#(the title is more gender neutral in my country)

[mycological-mariner]

Someone was asking me today what my middle name was and I swear I had literally forgotten? Not because I don’t use it but because I use the masc version of it because no one ever refers to me by my middle name. I was riding the crucial constanat letter trying to reverse engineer the final vowel to a nice feminine letter

[chaos-storm]

I was supposed to focus on working on my book today, but got an absolutely Wild message from an acquaintance of mine that now I don't think I can focus at all

[minaturefics]

Head and Heart

Request: Could I request an Aragorn x Reader fic maybe where they have to separate during the trilogy, and when they’re reunited they both want to confess their feelings but they each think it’s unrequited?

A/N: It's here.... finally here.... I honestly don't think this is my best work, but I've gone over it so many times and I think it's time to just get it out here! I hope you enjoy it all the same, and thank you for your patience. I think I've lost my writing mojo - this might be the last fic in a long time (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Aragorn x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Non-graphic mentions of wound treatment

6.6k words

---

There was an unsettling sillness to the forest. Darkness curled around the little campsite, only kept at bay by the small fire. There were no croaks or squeaks from the shrubs, no hoots or chirps in the trees. There was not even the slightest whisper of wind to rustle the leaves. Behind you, the company slept, breaths loud in the silence, while you kept watch. The fire had burned low, the warmth of the flames barely reaching your back, and you glanced behind, wondering if you should refuel it, but Aragorn was already kneeling by the smouldering flames, feeding it sticks and twigs.

It had been a tense couple of weeks with the long treks at night and the fitful sleeps in the day, the unyielding wind and the unforgiving landscape, the cool indifference between the emissaries of Gondor — you and Boromir — and Aragorn.

When you had first laid eyes on him at The Council, you had noted his handsomeness — his dark hair, his piercing eyes, his short beard flecked with grey — but then came the revelation of his lineage. So this was the king come to claim the throne of Gondor. This was the man you would have to swear fealty to and serve under. This was the man who would inherit the land and people that the stewards have long since cared for. 

As though sensing your gaze, Aragorn looked up from the fire and met your eyes. He stood, eyes only flickering away for a moment to check on the others, and walked towards you slowly. You straightened, muscles tensing, and he brought his hands up in a placating gesture. 

“Peace,” he whispered. “I have only come to smoke.”

He settled on the ground next to the boulder you were perched on. Strange, for the king to willingly choose the cold earth when there was more than enough space on the rocks nearby, to willingly choose to be lower than you were. 

He brought out a pipe from his pocket, filled the bowl with leaves, and soon the air was filled with the sweet scent of pipeweed. 

“Do you smoke?” he asked around the stem of his pipe.

You shook your head. “Though I am fond of the plant they once used to be. In Gondor, you can smell them in the wind in summer when the flowers bloom. The scent of them followed Boromir and me to the borders of Rohan when we journeyed to Rivendell.”

He hummed. “You and Boromir must be close. There are not many who would be trusted with such a task.”

“We have known each other for many years.” You shrugged. “My family has long been loyal to the stewards of Gondor.”

You glanced at Aragorn, wondering if he had picked up on your subtle dig. It was not the throne, or who might fill it, that you were loyal to. Aragorn may be the heir, but he was still a stranger. And only a fool would trust another so easily, especially when it came to the country’s land and its people.

You expected him to frown, to grow grim and silent perhaps, but instead a small smile pulled on his lips. “I do not think you care for crowns and titles.” He took a long draw from his pipe and blew it out in a steady stream. “Your heart is with the people and the land. I do not think there is anything you would not do for Gondor.”

Your stomach flipped. How had he read you so easily?

“Of course,” you said, irritation rising unbidden within you. “We have lived in the shadow of Mordor for many years. We have supported and defended the people. We have shed sweat and blood for them.”

“I understand,” he said, serious. “I am aware my presence is an uncomfortable one. But we are not enemies.”

