#frodo and sam's hug just hits me deep

[nymphaforesta]

brb gonna go watch the final scene of lotr so I can cry non-stop<3333

#frodo and sam's hug just hits me deep

[elvish-sky]

It's Not a Wedding Without a Food Fight {Éowyn x Reader}

A.N: So the slouching thing was inspired by another request I got, but the request was for platonic Legolas and Aragorn and this is not so I will be writing another more in depth one with that! But this was great to write- I haven’t written much lately so this was an awesome piece to get back into things with. I really hope you guys like it!

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: hhhm can I request any female character x fem!reader? the fandom desperately more femslash content sjfjsgsk

Word Count: 1,823

Summary: You and Eowyn are about to get married.

Pairings: Eowyn x Fem!Reader, Aragorn x Legolas

Warnings: Fluff, Humor

****

It’s Not a Wedding Without a Food Fight

Laughing, you strolled hand in hand with your fiance down the hallway. Tomorrow was your wedding day, and as you were the adopted sister of the newly crowned King of Gondor, and Eowyn was the Princess of Rohan, it was going to be quite the event.

But tonight, the night before, was just for you. You were headed to a small family dinner with the Fellowship, Eomer, and Faramir, one last gathering with them before you were married.

As a fun surprise, you and Eowyn had picked each other’s outfits for the night. She was wearing a light yellow dress that matched her hair, embroidery-less but cut in a way that accentuated her perfectly, with a golden circlet crowning her head. You were her opposite, in pale blue with a silver circlet that matched the one she wore while still paying homage to your brother. You had laughed at each other’s clothing choices when you first saw them, chuckling at how somehow you matched.

Reaching the end of the hallway, you pushed open the double doors to see all your friends sitting around a table. Merry and Pippin were at opposite ends of the table (as everyone knew that you had to separate them if you wanted an event to be slightly less chaotic- although they were sitting together at the wedding tomorrow. You hoped that wasn’t a mistake). Boromir (who had survived his wounds at the hands of the orcs), Faramir, and Eomer had their heads bent together in some deep discussion, and Frodo and Sam were contently sipping their ale with Gandalf. Legolas and Aragorn seemed to be bickering about something, and Gimli, seated between them, just looked annoyed.

You paused in the doorway for a moment, holding Eowyn back, just looking at all your friends alive and happy. You wouldn’t have thought it possible that you’d all be here, and that you yourself was getting married. To the most beautiful woman alive.

Eowyn noticed your thoughts drifting and squeezed your hand, bringing you back to the present to see your brother smiling up at you, no one else having noticed your presence.

And then, with Pippin’s shout of, “Y/N! Eowyn! You both look great,” everyone was pushing back benches and stools and coming over to hug the both of you and escort you to your seats.

You sat between your brother and Gimli, Eowyn next to Eomer and Boromir several seats down.

“What’s going on?” You asked Gimli, gesturing to the elf and human arguing over your heads.

“It’s the posture thing again, lass. They’ve been at it for ten minutes.” The dwarf shook his head.

Ahhhh. The posture thing. It had started in Rivendell when the Fellowship had first formed, and had been going on ever since. Even when the two had started courting, the human still bothered the elf about it. Aragorn was very bothered by people with bad posture. You had grown up with him constantly nudging your back whenever you slouched, and the constant whisper of “Postuuure,” in a singsong voice. You felt bad for Legolas, but you had to admit Aragorn’s nagging had helped you. Your back literally never hurt.

“Seriously, Legolas, stop slouching,” Aragorn hissed.

The elf sighed. “Aragorn. You leave me no choice.”

You watched, wide eyed, as Legolas grabbed a handful of food and smashed it into Aragorn’s hair.

“FOOD FIGHT!” Came the expected yell from Pippin, and with that everyone was standing and grabbing food and throwing it at whoever was closest.

Even Gandalf was participating, somehow managing to hit Pippin repeatedly in the back of the head with roasted potatoes. Aragorn and Legolas were attacking each other as fiercely as they would orcs on the battlefield, smashing food in the other's face.

Laughing, you ducked under the table for a moment to catch a break, and found Eowyn with a stockpile of food.

“I was waiting for you to come down here!” She had a mischievous smirk, and you quirked an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting. When Pippin got up and yelled I grabbed all the food I could and hid under here. Want to surprise attack everyone?”

