice, something older, wiser, than the Legolas you knew. But what harm could there be in a few cuttings? The forest was vast; a few flowers and leaves here and there would not be any loss at all. “Come now, Legolas, you speak as though —”

A stone caught your toe, your knee buckled, and you fell to the ground. Sharp pain jolted up your wrists and knees, then a hot stinging spread across your palms and shins. You blinked, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the rotting leaves in the dirt, before warm hands rested between your shoulder blades.

“Are you alright?” Legolas said, crouching and easing you back into a sitting position. You stared at him, eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips. Had he always had such beautiful lips? “Mellon nin, are you alright?”

“Yes… I —” The shock of tingling subsided from your hands and legs and only a dull throbbing remained. You looked down at your knee, the same knee that had been shot, and found your trousers ripped and the old wound reopened. It was not as bad as the initial wound, though still relatively deep, and was bleeding sluggishly through the matted dirt. “Oh, I’m… bleeding.”

His eyes darted from your knee to the divot in the ground where a leaf caught in your fall was stained with blood. His lips tightened before he let out a soft sigh. “It is as I said: a fair exchange.” An easy smile spread across his face, the hand on your shoulder loosened its grip, and his voice took on a merry lilt. “However, I do not believe we will have any more trouble on our little trip here.”

The shock of the fall had subsided and you looked at the pouch still clutched in your fist. “Well, I suppose I should make the most of it then, and collect what I can for Sam.”

He laughed, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. “Never one to pass up an opportunity. Come, let us set up camp by the river and have a look at your wound. I do not wish for the matrons at the Houses of Healing tomorrow to claim I have neglected you.”

He pulled you to your feet, and looped an arm around your waist to help you hobble along. His arm was warm, his grip firm but gentle. Pressed up against him you could smell his scent, something fresh like grass or water, unsullied even by a couple of days in the forest. The both of you found a suitable spot under shelter by the trees, and after tying the horse up, he led you to the banks.

His nimble fingers pried apart the shredded remains of the fabric by your knee and started to wash the wound. He dressed it with some honey from his pack and untouched moss from the forest floor and some spare wrappings you had in your supplies for such an eventuality.

While he worked, you watched his hands. Long and lithe, they were precise and delicate with their motions. If only you could reach out, and lay your hand on top of his, to sweep your thumb over the back of his knuckles. But your hands were still muddied, and the new closeness you shared with him was too new and too tenuous for something like that.

Legolas set up camp with a practiced efficiency, and soon the both of you were sitting beside each other by the fire, eating your supplies of bread and cheese. The fire crackled and popped, and around you the forest became alive at night. Owls hooted in the trees, and critters rustled in the bushes, and then, very softly, Legolas began to sing.

The words were lost on you, but the melody was enough. The notes drifted in the air, curling around you, seeping into your skin. It sounded slow and adoring, leisurely and lazy, and the sensation of lying on sun-warmed grass, your lover’s touch skirting up your arm, filled your body. You leaned back on your arms, sinking into his voice, letting it carry and caress you.

When the last few words rang in the air, you opened your eyes. Legolas was looking at you with a fond expression, eyes half-lidded and lips in a soft smile.

“That song,” you whispered, “what is it about?”

His smile widened and he said, “I’ll tell you another time perhaps.”

Legolas stood on one of the parapets that overlooked the entrance to the Houses of Healing. Your wound was not healing as well as it should, most likely because of how bad the initial arrow wound was, and you were getting it redressed by the matrons. He sighed and let his eyes wander from the stone flagstones, to the rooftops, to the plains. In truth, the sight of your flesh, angry and inflamed, shook something in him. Even something as minor as your wound, was enough of a risk for infection, for fever.

Humans were so fragile, so… final.

He blinked at the thought. Yes, of course, how could he forget? Humans were mortal. Boromir was, Aragorn was. Even the merry little hobbits and Gimli were. How strange to think that such a thing slipped his mind when it came to you, but it was far too easy really.