“You do not understand. Gondor may be your birthright, Aragorn, but it is myhome.”

“And I swear to you, I will defend her.”

“You swear to me?” You scoffed. “As a king?”

“As a man.”

You met his eyes. The firelight flickered in them, but there was nothing fickle about his gaze. Something stirred in your heart, a softening, an awakening, and you nodded, short and sharp. “Alright.”

-

Aragorn watched you as you tried to cheer the hobbits after dinner. They were seated in a circle around you on the soft moss, between the great roots of the Lothlorien trees, listening to your stories. There was a fire in your eyes, a merriment, a wildness, and warmth in your voice.

“And then,” you said in a hushed whisper and the hobbits leaned in, “Faramir and I pushed him into the river! Oh, Boromir was furious. He crawled right out and dragged the both of us by our ankles and pulled us in with him.”

Pippin snickered and glanced at Boromir who was seated beneath another tree root.

“You should tell them about the time you got stuck in the bell tower!” Boromir called, grinning.

“The bell tower?” Pippin’s head whipped back and you let out a long groan.

Your eyes darted to Aragorn’s, lighting up in surprise, and you flashed him a smile before turning your attention back to the hobbits. His heart gave a little lurch and he grimaced. He did not have time for such things.

Ever since that evening, you were quicker to smile at him, more likely to walk beside him and talk. He had thought  you beautiful before, stoic and stalwart, seated at The Council, but now, thawing, warming, it was like the first flowers of spring beginning to bloom. Beauty was one thing but spirit was another. And he could not help but admire yours. How you tried to encourage the hobbits through the snow on Caradhras, how you helped Gimli up from his knees in Balin’s tomb, how you stood, crying but defiant, after the Balrog took Gandalf. 

He knew, just as well as any, that it must have been grim, gruelling work as a ranger in such times. Many of his men had grown serious and solemn over the years, and a part of him envied the Gondorian rangers for having your light when he had none. 

He glanced down at the forgotten sword and whetstone in his hand. No, whatever fledgling feelings he might have for you had to be halted. He had just barely earned your esteem; it would be madness to think of earning your affection.

“That’s it,” you said, deflating a little, “I’m out of stories.”

Pippin and Merry gave disappointed groans, and Sam and Frodo flashed you grateful smiles. They went off towards their beds, fluffing the pillows and straightening the blankets, and fell into a quiet conversation among themselves. You stood up and wandered in Boromir's direction and he turned his attention back to his sword, running the whetstone along the edge with a satisfying shink. 

He lost himself in the motion, driving away thoughts of Gandalf, thoughts of the ring, thoughts of you. 

“Are you alright?” You asked and he blinked out of his meditative trance. Your eyes were soft and concerned. 

He nodded. “I am just burdened by the future. I am anxious to carry on with our errand.”

“It has been a harrowing few weeks,” you said, coming to join him on the soft ground. “It would do us all some good to rest here under the protection of the elves.”

“We do not have time.”

“We have time for this,” you said firmly. And then more gently, “Aragorn, we have all suffered a great loss. You more than most. You knew Gandalf the longest among us, have you not?”

“I have,” he murmured, the corners of his eyes burning. He sniffed and swiped his tears  away before they fell.

“Would it… would it ease your mind to speak of him?”

He was uncertain anything would ease the tightness in his chest and the hollowness in his stomach. Still, the words flowed from his lips, low and stilted.

“It was Gandalf who introduced me to pipeweed,” he said, memories of the mischievous wizard filling his mind. “Elrond was most displeased.”

You laughed, a hearty, sweet sound, and he let out a long sigh, muscles loosening. 

“He showed me how to fill the bowl and tried to teach me how to blow smoke rings.”

“Can you?”

He smiled a little, remembering sitting next to Gandalf, practising. “Not quite. It is harder than you think.”

“Well, perhaps next time you could show me.”