You nodded. “This is why I fell in love with you!”

She laughed. “Three, two, one!”

On one you exploded from under each side of the table, hurling food at anything that moved. You hit your brother right in the face, got Legolas’ hair covered in something, and backed Boromir and Eomer into a corner with the amount of food thrown at them, Faramir laughing in the background.

Finally, after everyone was completely covered, you and your soon-to-be-wife climbed onto the table.

“Who are the champions?” Eowyn asked.

Boromir groaned. “You are. You are very much the champions.”

You grinned. “Now that we’ve established that, who wants to help us clean all this up?”

Everyone rose, and helped you clean up the huge mess you’d made. After, everyone made their way to their rooms, tired.

You entered your bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it. Tomorrow you would be married. To the best woman alive. You smiled as you went to your wardrobe, donning your nightclothes while gazing at the wedding gown you couldn’t wait to wear. You fell asleep with the wardrobe still open, eyes fixed on that symbol of your future.

“Y/N! WAKE UP!” Was the first thing you heard the next morning, accompanied by a cacophony of knocks at your door.

“What,” you groaned, rolling over.

“It’s Pippin! Sam’s with me! We brought breakfast!”

“Fine. Come in.” You sat up, rubbing your eyes as they opened the door.

The smell of eggs and toast wafted in with them as Sam set the tray at your desk. You got up and padded over, sitting in the comfy chair.

“Thank you both very much for this!”

The hobbits beamed.

“That’s not all, Y/N!” Pippin told you. “Frodo and I are both very good at doing hair, so Frodo and Merry went to Eowyn to give her breakfast and do her hair, and we came to you!”

You beamed at them. “That’s awesome! I have absolutely no plans for my hair, so go right ahead.”

Pippin nodded at you and set to work, him and Sam keeping up a stream of cheerful chatter.

Once finished, Pippin showed you to the mirror and you gasped. The hobbit really knew what he was doing, it looked lovely.

“Thank you both so much!”

“Happy to, Miss. Y/N! Now, we’re going to let you finish getting ready. Aragorn will come by and get you once the ceremony is about to start,” Sam told you.

You waved as they closed the door behind them, then set your eyes on the dress. It was time to finish getting ready.

You slowly rotated in front of your mirror, admiring yourself. The white dress was long enough to hit the floor in the front, with a train that stretched back. The bodice had silver edging along the v-neck, and you knew that Eowyn’s was edged with gold.

Hearing a knock at the door, you opened it to see Aragorn, crown gleaming, waiting for you.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. Eowyn’s going to love you.”

“I know!” You laughed, looping your arm through the one he offered and setting off.

You walked down the aisle on your brother’s arm, beaming at your soon-to-be-wife who stood next to Gandalf at the front. You glided past friends whispering words of congratulations, gripping your bouquet with one hand and Aragorn with the other, up past the Fellowship seated at the front who had become your family. As Aragorn took your hand, placing it in Eowyn’s, you looked into her eyes and knew the two of you were going to be so happy together.

After the ceremony, after you had kissed your wife with petals raining down on you, you made your way to the party together. When you opened the double doors, cheers rang out and the two of you kissed once more.

You drank, and sang, and ate, and generally had a lovely time. You were torn out of a conversation with Legolas by Eomer shouting out for silence.

“In Rohan, we have a tradition that anyone who is not married gathers together and the bride throws the bouquet over her head. It’s said that whoever catches is will be the next to be married!”

You looked over to Eowyn, who smiled and gestured for you to join her as Eomer corralled everyone into a group at the other end of the room. He counted down, “THREE, TWO,” and on “ONE” you and your wife threw your bouquets in synchrony.

Turning, you burst into laughter as you saw who held the bouquets. Aragorn, looking a little amused but mostly very nervous as he held one bouquet, was staring at Legolas, who stood next to him with the other clutched in his arms, an identical expression on his face.

Boromir whistled, laughing with you at the two of them. “Guess we’ll be hosting another royal wedding soon enough!”

Aragorn was blushing like mad, glancing over at Legolas shyly. You didn’t think you had ever seen Aragorn be shy before. But as you looked on, Legolas strode over and pulled Aragorn into a kiss, fingers tangling in his hair. Another cheer went around the room as they broke apart, both flushed.

As you made your way over to your brother to make fun of him, you heard him whisper to Legolas, “But don’t think you’re off the hook with that posture.” You laughed.