There was a vitality that seemed to pour from your being, an almost stubborn resilience, especially in the grim shadow of misfortune. It was the way you would play with the hobbits, even after a long day of walking, or grit your teeth and carry on, even harrowing experience after harrowing experience. When you smiled, the day was better, brighter, and he always found himself trying to get another laugh from you.

And yet… such a light could be so easily snuffed out.

He shifted on his feet and watched as you limped from the Houses of Healing. He had intended to go with you, but Sam had wanted to discuss garden plans, and Boromir had gone with you instead. He was about to raise his arm and call out to you, when a figure emerged from behind the line of trees. Boromir walked towards you with outstretched arms and pulled you into his side and helped you along, vanishing from his sight beyond the trees.

Ever since the end of the war, it had felt as though things were shifting between him and you. It was only small, nearly imperceptible changes — softer smiles, more frequent dinners alone, hands that reached and fingers that brushed. And yet… Why did it feel as though you were on the other side of something he could not cross?

He thought of the cry of the gulls, the perpetual tugging at his heart for the sea. Oh, how he wished he had never heard them. Was this how Arwen felt all the time? Longing, aching. She was happy with Aragron, he knew, but sometimes he would catch her gazing out of a window, eyes forlorn and smile sad. Aragorn knew, understood even, and in those moments he left her to her quiet longing, never hurt or bothered, and welcomed her into his arms when she went back to him.

But would you understand? Could you accept that there would always be one part of him that belonged to the sea, to the distant shore he would never reach? Or would it be a burden to ask such a thing of you? Maybe you would be better off with someone… mortal. He sighed and wandered back towards the Citadel proper.

“Boromir, this is unnecessary. Put me down!” Your laughter rang out and you and Boromir emerged onto the courtyard. You were in his arms, limbs flailing as he wrangled to keep you held properly. “Boromir, I — oh, Legolas.”

“Ah, Legolas,” Boromir said as he gently replaced you back on the ground. “I return them to your care.”

He forced a smile onto his face. “How is your leg?”

“Mild infection but nothing to worry about,” you said, hobbling over to him.

He instinctively reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist. You were warm underneath his hand, warmer than usual, and you smelled strongly of herbal poultice. He could detect traces of burdock and comfrey, and underneath it all, the smell of you. He took a greedy breath, filling his lungs with proof of your life. “You should be resting. Let us go back inside.”

“I’ve been inside the past week. I’m bored to death,” you grumbled. “Let’s sit outside for a while.”

He helped you to one of the stone benches and you collapsed onto it, hissing in pain. You gingerly stretched your leg out and sighed as you settled. He sat next to you, his eyes lingering on your knee.

“Oh, stop fussing. It’s quite minor, really.”

“I have seen men succumb to infection from unassuming cuts. I do not think I will rest easy until you are fully healed.”

He followed the line of your leg up to your waist, then shoulders, and along your jaw and lips, up to your nose and eyes. Such beauty, destined to fade, to vanish from the world forever. How could he bear it? How could anyone?

“What is on your mind, my friend?” You asked.

“I was just thinking about the fading nature of men. I do not know how your kind bear it.”

“Death?” You chuckled. “But elves can die too, can they not?”

“Yes, but… it is not in our nature. In peace times, it is very rare for our kind to die. For men… even now, where there is no suffering any longer, you still experience the sting of mortality.” His chest constricted. “How can one stand to behold love and light, knowing it will vanish?”

“It is because they do not last, that we relish in them.”

“Even if it will bring you pain later?”

You smiled, gentle and indulgent, and placed your hand on top of his. His shoulders relaxed at your touch, the tension seeping out of his muscles. He wanted to capture the moment, to bottle it somehow, keep the image of you with the sun on your eyelashes and the feeling of the softness of your skin forever preserved.

“Yes,” you whispered, “even then.”

Something shifted in his heart, just slightly, and a smile crept onto his face. Yes, he thought, especially then.

“Sam,” you said, surveying the small garden. He had done a good job with it — the shrubs were well trimmed and flowers burst in orange and yellow all around. “Are you certain it will look good?”