He nodded absentmindedly and shifted, laying his sword and whetstone aside. His pipe, in his pocket, jabbed him in the thigh with the movement. It would be nice to take a moment, to have a smoke and relax, just like you said. “Or perhaps,” he said slowly, “I could show you now.”

You glanced around, eyeing the ethereal flets high in the trees. “Is that permitted here?”

He grinned. “I’m sure they will permit it. In the memory of Gandalf.”

He prepared the pipe and lit the leaves. The smoke filled his lungs, sweet and soothing, and he leaned back against the tree root. After a few long draws, he attempted the smoke rings. The first few were short lived, more like coughs of smoke rather than rings, and then one or two vaguely ‘O’ shaped.

“Gandalf would be disappointed,” he murmured with a chuckle. 

“Have another go,” you said with a smile.

He inhaled, long and slow, the smouldering leaves glowing. He relaxed, Gandalf’s scolding instructions filling his mind, and exhaled. Two clouds, and then, to his amazement, a perfect smoke ring. 

You grinned at him, eyes bright, and warmth spread through his stomach. 

-

You tugged at the borrowed robes and wished you had some sort of mirror. They were soft and fine, the pale blue fabric iridescent in the starry elvish lanterns. It was gracious of the elves to extend the invitation of a formal dinner to the fellowship, but it seemed like everyone except Legolas and Aragorn felt a little ill at ease at the prospect of dining with the elves.

“Come on,” Boromir called, “we are waiting for you, my friend.”

You smoothed the fabric down and stepped out from behind the changing screen. The rest of the company were standing around, already changed, by the base of the steps. You walked towards them, forcing your eyes to stay trailed on Boromir instead of straying to Aragorn.

No, it did not matter what he thought of you. It did not matter at all.

The past couple of weeks in Lothlorien felt strangely like a dream, a world removed from everything else. Sheltered by the elves and swathed in trees, it seemed as though Aragorn could lay down his sword and rest. It had been odd, seeing him joke with the hobbits, egging their bickering on with his wry comments, or watching him laugh with Legolas while they spoke in Elvish. 

Was this who Aragorn truly was? He had more than shown his valour and strength in the past few weeks, his firm words to Boromir on Caradhras in the presence of the ring, his unwavering patience and calm in Moria, but this… 

Boromir clasped your shoulders and grinned. “You look amazing. These robes are more difficult to put on than our formal wear, but more comfortable I should think.”

You nodded, your eyes darting to Aragorn anyway. His eyes swept over you, expression barely changing as he inclined his head, and continued his conversation with Legolas. Disappointment pooled in your stomach as you followed the rest of them up the stairs towards the dining flet.

 Disappointment? At what? There was nothing to be disappointed about. He was a companion, just another member of the fellowship. It would be a foolish notion to expect his regard of you to change simply because yours of him had.

And what was it that changed it? Some promise of caring for your homeland, some moments of laughter and levity, the shared grief of losing a companion? You shook your head. How could you let yourself be swayed by such things? He was still yet to prove himself a good king.

Dinner was an uneventful affair. The food was good and any dips in conversation were filled in by Legolas who told tales of Mirkwood to the elves. Eased by the wine and bolstered by the delicious meal, Pippin shyly asked if there was to be music and dancing, and the company was led to another flet with musicians. 

The hobbits had paired up, and Legolas, cajoling, baiting, and challenging Gimli, managed to get the dwarf to at least attempt the steps. Boromir and you had stood off to the side, choosing to watch first, and Aragorn was speaking to Haldir. The flutes and the harps were clean and clear, but the hand drum beat more rapidly than you anticipated.

“It is like our waltzes back home,” Boromir said.

“But faster.” Your eyes darted between the pairs, trying to puzzle the steps. “And it is to the beat of four and not three.”

“It is not so different,” Aragorn said. “In practice.”

“You know how to dance?” You turned to him, astonished.

“Of course.” He broke into a smile. “I was raised in Rivendell.”