The party wound down later, people leaving with congratulations to you and your wife and wishes for a happy marriage. Aragorn and Legolas had snuck off somewhere after the whole bouquet thing, which you were not at all surprised by, and the rest of the Fellowship had headed out or looked ready to do so.

You grabbed Eowyn’s hand, and with a wave to Gandalf, Boromir, and Eomer, the only people left, the two of you exited the room. You made your way through the halls to the room you would now share, that had been prepared by your families.

Opening the doors together, you gasped in unison. It was perfect. A door led to a balcony and you walked out hand in hand. The moon shone down like a spotlight on the two of you as you turned back to look at your room.

“So, my wife, what do you think?” Eowyn asked.

“I’m shocked that our brothers were able to make something this beautiful, but I love it. Also, I suspect Legolas helped.”

Her laughter rang through the air, and then she leaned in. In the moment before her lips touched yours, she whispered “I love you.” And then you kissed.

When you broke apart, the only thing you could say was, “I love you, too.” And then you kissed her again.

Everything tag ❤️: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

#maiawrites #eowyn #princess eowyn #eowyn x reader #eowyn x you #eowyn x y/n #eowyn imagine #eowyn one shot #eowyn of rohan #eowyn fanfiction #eowyn fanfic #eowyn fic #lord of the rings #the hobbit #jrr tolkien

[arkaniist]

I wrote 2.5k words about Tolkien, WWI, Le Morte d’Arthur, the Iliad and Odyssey, and more, all bundled happily in an essay about queer subtext in the Lord of the Rings revolving around the relationship between Sam and Frodo. I posted about this before, and someone asked me to post the essay, so here it is!

Homoerotic Subtext in the Lord of the Rings

In June of 1916, J. R. R. Tolkien shipped out from England to France to join his comrades on the Western Front. In July, he would participate in one of the bloodiest struggles of World War 1, the Battle of the Somme. Just a month later, he would be struck with Trench Fever, placing him in convalescence or behind a desk for the remainder of the war. Though his front-line experience was short, there is no denying the effect that the war and the loss of his closest friends had on Tolkien, nor the influence it had on his writing in the post-war years. Much has been written on that topic already. However, there is one aspect of Tolkien’s time in the service which is underexplored when it comes to the literary critique of his legendarium – of which the Lord of the Rings is but a piece – and that is his exposure to the widespread homoerotic attitudes which were a common undercurrent in the British armed forces during that time.

Homosexuality has always been an overlooked behavior on the front during wartime, even as it passed from common practice to taboo. One reason for this might be that people who are worried about being shot to death in a trench have other things to worry about besides who their mates might be kissing. Another might be that facing death brings a greater appreciation for love to the front of the mind, and it does not matter which gender that appreciation is directed towards. As a result, we find many examples in literature and letters of men expressing chaste but deep homoerotic love for other men. In The Great War and Modern Memory, Paul Fussel writes that in WWI-era battlefield poetry, one could not fail to notice ‘the unique physical tenderness, the readiness to admire openly the bodily beauty of young men, the unapologetic recognition that men may be in love with each other.’ (303). “War poetry has the subversive tendency to be our age’s love poetry.” he quotes Richard Fein. In that case, we must examine war literature for the same sentiments.

Most common in officers towards their men, we find ‘something more like the “idealistic,” passionate but non-physical “crushes” which most of the officers had experienced at public school. … What inspired such passions was — as always — faunlike good looks, innocence, vulnerability, and “charm.” The object was mutual affection, protection, and admiration.’ (Fussel 295) This makes sense, as ‘the tradition in Victorian homosexuality and homoeroticism [is] that soldiers are especially attractive. What makes them so is their youth, their athleticism, their relative cleanliness, their uniforms, and their heroic readiness, like Adonis or St. Sebastian, for “sacrifice.”’ (Fussel 302) In the Lord of the Rings, we find Frodo described as ‘taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.’ (Tolkien 163). At his coming-of-age birthday party, he inherits the great evil that is the One Ring from his great uncle; he is an unintentional sacrificial lamb. Later, when he volunteers to take the One Ring to Mt. Doom knowing that it is likely a one-way trip if he can even make it that far, we find in our protagonist a young, beautiful, self-sacrificing hero.