He nodded and grinned. “It’ll look real pretty with some candles about. I still remember what it looked like in Lothlorien. We don’t ‘ave the sort of fancy holders and the like, but I’ll do my best.”

You smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you for this. I would do it myself but my knee…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” You chuckled and patted him on the back. You looked around the garden again, trying to imagine the candles and cushions that Sam said he’d arrange for the night time picnic you had planned. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I think he’ll love it. Mighty romantic, if I can say.”

You shifted on your feet, stomach suddenly lurching. “What if I’m mistaken, Sam? I’m not sure I could bear the embarrassment.”

The last week or so had been so lovely it had felt like a dream. Nearly every night, Legolas had invited you to sit with him at the top of some tower or parapet. He would point and tell you stories of the stars and of the elves that had come before. There were so many instances where he would lean in close, eyes half-lidded, and talk in a low, murmured tone. You would watch his lips, and watch as he watched yours. But then he would draw back and glance away.

“The elves are funny folk,” he said with a sigh. “I couldn’t tell you what might be goin’ on in Legolas’ mind, but I doubt he would be spendin’ so much time with you if he didn’t have some… reason to do so. If you catch my meaning.”

“I hope so, Sam. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I need to go to the kitchens to see what cheese and fruit they might be able to spare me.”

He gave you an encouraging smile and with a little wave, you set off downstairs.

The sun was just setting when Sam called you back to the garden to assess what he had prepared. Candles were dotted all around the courtyard, separated on candelabras and clustered in small groups around the picnic blanket. Plush cushions were laid out and there were little white flowers scattered on the soft wool, perfuming the air with the faint smell of jasmine.

“Sam,” you gasped. “This is — I cannot —”

“I’ll be takin’ your speechlessness as a compliment?” He smiled shyly and ducked his head. He reached for the picnic basket in your hand and placed it on the blanket. “There, now it’s complete.”

“I’ll repay you for this Sam, I promise.”

He blushed. “Like I said before, there’s no need. Anyway, I best be hurryin’ along. Wouldn’t want Legolas to stumble upon me here and get any wrong ideas.”

You laughed and he vanished back inside. You limped over to the blanket, wincing a little as you lowered yourself, and tried to slow your breathing. Legolas would come, wouldn’t he? What if he took one look at the scene and fled? You shook your head. No, he wouldn’t do that. If you were truly mistaken about his feelings towards you, he would tell you gently and bear you no ill will.

“Mellon nin,” Legolas said from behind you and you turned, heart thumping in your chest. His eyes were wide and a slow smile was spreading across his face. “I received your message. Why have you asked me here?”

You swallowed. Did he not know? “Is it… is it not obvious?”

“I have an inkling, perhaps.” He wandered over, his steps lazy and relaxed, and sank onto the cushions. The tightness in your chest eased a fraction. “But I do not wish to presume what may or may not be in your heart. Will you not give me the truth?”

“Legolas, I…” You cleared your throat. By the Valar, why was it so difficult to speak? He arched an eyebrow at you and you glanced away, speaking more to the picnic basket than to him. “I… care for you. A great deal.”

He took your hand, and you dared to lift your gaze. He beamed at you, and then a flash of mischief entered his eyes. “As a friend?”

You scowled at him. “Do you often plan candlelit picnics for your friends, Legolas?”

He laughed and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. They were soft and warm, his breath hot on your skin. “I am teasing, meleth nin.”

Heat crept up your neck and you tried to withdraw your hand. He held fast and planted a line of kisses up, up, up, from your wrist to your elbow to your shoulder. His eyes were almost sparking in the dim, the dots of candlelight flickering in his dark irises. He kissed your jaw and your nose and your temple before dipping his head to capture your lips.

He kissed slow and languid, as though savouring the feeling of you against him. He tasted tart and sweet, no doubt from the berry and honey biscuits you knew he liked to snack on. The strange tension in your stomach snapped and vanished, and you melted under his touch. His growing smile made you giggle and your teeth knocked against his, making him laugh.

“I am curious about what you have in that picnic basket of yours,” he murmured. “There will be time for such enjoyment later.”