You blinked at him and looked away. How did you forget? It was so easy, looking at Aragorn, to see the wild, skilled Ranger and forget the noble circumstances of his birth. Yes, he was a king. The disappointment from before corroded through you. Yes, you must not forget that. No matter his trappings — a good man, a good ranger — Aragorn was a king.

And a good man did not necessarily mean a good king. And Gondor… Gondor would need a good king.

Boromir nudged you with his elbow. “You should dance, my friend. You were always better than Faramir and I. Valar knows I’ll trip over my feet with this new music.”

“It has been many seasons since I last danced.”

“It is easy,” Aragorn said, offering his hand to you.

For a moment you stared at his palm, the creases in them still smudged with errant dirt despite the comforts of Lothlorien. The hands of a man who knew strife, who knew work. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you placed your hand in his and he walked you to the edge of the dance. He laid a hand on your waist, large and warm, and stepped closer to you. You could smell him, leather and soap and sweet pipeweed.

“Your other hand on my shoulder,” he murmured, breath rippling the errant strands of your hair. 

He led you through the steps, his fingers flexing on your waist, his voice low and close. You stared at your feet, at his chest, at the trees beyond his shoulder. Your heart sped up and you willed your breaths to lengthen, hoping he could not sense the change in you. 

“You are a good dancer. A quick learner,” he said. 

You nodded, not trusting your words. Warmth radiated from him, and it seemed as though your hand seared with the heat of his skin. He was solid and steady, and so, so close.

The dance was blessedly short, and when the final chord rang out, you stepped back from him, bowed stiffly, and walked away.

-

Aragorn cradled your head, his hand growing wet with your blood, and stared down at your pained face. Your breathing was laboured and erratic. Had they come too late? He glanced up to see Gimli and Legolas bent over Boromir. A black arrow stuck out from his shoulder and he let out a weak groan. Slain orcs lay around the clearing, their crude weapons scattered on the ground, and the hobbits were nowhere to be seen.

He looked back down at you, willing you to open your eyes. He couldn’t help but sweep his thumb over your muddied cheek. “Please,” he whispered. “By the Valar, please.”

How was it that it was only a week or so ago that he held you in his arms, warm and close, cheeks flushed from the dance? He had kept that memory close  in his mind, guiltily revisiting it in the quiet of the night, fingers twitching to reach out across the moss to touch you again. You had been strangely distant since that night. You were polite and friendly, but your glances had become fleeting and furtive and you hardly sought him out to talk in the evenings like you had done before. 

Did you catch a glimpse of the affection in his eyes? Were you discomfited by it? Possibly. Why else would you withdraw from him? Perhaps you felt it would be too risky to reject him outright, given his position as the future king, and thought it would be best this way. 

You groaned, brows furrowing, and mumbled something unintelligible. He whispered your name and to his relief, your eyes fluttered open. “Boromir,” you muttered. “The little ones…”

He looked up and saw Legolas and Gimli tending to Boromir, discussing how to remove the arrow. “He is alive. The hobbits have been taken by the orcs.”

“You need to save them.”

“I need to save you first.”

“There is no time… The Ring…”

“No. I will not leave you here.”

You muttered some garbled swear at him but did not protest when he began to inspect your wound. He parted your hair carefully, fingers combing through the matted strands. It was a fairly large wound, but not deep. At least, nothing that would be immediately fatal. It would have to be cleaned and bandaged properly to prevent infection. Legolas was already starting a fire and Gimli had gone off, presumably to camp to gather water and whatever spare cloths they could use as bandages. 

It was an hour later when you and Boromir were finally fully awake. Your wounds were bandaged but the both of you were pale and weak.

“The little ones,” Boromir said. “You must go after them.”

Aragorn looked at you. Your eyes were glassy and glazed, the collar of your cloak still stained with blood. “We cannot leave you like this.”