Fussel writes that ‘although the usual course of protective affection was from superior to subordinate, sometimes the direction was reversed, with men developing hero-worshipping crushes on their young officers.’ (297) Enter Frodo’s counterpart and co-protagonist, Samwise Gamgee. Tolkien wrote in a 1956 letter to a fan that “My ‘Samwise’ is indeed (as you note) largely a reflexion [sic] of the English soldier—grafted on the village-boys of early days, the memory of the privates and my batmen that I knew in the 1914 War, and recognized as so far superior to myself.” (Letter 187)

A batman, in military parlance, was a soldier who, as well as fighting, oversaw an officer’s kit, cooking, and cleaning. (Garth) However, Sam is so much more than Frodo’s servant, though they start the journey as master of the house and gardener. Sam shows an incredible dedication to Frodo that cannot be explained as mere class-based loyalty. Take this passage from Return of the King when the enemy has captured Frodo. The Hobbits are separated, and Sam is up against what seems like impossible odds – faced with the task of raiding an entire tower he assumes is filled with enemies, alone, armed only with a short sword. He does not even know where Frodo is or if he is still alive:

‘… Except for that little frightened rat, I do believe there’s nobody left alive in the place!’

And with that he stopped, brought up hard, as if he had hit his head against the stone wall. The full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow. Nobody left alive! Whose had been that horrible dying shriek? ‘Frodo, Frodo! Master!’ he cried, half sobbing. ‘If they’ve killed you, what shall I do? Well, I’m coming at last, right to the top, to see what I must.’ (Tolkien 887)

… He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that was ever spawned. He longed only for his master, for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand. (Tolkien 889)

Besides demonstrating Sam’s willingness to face certain death rather than leave Frodo, this passage is a perfect illustration of another one of Tolkien’s literary inspirations besides the Great War. Tolkien was a scholar of European mythology, drawing inspiration for his legendarium from epic myths like the Old English Beowulf and the Finnish Kalevala. Read the following lines from Le Morte d’Arthur regarding King Arthur’s death:

Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies? … And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the forest… (Mallory, Book 21 ch. V.)

Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried in this chapel. Then Sir Bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him still there, to live with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir Bedivere, by my will, but all the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur. (Mallory, Book 21 ch. VI.)

These Medieval warrior relationships themselves draw from an even older literary tradition, one with not so much covert homoerotism but overt homosexuality. Ancient homosexual pederastic relationships like that of Alexander and Hephaestion or Achilles and Patroclus form the model for many close male warrior literary relationships. Compare Achilles’ reaction to Patroclus’ death in the Iliad to that of Bedivere to Arthur’s and Sam to Frodo’s:

A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened. He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely face, and letting the refuse settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with his hands. … Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping and holding both Achilles’ hands as he lay groaning for Antilochus feared that Achilles might plunge a knife into his own throat. (Homer, Book XVIII)

Near-suicidal grief at the loss of the beloved is a common theme between the three of them. Achilles lives to avenge Patroclus, Bedivere lives to pray for Arthur’s soul, and Sam, as luck and Tolkien would have it, lives to save Frodo, who was not dead after all, though it was a close thing. Sam’s joy at finding Frodo alive is as poignant as his grief at having thought he lost him – unashamed physical affection and more tears follow the discovery of his master.

[Frodo] was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags: his arm was flung up, shielding his head, and across his side there ran an ugly whip-weal.

‘Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!’ cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. ‘It’s Sam, I’ve come!’ He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast.

…

‘Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam’s gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.

Sam felt he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him. He kissed Frodo’s forehead. (Tolkien 889)

Tolkien’s earlier description of Sam as a combination of village boy and batman fits neatly with Fussel’s declaration that ‘to the degree that front-line homoeroticism was sentimental it can be seen to constitute another element of pastoral.’ (Fussel 300) In the Lord of the Rings, the Shire – Sam and Frodo’s home – represents the ultimate ideal of Pastoralism. In the Shire, Hobbits live community-focused rural lives with minimal conflict, drinking and feasting and partying, with little to no exposure to more advanced societies of the East. In that light, the entire quest of the Lord of the Rings can be seen as a removal from the Pastoral – the world becomes darker, less hospitable, and less natural the further East the Hobbits travel until they reach their end goal: a blighted, unnatural wasteland dominated by machinery.