A flush coloured your cheeks. “I suppose it would be a waste if we simply ignored all the food I prepared.”

“Though, before we continue, I must ask you a question first,” he said, growing grave and serious. His eyes drifted down to your joined hands, and he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Could you bear being with me, living with me, when part of my heart is forever owned by the sea?”

You reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “My love, could you bear to be with me? If you stay, you will fade.”

“It would be a worse fate to live eternity without you,” he whispered. “That I could not bear.”

“Legolas…” It seemed all the more tragic that he, of all people, should die. He was light and joy and the thought of him growing cold and dim wrenched at your heart. “You deserve to… I cannot…”

“I have made my choice, meleth nin. Let us be happy together.” He cupped your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes were soft, but certain, his touch gentle but sure. He kissed the tip of your nose, chuckling, before he slanted his lips against yours. The kiss was chaste and quick, and all the more sweeter for its casualness.

“For however long we have,” he murmured, “let us be happy.”

“Alright,” you said. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent, breathing his breath. Yours, for now, for ever. “For however long we have.”

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ok but what is it about the immortality of elves that has me appreciating/relishing/romanticising our mortal lives. i swear this is the second time ive done this with legolas.

Taglist: @sotwk

#vaya what do your elf eyes see?!! a fucking fantastic fic #legolas x reader #queue you fools!

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zappedbyzabka · 3 months ago

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Saw a spoiler for the new TKK: turns out Billy is actually in the movie, and they allude that the next Karate Kid after Li is the one Daniel gets Johnny pregnant with at the end of the movie after Daniel comes back from NY and they have a passionate tussle on the mat. Sorry for the spoilers but it's important y'all know.

#i'm being so serious #insane plot #Yeah I bet you thought I was being serious I until I got to the pregnant part #I wish it were true lmao #Sorry VERY lame April fools joke #Mpreg central #queue

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occasional-wott-bros · 3 months ago

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No more wotts, everybody go home, sorry

#april fools #occasional-wott-bros #queue t pie #not an ask #mod speaks #vulpix #pockratte #this is actually a sneak peek of an update too #I’m hilarious I think #if you read the tags you just lost The Game

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entishramblings · 2 years ago

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I WASN’T PREPARED FOR THE EMOTIONAL TURMOIL—OKAY?!!!?!

The air was thick with the smell of loss, cold weapons and shed blood

I am obsessed with this line. The imagery it provides is spectacular. Valar—

he blinked really hard a couple of times and really focused on the faraway memories of his home, he would wake up back in the Shire, and by some divine magic [y/n] would be there, radiant and happy. And alive. Right? Right.

OH MY HEART! I am sobbing. The little questioning line of “right? right.” Is really what just sent me into despair AHHH

Borderline stupid bravery seemed to be reserved for anything but telling [y/n] that he loved her so ardently that it shook him to the core of his being

Oh my valar— This is just so powerful. And I love seeing an insight in pippins brain. I feel like he is often dismissed as childlike and not having true adult emotions. But like. This. Just this.

“i can’t lose y’ now,” he confessed hastily, hit by the realization that every second was, though short, of incredible importance. “Not before telling you that I love you, even if I think it’s hopeless, even if there are so many better people for you to love… but I do, and I would have been happy just being your friend, j-just being near y’ for the rest of time.”

Okay I guess I didn’t need my heart then 😭😭😭😭

“I wanted to show you the Shire and the bluest lake I’ve ever seen,” he sobbed in a feeble attempt to comfort both himself and the fatigued girl in his arms, “a–and there’s this tree with really big butterflies - you would’ve loved them - and I wanted to keep making you laugh until you forgot how to be sad at all.”

I can see this in my head to vividly. How he’s just discribinng the shire bc he wants her to pass to something beuatiful. GOODBYE. IM DYING. IM CRYING. IM GONE.