“Cannot? Or will not?” you asked, lifting your eyes to meet his. Your gaze was strong and defiant despite the pain. “The hobbits need to be rescued. Boromir and I cannot go on in our condition. We may yet live as we are, but Merry and Pippin do not stand a chance if you do not go.”

He exhaled sharply and glanced away. You were right, of course. But how could he leave you like this? Weak and bleeding, at risk of attack, at risk of infection. What would a good ranger do? What would a good king do?

“We could split,” he suggested uneasily. “I could remain while Gimli and Legolas go ahead.” 

But even as he said those words he knew it was not the best course of action. Gimli and Legolas, as skilled and strong as they were, would not be able to confront a pack of orcs by themselves. One glance at Legolas’ dubious expression confirmed his thoughts. 

“We are not on death’s door yet,” Boromir said with a grim smile. “I doubt that the orcs will return to this place; they already have what they came for. We can rest here for a day or two, then make our way back to Minas Tirith.”

The both of you, alone and injured? There were so many things that could go awry and it would be at least a three or four day journey to the city, longer even, in the condition the both of you were in.

“You know Boromir is right,” you muttered, your gaze steely.

It was then that he felt the way he did the night he spoke to you by the fire. That in your eyes there was a right thing to say or do, and anything else would lower your esteem of him.

He nodded slowly. “But we will not leave you here among these corpses. Let us at least get you back to camp with a fire. It will not take us long.”

You shared a look with Boromir and agreed. Between the three of them, it was quick work to help you back to camp. He would see you again, he knew, he hoped, but even then, as he followed Legolas and Gimli away from the camp, he could not help but look over his shoulder for one last glimpse of you.

-

A cool wind blew through the window of your room at the Houses of Healing, carrying with it the sound of the army marching out to Osgiliath. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, groaning and wincing, and slumped back against the headboard, craning your neck towards the window. If you could not see Faramir off on his deadly errand, then you would at least watch him from your room. 

How had it come to this? Boromir, delirious and incapacitated with fever and infection. Faramir, sent off to Osgiliath, surely to die. And you, weak and helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

Faramir had said he was relieved that you were not coming with him, that if he and Boromir were to die, he could trust that you would ensure Minas Tirith would be well defended and cared for. 

There was no comfort in that. There was no comfort in all of this. 

Duty and honour and calling. What did anything matter if you were left alone in the world? Without Faramir, without Boromir, without… 

Without Aragorn. 

For a moment, you laid any sort of obligation to your station, to your city and country aside, and allowed yourself to indulge. When did he become someone so close to your heart? How? 

It was all those moments of softness. Those rare moments where he was simply just a man, when he set down the mantle of ranger and king. Like when he smoked with Merry and Pippin, nestled between tree roots, discussing the characteristics of the various pipeweed strains. Or when he devoured one of Sam’s dinners of potatoes and wild mushrooms faster than anyone else, shrugging with amused resignation when everyone stared at him. Or when he sat up with you during your turn as the night watch, talking about his boyhood misadventures. 

And that moment when he had danced with you, his strong arms around you, his grey eyes bright in sparkling lights of Lothlorien. He had smelled like soap and cedar, and you were close enough that you could smell the sweet wine on his breath when he spoke. There was something in his eyes you had not seen before. Tenderness? Affection? 

You shook your head and laughed at yourself. Affection? There was little chance of that. You had challenged him that night by the fire, silently made him work for your respect and approval on the journey. It was necessary, perhaps, to prove to him that as a servant of Gondor you were not so easily swayed by someone who claimed to be king. But as a person, as yourself… There was no way that such behaviour would endear you to him. 

He was friendly enough, yes, but he was friendly with everyone in the fellowship. That was all there was to it. Camaraderie and friendship. And it was not as though he had given any indication of… feeling more. And as king, he would have to select a suitable partner. In Rivendell, there were rumours of his long friendship with Elrond’s daughter. Yes… Someone like her would be suitable. And you…

You would stand by as always, the protector and servant of Gondor, and watch him be happy with another.