As Frodo falls further and further under the sway of the One Ring, he forgets the Shire. He loses his connection to his pastoral home. Nevertheless, ever at his side is his loyal Sam, who recalls even in the darkest moments the comforts of home. Sam is Frodo’s link to the pastoral ideal when his suffering is the greatest. Sam’s yearning for the pastoral often comes up in the form of recalling Frodo as he was in the Shire. This is exemplified by the following passage near the end of their quest, just after the One Ring has been destroyed:

‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.

‘Master!’ cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. (Tolkien 926)

While Sam represents and thus easily returns to an idyllic pastoral existence after the war, Frodo remains haunted by his experiences. Finally, we reach the real end of Frodo and Sam’s journey, the temporary separation before the eternal unification. Frodo and Sam go to see off Frodo’s uncle, and there Frodo reveals he will be passing into the West as well – a form of eternal life in Middle Earth, but one that is forever separate from the rest of the world:

‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood, what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. … You will … keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more.’ (Tolkien 1006)

Here we see Frodo acknowledge that this separation splits Sam’s spirit – part of Sam goes to his home and family, but part always goes with Frodo. Frodo encourages him to live the rest of his life fully in the Shire, and when the time has come, he can reunite with Frodo in the ‘afterlife.’ Contrast this to Patroclus’ final request of Achilles in the Iliad:

“One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let not my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with them; … let our bones lie in but a single urn, the two-handled golden vase given to you by your mother.” (Homer, Book XXIII)

Furthermore, the resolution in the Odyssey, as Odysseus reassures Achilles that his will was done:

Your mother brought us a golden vase to hold them—gift of Bacchus, and work of Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of Patroclus who had gone before you… (Homer, Book XXIV)

Return of the King ends with Sam riding home with a heavy heart to his family after watching Frodo’s ship depart to the West. Like the Iliad and Odyssey, we must read a bit further to determine what eventually happens with Frodo and Sam. The Lord of the Rings has a massive amount of supplementary material, including maps and family trees. In Appendix B, we find a chronology of the years before, during, and after the main novels. It reveals that at age 96, after the death of his wife, Samwise rides out to the Havens and passes over the Great Sea to unite with Frodo for the final time.

Queerness is often overlooked in serious examinations of literature, especially when the voices of cishet men dominate the discussion, as they do in Tolkien scholarship. Tolkien scholars have repeatedly dismissed the idea of homoeroticism in Tolkien’s works as silly fangirls making things gay for titillation, which erases queer voices and condemns queerness to the realm of the unrealistic and ahistorical.

I have been a fan of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit since I was queer child struggling with gender identity and sexual attraction. In sixth grade, I received my first copy of the Lord of the Rings, and I read it voraciously until the pages started to fall out. Although I did not fully recognize the homoerotic undertones back then, I still yearned for the deep, lasting, emotionally fulfilling, and life-changing same-sex relationships I saw in those books. Even 20 years later, as a queer adult, the idea that I might share something so intensely personal with my heroes is vitally important to me. J. R. R. Tolkien died in 1973. He was a devout Catholic who maintained a lasting friendship with a gay poet and spoke with great esteem of a novel about gay men written by a lesbian; one can hardly imagine what he might have said about the idea of queer subtext in his writing. But if I, a queer reader, recognize some essential part of myself in Sam or Frodo, if I see my bonds in their bond, is that not enough to warrant an entrance into the discussion and serious consideration? Whether you see their relationship as a purely platonic friendship or a great romance of the ages, Sam and Frodo are in love.

Works Cited

Fussel, Paul. The Great War and Modern Memory. Oxford University Press, 2013

Garth, John. “Sam Gamgee and Tolkien’s batmen.” 13 February 2013, [msg for link].

Homer. The Iliad. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 2000. [msg for link].

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 1999. [msg for link].

Malory, Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur, edited by Caxton, William, and Sir Edward Strachey. Project Gutenberg, 2014. [msg for link].

Tolkien, J. R. R. “Letter 187.” The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Tolkien, Christopher, and Humphrey Carpenter. Houghton Mifflin, 1981.

—. The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollinsPublishers, 1994.