Valar— this was so beautifully filled with despair. I wasn’t ready for it but DEAR LORD. The emotions were coursing through my veins like a painful drug. AHHH. This fic made me feels things. I hate it but I love it. Like gosh. Transformed me. I swear.

hopeless (Pippin x f!reader) pt. 1

a/n: for all of you who asked for the Pippin fic... BEHOLD. and please don't hate me for making you cry. and please give love to this fic cause i put a lot of it into the story. I am open to negotiations about a part 2. ♥️ I love him sm and I WILL put him into the most terrible situation 😩 I recommend this song to keep you company!

“You were being so brave” she breathed out in a hoarse whisper. Every word seemed to hurt and the harsh reality started to sink in - perhaps the battle-stricken fields were going to be the last place she would ever see.

The air was thick with the smell of loss, cold weapons and shed blood. With what little strength she had left she struggled to move her arm and lift a bruised hand to trail across Pippin's dusty cheek. Time seemed to be frozen, and somehow simultaneously running relentlessly. By Valar, why wasn’t there more of it? Suddenly the whole strenuous quest seemed to be painfully too short.

“I am so…proud of you,” she let out with a broken little smile, trying to stop her lower lip from quivering; whether from blinding physical pain or heartbreak, it was impossible to tell. The pain from the stab wound in her side was slowly extinguishing her will to move, speak, even to breathe.

The ringing in Pippin's ears was an unsettling mixture of echoes of battle noises, his own heartbeat, and her usually resonant, joyful voice now being a strained whisper. This couldn’t be happening.

If he blinked really hard a couple of times and really focused on the faraway memories of his home, he would wake up back in the Shire, and by some divine magic [y/n] would be there, radiant and happy. And alive. Right? Right.

Perhaps not.

Even after he blinked, she was still lying sprawled half on the rough terrain, half in his panicked arms. Was it going to be the last time he’d see the glint in her captivating eyes?

Although he wasn’t sure whether she considered him just a good friend, a comforting presence and a guaranteed good laugh, or she might have loved him in a different way, for all he knew it wasn’t going to matter anymore.

Of all the times Pippin had been impulsive in unimportant situations, he could never bring himself to be like that in the moments when it might have changed something. Borderline stupid bravery seemed to be reserved for anything but telling [y/n] that he loved her so ardently that it shook him to the core of his being. Apparently the perfect moment to do it was thrust upon him in the most gruesome way.

Love was the quiet exchange of an inside joke, a giggle muffled by a hand over the mouth, just as much as it was the twist of a knife and a tunic drenched in blood.

“Please,” he finally stuttered out, blinking away the tears with little success, “y-you can’t-” he breathed in sharply, breath hitching in his throat. One of his hands found a way to her tangled hair to move it out of her face, and found her cheeks to be damp with tears too. It was more than enough for the remainder of his courage and usually unwavering optimism to dissipate.

A flurry of memories came flooding back when her chapped lips offered him a sad smile.

She secretly passing him a small share of her food, as a substitute for the second breakfast Aragorn had dismissed.

The way that she confided in him when she was struggling on the journey and how he was ready to make an absolute fool of himself in order to make her crack a smile.

Every time Merry had made fun of him for how shamelessly he wanted to be near her and talk to her.

How she laughed with just a pinch of disbelief when the two of them told her exaggerated stories of their mischievous undertakings (and how he was convinced she was looking at him just a bit more often out of the two).

Her voice in tune with his when she joined him if he was quietly singing to himself as a distraction from the creeping darkness mingled with despair.

Sleeping on the rough forest floor was all the more bearable if she was peacefully breathing just an arm’s reach away from him.

Her kindness and complete lack of judgment whenever he messed something up unintentionally, and how he criticized himself for being a disappointment in front of the most enchanting person in all of Middle-earth.

Every time he joined her during her shift of the night watch; even when he was really sleepy, spending time with her was better than the coziest sleep.

The struggle of coming up with compliments worthy of her beauty.

Marveling together at the magical trees in Lórien, too excited to sleep.

Her willingness to stay up and ramble on about anything until he could fall asleep again after looking into the palantír.

And how she promised she will stay in Gondor as long as he was there, making him feel a little less small and a little less alone surrounded by a bunch of human strangers.

Pippin paused for a moment to catch his breath, and [y/n] found his hand that was on her cheek, putting her own over it weakly.