The bell tolled and you snapped out of your musings. The army was just leaving the gates of the city, their armour gleaming in the sun. You muttered a silent prayer for them, hoping that Faramir would return whole and safe.

Yes, whole and safe. That was all you would ask for Aragorn too. It did not matter if he did not return your feelings, all that mattered was that you would see him again, healthy and smiling. 

-

The cragged stone walls of the narrow path began to look the same to Aragorn. The horses’ clops echoed off the high walls, and Legolas’ and Gimli’s muffled chatter strangely amplified. The air grew cooler and, somehow, more still as they continued forward. He glanced behind and Legolas gave him a short nod. They would be close to The Paths of The Dead soon. 

Andruil bumped his calf with each step the horse took and he felt for the pommel with his fingers. For so many months he had tried to ignore the truth of his heritage. To the hobbits he was Strider, and to the rest of the company he was simply a ranger. But now… there was no hiding, no denying, what he was. Who he was.

Would the others treat him differently now? Would they see him as other, higher, than they were? The thought of Merry and Pippin, usually so affectionate and playful,  growing distant and formal made his heart ache. Would Boromir retreat back into his position of Captain and Steward, rebuilding the walls that they so carefully took apart on their journey? And you…

He thought back to that night by the fire. He had not missed your subtle dig, your silent display of suspicion, and he had tried to reassure you, to show you that he was just the same as you and Boromir. And over the months it seemed that you had softened, sitting with him while he smoked, splitting your rations with him when he had offered some of his share to the hobbits, sharing amused looks with him when Gimli and Legolas were bickering about something inane. 

You even let him dance with you.

In that moment, he felt that you finally saw him as he was. A man. Just a man. But then your eyes had shuttered and you walked away from him. He sighed. There was no hope for him now. With the sword returned to him and him on his way to invoke the debt as the heir to the throne. You would be lost to him, he knew, the moment he was crowned. 

-

The city was in an uproar — singing, drinking, dancing — celebrating the destruction of the ring. It seemed that ever since Aragorn returned from the Fields of Cormallen, there were always people around him. You had recovered enough to return to your own rooms in the Steward’s House in the citadel, though Boromir and Faramir were still recovering in the Houses of Healing.

Aragorn had stopped by your rooms once, expressing relief and joy at your recovery, but had not come by since. So it had begun, then, the inevitable distancing that would happen. He had proven himself a worthy heir and king, marching with the Rohirrim, going to the Paths of the Dead, facing the Enemy at the Black Gate, just as you wished at the start of the journey. Gondor would be in good hands. But what of yourself and your heart? At the beginning, nothing mattered more than his suitability as king, but now… 

You let out a frustrated huff and shook your head. Maybe a walk would clear such futile thoughts from your mind. Maybe you should go see Boromir, he always had a way of cheering you up. It was a short walk down to the Houses of Healing and you found Boromir sitting up in bed, reading through some documents.

“Ah, my friend,” he said with a smile, setting the parchment aside. “You have good timing. I am sick of these papers.”

You peered at them. “Trade agreements?”

He shrugged. “Faramir and I have decided that he will take the post of Steward, but he still values my input on such things.” He took you in, eyes searching your face. “You are upset about something.”

You opened your mouth to protest but deflated instead. You sank into the chair next to his bed. “I am vexed by something. That is all.”

He stared at you for a moment before the corner of his lips twitched upward. “Is it Aragorn?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

He chuckled. “We have been friends for many years now, and have been by each other’s side for months. Besides, I have had my suspicions for some weeks.”

You shifted in your seat. “What suspicions?”

“That perhaps your feelings towards him have changed. Softened. I have seen it with my own eyes. I knew for sure that night in Lothlorien.”

You stared at your hands and sighed. “Even if I admit to it, it matters little. He will not return my feelings, and even if he did, I am not a suitable match for him.”