#lord of the rings #lotr #queer theory #queer academia #sam x frodo #samfrodo #samfro #is that the tumblr shipname? #if u wanna cite this anywhere now that i'm officially publishing it (by posting it) u absolutely can #but please credit me as Alex Kakela and not arkaniis lmfao

[cloudravine]

I was tagged by @hiccoops @fallinglouis @sunflowrhaz to do two ask games, thanks so much lovelies! 😚🌈💙

Spell out your url using song titles, then tag as many people as there are letters in your url

The Anthem - Good Charlotte Hallelujah - Paramore Entre deux mondes - Marc Dupré Losing Grip - Avril Lavigne Everybody’s Fool - Evanescence Affection - The All-American Rejects Villain - Hedley Encore une nuit - Marie Mai Seize the Day - Avenged Sevenfold One - Simple Plan Feuer Frei! - Rammstein Love Like Winter - AFI On the Other Side - The Strokes Rette mich - Tokio Hotel Inger ser - Emilush, Caustic & Monte G Earthquake - The Used Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) - Arcade Fire

10 Mid-Depth Questions

1. What is your favourite word?

I love many many German words, including some that have a deep philosophical meaning and/or can’t be translated easily (Schadenfreude, Zeitgeist, Wanderlust, Weltschmerz). 

Since I have synesthesia and can taste words, it logically follows that I usually like words whose taste I enjoy - for example function (date cake with caramel), judge (cubed peach in a can) and establish (fresh dates) 😊  

Other than that, there are quite a few words in English that I just find beautiful for their poetic quality: exquisite, cherish, exude, vermillion, pristine, etc.

2. What is your least favourite word?

I have a mysterious, fierce aversion of the word moist 😂 Like I’m not even kidding when I say I’ve told practically all my friends that it’s black-listed from any future conversations lmao

3. What turns you on?

Someone who’s demonstrative; someone who enjoys talking about feelings and having all sorts of long, deep discussions about things big and small; someone who’s passionate about stuff and eager to share that with me; someone who shows kindness, warmth, understanding, patience and compassion; someone with whom I can fully be myself ❤️

4. What turns you off?

Basically not feeling comfortable, happy and safe around the person

5. What sound or noise do you love?

Harry’s voice is my favourite sound in the whole world, no doubt about it! 💗🌷 Then I’d say my cat’s purrs, and the cello/double bass which essentially pushes an invisible ‘cry on command’ button inside me dhgfhsj 

6. What sound or noise do you hate?

For some unknown reason, I’m extremely sensitive to a few noises to the point of vibrating with anger and aggressivity whenever I’m forced to hear them - especially shushing, loud chewing/breathing/mouth noises and repetitive tapping/hitting/rubbing 🙈

7. What’s your favourite curse word?

At the risk of sounding cliché to SKAM fans, I love drittsekk just bc it literally means “shit bag” in Norwegian and I think that’s brilliant 😂 Also, skit (”shit” in Swedish) is amazing since it actually sounds much too cute and cheerful for a curse word haha 🌸   

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

I don’t have a profession yet, but in terms of trying something that’s not in my field... well I’ve honestly got no idea 🤔 Maybe a music technician or a harp player or a cameraman? 🤓 

9. What profession would you not like to do?

Most things? 😅 Anything not related to literature, languages, music or cinema to some degree would probably end up boring me to death and make me anxious bc I likely wouldn’t be good at it :/ Especially if we’re talking about stuff in science, finance or something similar fhgdfdsf, or jobs involving people that would make me too upset 😪

10. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear god say when you arrive at the pearly gates?

When I die, I hope to go to Valinor so I can spend the rest of eternity with Galadriel, Frodo, Sam, Bilbo, Legolas and Gimli 😍 They would welcome me with warm hugs and bright smiles and tell me “welcome home” 🌟

I’m tagging @technicallysideacc @amantisegreti @goldenfive @theparisinterview @pridesobright @louis-sott @lordtomlinson @jungkookofficials @elsker-norge @ireallysawanangel  @tobeakingbesideyousomehow + the lovely people who tagged me in this! Obviously you can choose to do one, two or none of the games 🌺

#for the songs i decided to go with old faves from my teenage years #god i used to be so obsessed with some of these artists/songs sdjfhd the nostalgia is really hitting 😩💗 #my ass just had a breakdown listening to seize the day again bye #hiccoops #fallinglouis #sunflowrhaz #technicallysideacc #amantisegreti #goldenfive #theparisinterview #pridesobright #louis-sott #lordtomlinson #jungkookofficials #elsker-norge #ireallysawanangel #tobeakingbesideyousomehow #about #interactions

[kittenwritesstuff]

The things we do for love

Fandom: The Lord of The Rings Pairing: Aragorn x reader Genres: angst, mention of injury, fluff Words: 1.710 Summary: Reader gets hurt during a battle and Aragorn takes nursing her back to health upon himself - requested by Anonymous 

It was happening too fast. It was way too intense for you to fathom precisely and with every detail what had transpired.