“And I’m sorry and I-I know it doesn’t make sense,” he gestured vaguely at their surroundings with his free hand, “none of this does. But I can't let you go without telling you that somebody really loves you through it, even if it is just me.” At that point he was fully crying - why hold it back anymore - and she felt so, so overwhelmingly tired.

For a reason he couldn’t pinpoint, he felt incredibly guilty for throwing all those confessions at her at once; but before he was able to apologize profusely, with her last bit of strength [y/n] tangled her fingers in his tousled curls and pulled him down to shakily brush a kiss against his forehead; so weak that it was barely a kiss, but at least it was anything at all, before the world she’d loved and fought for faded to black under her heavy eyelids.

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings

@thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @sillyvampireboi @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth

#vaya what do your elf eyes see?!! a fucking fantastic fic #pippin x reader #queue you fools!

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inalandofsadclowns · 1 year ago

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Come now, I couldn’t have been the only one expecting Merlin to pull a full on stand-up show at Annis’ feast, like… Yeah, that guy’s ‘bout to roast Arthur to literal coal dust, like any good for something medieval fool would do and Arthur would have to laugh through it cause THAT’S HIS COURT JESTER THAT’S HIS FUCKING JOB or at least so Annis thought

#i’m not actually a specialist in fools pls don’t come for me if you are #but I literally thought this was gonna happen in that scene #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #enough you're going in the queue

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martyrbat · 5 months ago

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the batman's grave #10

don't make fun of his T-voice :(

#also 'THE Batman' always reminds me of 'thats MISTER faggot to you'#going through panels and my 3k drafts and this comic series was so bad....#please dont be fooled by it being in my queue and me trying to get rid of my panels its just heavy copaganda with batman sprinkled in...#its my job to cherrypick scenes out so you can avoid the slog that is batman getting the worse writers alive 👍#c: the batman's grave | i: 10 #crypt's panels #batman #(id in alt. as always <3)

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entishramblings · 2 years ago

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This fic was very cute!!!!!

Oh Valar—I would give anything to have lady Galadriel hold me while I sobbed my eyes out. Gay way? Maybe. But not in this context ofc bc like she’s the readers mom. Dear lord. I digress.

“Some pain we are meant to feel, hína nîn. It reminds us that we are alive.” Galadriel’s voice was soft but ever wise. “Your ability is to heal physical wounds, not the wounds of the heart. That is something someone must heal on their own.”

Okay I’m obsessed with this super power of healing and I love that you are exploring the mental toll it is taking on the reader to only be able to heal physical wounds. Espically bc mental wounds can cause even more pain. Oh gods what if you explored the concept of how mental wounds/health affects people physically and how the reader’s magic could work on that??? Omg I need to stop with the tangents.

“…You have forgotten that you are no longer just your mother’s daughter. You are my wife. I am your husband. Your life is mine and mine yours. You are taking a risk without assessing my concerns and it is wrong. This is wrong. You, are wrong.”

Okay but like why is this lowkey hot? daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. ASDFGHJKL I love me some angst

Lady Galadriel was the only one on Middle Earth to have seen the trees, but Haldir swore sometimes he could see them in her daughter’s eyes, like now as she smiled at him and leaned forward, nuzzling her nose to his.

I’m obsessed with this line.

This fic was so adorable! I love how you wrote the dialogue as if Tolkien himself wrote it! Fantastic!!!

A Broken Heart Must Be Healed On Its Own

Haldir of Lórien x Reader

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: But the pairing of Galadriel's daughter and Haldir is just *mwah* perfection! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was, the first week of winter by the time she made it home from Erebor. The air had chilled considerably, and most mornings were covered in a fine layer of frost before the winter sun warmed the land. Lothlórien was never known to have true snowfall like other places, as Lady Galadriel’s magic, and the forest itself was an eternal spring and autumn, but sometimes, she would awaken in the mornings, when the moon was still in the sky, and tiny snowflakes would decorate the kingdom outside.