Boromir threw his arms up. “I know you are stubborn but you are being deliberately obtuse and difficult now.”

You bristled and frowned at him. “Do not tease me, I am not in the mood.”

“First, your argument of unsuitability is nonsense — your family is well regarded in the city, and do not forget your own title as Captain. And second, is it so hard to believe that he might return your feelings?”

“I don’t see why he would,” you muttered petulantly. 

He rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. “I am not usually one to meddle in such… things, but a man can only take so much. You are not the only one who has come into my room, sulking and moody.” You blinked at him and he shook his head. “Aragorn is one to keep things close to his heart, yes, but even he cannot completely hide what is in his eyes.”

Your heart sped up a little. “What… what are you implying?”

“That there is reason to hope. And that maybe Aragron, like you, feels as though his feelings may be unrequited.” Your brows furrowed. “Ah, do not act confused — do you not remember how cold you were to him at the beginning? And how wary you were in the first weeks?”

“But I have been friendly since then.”

“Maybe so, but I would not fault him for being… careful. Some encouragement would not go astray.”

Encouragement? At the risk of looking like some fool? But Boromir was not one to make up stories, and his assessment of character and behaviour has not led him, or you, wrong so far. Perhaps you could… try. Try to show a little more interest, and see if Boromir was right. 

-

Aragorn leaned back against the cool stone wall and took a long drag from his pipe. He had escaped to some high tower in the Citadel, yearning for the open, unbroken sky, and wishing for a moment of peace. The stars winked above him, shimmering just the same as they did in Rivendell, and a fragrant breeze blew from the plains below. 

In a few days, everything would change. 

He had accepted it the moment they entered the Paths of the Dead. His lineage, his duty. He had known since the beginning that he would eventually return to the throne but those decades in Rivendell, those years of roaming the wilds made it easy to forget. He let out a long stream of smoke, watching the pale white puffs evaporate into the night. He inhaled, relishing the sweet scent of the pipeweed, and on a whim, blew some smoke rings.

He smiled a little, remembering that night with you in Lothlorien. It seemed like a whole lifetime ago. His heart had wrenched in his chest when you had opened the door to your rooms, and you stood, haloed in warm light, safe and whole and real. It had been nearly too much to sit in your rooms, talking and smiling, with you so close. The gravity of the mission and the perpetual looming peril during the journey helped keep his feelings buried, but seeing you at home in your rooms stirred his imagination and images of you, of a future with you, plagued his mind for days. 

He had tried to keep his distance, for his own sanity, but for the last week it seemed as though you were determined to seek him out. With the coronation coming up, it was inevitable that he would see more of you — you were assisting with some of the preparations — but you always lingered to talk when discussions were finished. You urged him to take breaks, suggesting he walk with you in the gardens or courtyards, and you even called on him one evening.

It was… confusing. Were you just being friendly? Or was there more to your actions? He knew he was not a man prone to delusion and it certainly seemed as though your feelings had changed. Warmed. But he wished to know for sure. Could he ask you? Would you be receptive to such a thing?

It felt as though he was running out of time. That his coronation would somehow alter things forever. 

He took another drag of his pipe and closed his eyes. He had faced death at the Black Gate but did he have enough courage to face you? To bare his heart, to be open, for the chance that you might reciprocate?

Yes, he thought, or he would forever regret that he did not. 

-

You rubbed the smooth fabric of the silks you were to wear for the coronation. It shone in the warm light of the candles and you stepped back to admire the handiwork of the seamstresses. Intricate embroidery decorated the hems of the sleeves and the collar, the design more ornate than anything you had worn before, and you traced it with your finger. It was beautiful, something more fit for royalty than one of the nobility, and you had protested, but Aragorn and Boromir insisted upon it.

You sighed and turned away, wandering towards the window. The city spread itself in front of you, the flickering torches on the parapets forming concentric circles leading down to the plains. Aragorn would take a partner eventually. Would they care for the city and Gondor? Would they appreciate her beauty and her people? 