You were hurt, that was for sure. The burning, sickening pain in your stomach was too vivid for it to not be real. The world around you was spinning fast, the noises coming as though through a thick blanket. Then, you felt as if you were drowning. The sense of reality, of being in a place had left you and you collapsed heavily on the ground, Legolas’ golden locks the last thing your eyes managed to catch before you gave in to the darkness.

______

There is a fire blazing in your guts but you can do nothing to stop it. Your hands are not yours because they do not move when you order them to. Your eyes are not yours for they do not open upon your demand.

You do not belong to yourself. How can you when everything you are built of is a scorching, head-spinning ache? It starts in your belly, yet by now it crept into every cell, every fiber of your body.

“Do not move, Y/N,” a voice sooths gently but do not recognize who is speaking. You cannot think of anything else than unparalleled, unimaginable agony that has taken over your body and mind.

“I will care for you, I will heal you. I promise you that,” the voice assures and somewhere in your mind, a tiny flicker of hope lights up.

Yet, you cannot hold onto it. Once again, you welcome the comforting unconsciousness.

______

“You need to prepare that she might not survive.”

“She will, I know it. I must hope. I must try. If the hands of a king are the hands of a healer, than we shall see what a king I truly am.”

“You are very stubborn, my friend.”

“Gandalf, I cannot give her up, not when she was by my side throughout that journey. Not when she risked her life for all of us.”

“Yet you said nothing-“

“And I won’t say a thing until Y/N’s well. How is Frodo?”

“Lord Elrond has been personally tending to him, and I do believe our hobbit will soon be in a good health again.”

“That’s a good news, a very good news…”

“If I may add-“

“I have already heard it, Gandalf. You don’t have to repeat yourself.”

“If you say so, dear friend. One would think, three simple words, when apart so very easy to say, when together – that’s a different story, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a time for that, not now. She has to be aware, has to hear…”

______

“Mister Strider, can she hear me?”

“I’m not sure, Sam, but you can speak. Maybe you can wake her up, who knows?”

“What should I say?”

“Whatever you wish to.”

“W-what are you doing?!”

“I must change the dressings. Speak to her, it’s calming her.”

“M-miss Y/N, it’s me, Samwise Gamgee. I know it is much to ask, but could you maybe consider returning to us sooner? We all miss you a lot, and Merry cannot wait to hug you!”

“Oh, can he now?”

“Don’t tell him I told that! He’s afraid you’d smack him if you found out.”

“Why would I ever do that, Sam?”

“Well, uhm… you don’t leave her bedside. It does show how much y-you care about her.”

“I do, yes.”

“Did you hear that, Y/N? Mister Strider, too, wants you to be with us!”

“My dear Sam, you cannot imagine how much I wish for her to be back.”

“I miss her, to be frank. The War is over and the Ring is destroyed, times are better. Yet without miss Y/N, I just can’t seem to be fully happy. Do you understand, mister Strider?”

“I do, Sam. And how many times should I tell you to call me by my name?”

“Yes, apologies. Is her wound healing?”

“Slowly, but it does. I do my best, but we need time.”

“I just hope she’ll wake up sooner than later.”

“I hope so, too, Sam.”

______

“You need rest.”

“I don’t. Not until she’s awake.”

“How long have you been staying by her side?”

“A week or so?”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Yes, Sam brought me plenty.”

“She does look better. Less pale. Did the bleeding stop?”

“Yes, two days ago.”

“You’re healing her, Aragorn.”

“I hope it’s true, Legolas, I hope she’s healing because of me. That’s the least I can do to repay. On the battlefield, when she’s got hurt – she was saving me. I know that. I would have-“

“But you have not. And trust me on this – the sooner you tell her, the quicker she opens her eyes.”

“Why is everyone convincing me to speak of my feelings? My hands can heal, not my words.”

“Oh, my friend, have you not learnt by now that words can mend what hands cannot? That maybe it is what Y/N is waiting for?”