Oddly enough, it seemed winter had blessed Lothlorien with a bit of snowfall as she quietly crossed back into the realm and under the veil of her mother’s protection. Her heart still ached, as it would no doubt for centuries after, but even elves like she knew that sometimes, time healed even the deepest of wounds.

She arrived, greeting the elves who bowed for her and ascended the stairs to her mother and father’s chambers. As if her mother knew she was coming, and she did—always did, the eyes of Lady Galadriel met hers, and she all at once was overcome with a great grief, crystal tears filling her eyes as she dropped her bag and fell into her mother’s arms.

Lady Galadriel said nothing, save quiet hums as she caressed her daughter’s head, already knowing the tragedy that had befallen the land east of Mirkwood—word had always travelled fast, as did magic. The adventure was one her daughter had to go on, to find something of worth for herself, not in material items, but within her heart and soul, and she knew that her daughter had found it, even at the expense of such deep emotion.

It was quite a long while before the tears finally dried and she lay against her mother’s shoulder, no longer sniffling, but staring blankly at the land outside the arches. “I am deeply grieved, mother,” she whispered. “For my own loss, but the pain of my friends, grieves me too.”

“Yes,” Galadriel murmured.

“I wish I could take their pain from them. It hurts me that I cannot heal their hearts.” She shifted as much she could, trying to get closer to her mother. “What good is my ability to heal if I cannot heal the broken hearts of the ones I love?”

Her mother’s hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing delicately over her skin. “Some pain we are meant to feel, hína nîn. It reminds us that we are alive.” Galadriel’s voice was soft but ever wise. “Your ability is to heal physical wounds, not the wounds of the heart. That is something someone must heal on their own.”

Pulling away, she looked at her mother, searching for something in her gaze and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“I am proud of you though, hína nîn,” Galadriel said. “For you have done what was right. Stood up against evil in many forms to do justice. You have made us all here so honored.”

“I have only tried to live up to your own standard, mother,” she smiled halfheartedly, and Galadriel merely offered a smile of her own.

“You love has waited quite a long time for you to return home. Perhaps you should go and see him.” her mother gave her a knowing look. “It is, after all, the first time you have ever left with anger in your heart.”

She nodded, letting out a sigh. “I shall, but I would like to see father first. I wish for his comfort as well.”

Galadriel nodded, helping her daughter to her feet before taking her arm in hers, leading her to her father.

***

It was nightfall by the time she returned to the quarters she and her love shared. There was still an ache in her heart, but it had slowly begun to heal, as if the love from her mother and father was magic in and of itself. She pushed open the door, greeted by the sight of her husband bent over a desk, papers surrounding him as he rubbed at his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose. It reminded her of their last talk before she left.

“I simply mean I do not think this is a wise decision.”

“And I recognize this. Do not think that the mere danger of this quest is somehow beyond me, Haldir, or do you forget that I was once face to face with a terrible evil once?”

“That is not what I mean to say, and you know that.”

“I know what you mean. You do not want me going.”

“Of course I do not! You could die! Do you any how grieved all of Lórien would be if you did?”

“Life is not lived without its risks. This is something I must do.”

“Please, my love, do not go. I do not wish for you to put yourself into harm’s way as such where I cannot protect you.”

“I unfortunately cannot acquiesce to your desire, Haldir. I am leaving with Mithrandir at dawn.”

“I do not think you understand! You need—”

“Let go of my arm lest you lose it, Haldir.”

“Then I will be wrong. But this is something I must do, and you will not stand in my way, husband or no.”

“Fine. Go then. If something befalls you so horrible that you do not come home to me, then you will know I was right.”

She huffed quietly and leaned against one of the pillars in their common room. “To think, my great, Marchwarden husband has met his final downfall, and it is not an enemy blade, but reports.”

Haldir jumped at her voice, startled eyes meeting hers as he rose from the desk, fingers touching the papers, but he didn’t move from behind it. “You—” he fell silent, gathering himself as his eyes became hidden. “I had heard you made it back to Lórien.”

“Yes,” she said, walking over to where a glass pitcher was; she poured two glasses of crimson wine and held it out for him. “Forgive the delay, I had to see Mithrandir and Bilbo back to the Shire.”