“I-I don’t-“

“Are you certain of what your heart wants?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you waiting for, you fool?”

_____

It seems as if everything you feel, everything you hear and experience is only but a dream. It feels like you are dreaming, or your mind decided to flood you with imaginary events to somehow deal with inevitable end.

Yet, it also seems real. You are finally able to move your limbs. Only a bit, a tiny fidget of your finger but you do it.

And it makes Aragorn freeze in place. He is kneeling by the bed you’re lying on, his hands sunk in a bowl with water, his eyes never leaving you.

“Y/N?” he whispers, sure that what he saw was nothing but a fantasy, an imagine produced by his tired mind.

So, you do it again.

“Y/N, do you hear me?”

Unable to form any words, you only make a tiny noise – a breathy moan, barely audible. You hear a shuffling, and a voice comes from somewhere closer now. Aragorn strokes the top of your palm tenderly, a gesture that would surely ignite shivers if you could feel anything more than dull ache.

“You were hit by one of Uruk-hai. The wound was not big or deep, the blade was poisoned and that’s why you were suffering so much. I do hope you’re better now, I did my best…”

“Y/N, please, can you try and open your eyes for me?”

You summon all your strength and order heavy eyelids to lift. They do, slowly and you blink few times to adjust to the light. It is not bright – few candles are lit in otherwise dark room.

You slide your head to the side and your gaze focused on Aragorn – he looks as if he hasn’t slept in ages; his skin is pale, his eyes however shine brightly with relief and warmth.

“I thought I’d lost you…” he pants and carefully moves his hand to cup your face. You clear your throat but it doesn’t help much with harshness you feel in it.  

“How long was I asleep?” you mutter, your voice coarse.

“Ten days.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing. Only hobbits’ antics around Gondor, and an engagement between Éowyn and Faramir.”

“You have not-?”

“No, the coronation was delayed.”

“Why? Were you hurt?” you feel a wave of panic running through you and you make to rise in the bed but your body protests with a jolt of gut-wrenching pain.

You hiss and Aragorn lays a hand on your middle to keep you in place.

“Don’t move, it’s barely healed. Few more days and I’ll let you try to stand up.”

“You will let me?” you quirk an eyebrow and force your lips to smirk. Aragorn cackles airily and strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m your healer, you should listen to me, Y/N.”

“Can I have some water? My throat feels as if it’s full of dirt.”

“Of course,” Aragorn takes his hands off of you and reaches to a stand, taking a glass of water from there and  carefully bringing it  to your lips. You sip a bit, deciding that it is, by far, the best drink you have ever had.

Aragorn keeps his eyes on you, ready to act by whatever you’d ask him to. Debating with yourself whether you should bring up a thing that, most likely, was your dream, you grimace.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, his voice hinted with fear and concern and you shake your head.

“No, I… was Sam here while I was not conscious?”

“Yes, he did visit you. Do you remember it?”

“It appears so. Gandalf was here, too?”

“He was, yes.”

“And Legolas?”

“Yes,” Aragorn nods his head, his brows knitting over his nose as a realization dawns on him.

“Why did he call you a fool?”

“Because I am one. Legolas was only honest with me. As well as Gandalf. I should’ve said it sooner, Y/N, maybe you wouldn’t be so stupidly brave.”

“Oh, now I’m a fool, too?” you tease, curling your lips into a smile and Aragorn grimaces, closing his eyes for a moment.

“That’s not what I meant to say.”

“Then say what you mean,” you encourage, reaching for his hand and taking it in yours, and Aragorn inhales deeply before he whispers,

“I love you, Y/N. I have loved you since I laid my eyes on you, a long time ago, yet I was a coward. I feared you’d reject me. I feared you’d be scared of my heritage. And yet, you promptly agreed to join the Fellowship and share that hardship with me.”

“I couldn’t let you go, Aragorn. I thought I’d build up courage to confess my feelings but I only learnt that I was not as bold as I believed.”

“Do you-?”

“I love you, you fool. You think that why I faced that monster before it could get to you?”

“Never do that again,” he breaths out, leaning in to rub his nose against yours and you close your eyes to savor every second of that moment.

“Promise me, Y/N, to never try and save my life again, do you hear me?”

“I promise, I promise. Now, kiss me before I pass out.”

#aragorn #aragorn x reader #x reader #reader insert #the lord of the rings #lotr #lotrfic