He came around the desk and took the glass but didn’t drink from it even as he watched her do so. “I heard of what happened…the battle…the dwarves. To think that you were in the middle of such a battle, I—I cannot even begin to fathom such a fearsome sight.”

She blinked slowly, gazing out towards the night. “Yes…a great sadness it was. My heart weeps for my loss and for my friend’s losses too.”

“Meleth nîn,” he begged. “For what purpose did you go on this adventure? Was such grief and sadness worth it?”

Looking at him, she smiled with great sorrow. “You still have yet to understand.” She turned, sitting on the bench, and gestured for him to do so; when he did, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Losing someone I love, is something I know well.”

“Your sister…”

“Mhm. But the loss of my sister is different from the loss of Thorin, Fili, and Kili. That was a loss I was not familiar with. That of losing a friend. Someone who I shared values, hopes, and great friendships with.”

Haldir was confused. “You went on this journey…so you would know what it was like to lose a friend?”

“You have lost friends before, Haldir. You know what it is like to grieve a fallen brother or sister in arms.”

“Well, yes, but—"

“You have no doubt heard of my mother and brother-in-law’s battle in Dol Guldur. Sauron has returned. Perhaps not in full form just yet like he was ages earlier, but he will come back to great power soon. Loss of many things and people we hold dear is coming, my life. I wished to be prepared for that loss before it happened.” She sighed heavily, feeling the dull ache in her chest again. “But my poor heart was not as prepared as I thought for the losses of my much-loved dwarves. There is a deep pit within my heart, not only for my own loss, but for the feeling of grief that my other friends felt.”

He took her hand in his and thumbed the back of it. “I am sorry for your loss, my love. I wish it is a pain I could carry for you.”

She hummed low in her throat and turned her head up, looking at him. “Haldir, my husband, I ask your forgiveness. In the end, you were right. I am my mother’s daughter, but I am also your wife. And I should have heeded your concerns more cautiously. I am sorry I did not, and that I hurt you. Of all my grief, hurting you is what has caused me the most pain. I never meant to, and I am so sorry.”

Haldir tipped his head to the side, a sad but fond look on his face as he smiled and replied, “Then I must ask your forgiveness as well. I should not have taken my anger out and spoken ill of your journey. To be so jaded to you…it was unworthy of someone who is to love you wholeheartedly.”

“Melin gin, Haldir,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes, reaching up to cup her cheek, once more so glad to hold his wife in his arms.

“And I you, meleth nîn, from this age, to the next, and until the end of all time.” He gently tipped her head up and pressed his lips to hers. “I prayed for your safety every day,” he murmured as he pulled back, resting his forehead to hers. “I watched as you left the forest and all I thought was that I said such horrid things and I had no way of knowing if your journey would be your last.”

She hummed and he opened his eyes, gazing into hers as she professed, “Not even all the hellish forces of Utumno could keep me from coming back to you, Haldir.” Pulling away, she rose from the bench, stood before him, and held out her hands, waiting for him to place his in hers. As he did, she squeezed them tight. “I swear to you, here and now, under the light of my mother’s forest, I will never again stray so far that you do not know where I will go. And should I go, then we shall go together.”

Haldir stood to his feet, a burning passion in his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “And I to you, that I will never again let you go alone. Wherever we go, we go together.” He smiled so widely at her, taking her face in his hands. “I have missed you so greatly, meleth nîn.”

“And I you, my life.” She pulled them towards the bed. “Rest with me and in the morning, I shall tell you all about my adventure.”

“I do not wish to cause grief, my love.”

“You will not,” she promised. “Besides, there and back? It is a tale worth telling for many ages to come.” Her eyes twinkled. “I fought against many things. Orcs, spiders, dragons. So many.”

“Did you win?”

“Of course!”

They fell into bed and Haldir held her as she snuggled into his chest; kissing her head, he said softly, “Rest, meleth nîn. I will watch for you.”

#vaya what do your elf eyes see?!! a fucking fantastic fic #haldir x reader #queue you fools!

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