The city was flooded with visitors, the citadel more busy than before housing the dwarves and elves and other nobles. Lord Elrond’s daughter had come with him and your heart shattered at the sight of her. But to your surprise, Aragorn had made no overtures to her. They were friendly, yes, but the little you saw of them together, they seemed more like siblings than lovers. Was it possible that you were mistaken? Or perhaps the elves had a more modest way of displaying affection?

Boromir still continued to insist that Aragorn had feelings for you but the evidence of it felt weak. True, he had taken you up on all your offers for walks, and had talked long with you when you called on him that one evening, and once or twice you thought you had seen the tenderness in his eyes but you could never be sure. Maybe it was too little too late?

There was a knock on the door and you called out.

“It is me,” Aragorn said, his voice muffled through the thick wood of the door. “I know it is late but I wish to speak with you.”

You opened the door and let him in. His eyes flickered towards your clothes hanging on the wall before he focused on you. He was dressed in one of his more casual tunics, still not changed for the evening, and your eyes darted to the open V of his shirt collar. “I am surprised you have not turned down for the evening,” you said, glancing away and gesturing for him to sit by the fire.

“I could say the same for you.”

He joined you on the cushioned bench and stared at the fire. His face was impassive and his jaw was tense. What was so important that he had to see you on the night before his coronation? Were there any last minute changes to be made?

”Aragorn?” you whispered. “What is the matter?”

“I was thinking about our first few weeks together when we left Rivendell,” he murmured. “You were not very fond of me then.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with it.

“And as you said, Gondor is your home.”

Your stomach lurched. “Aragorn, surely you know I do not hold any reservations about you anymore. If I had caused offence then, I —”

He shook his head. “No, I understood then, and I understand now. But still, given the coronation tomorrow, I simply wanted to be sure.”

“Then let me be clear,” you said, a little exasperated. “My feelings about you as a king have changed.”

He nodded slowly and stared into the fire. It crackled and popped in the silence. You wanted to ask if he had more to say, but something stayed your tongue and you waited.

“And of me as a man?”

“As a man?” You met his gaze and your heart started to thump.

His eyes were unguarded and soft, the silver steel of his eyes warm and molten. His lips were parted gently, as though he was ready to say more, but was waiting for your reply. What could you say to him? Was he asking what you thought he was asking? 

What could possibly convey the hidden depths of your affection?

You wanted to reach out, to place your hand on his cheek, but the space between the both of you felt like a chasm. Slowly, ready to snatch your hand back at any time, you moved it from your lap and offered it to him, palm up, on the bench. You avoided his gaze, scarcely daring to breathe.

He reached out, fingers curled and uncertain, and softly clasped your hand. His skin was rough and warm, familiar and foreign at the same time. You let out a ragged breath, sounding strangled. How was this possible? Was it even real?

“I was not certain,” you muttered. “But Boromir —”

“Boromir?” Aragorn chuckled and you looked up. He grinned and shook his head. “I did not take him as a meddler.”

“He simply… encouraged me to be open about my feelings.” Feelings. The reality of the situation dawned on you and a smile crept onto your face. “I cannot believe this.”

“I am in greater disbelief than you are. I was struck from the moment I saw you.”

“And I you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You are not the only one who knows how to conceal your feelings,” you said with a laugh, shifting closer towards him. 

His other hand came to rest on your cheek. “There shall be none of that now. For too long have I been apart from you.”

He dipped his head and captured your lips. His lips were soft and tender. He kissed you slow and languid, savouring and tasting. He smelled of cedar and musk, and his breath held the lingering sweetness of pipeweed. You tried to pull back but he followed you, his lips seeking yours again. His kisses grew passionate, impatient, as though trying to make up for the time they did not have you.

He paused for a moment, breathless, and muttered, “Join me tomorrow, in front of everyone. Walk with me after I am crowned.”

“You would have me with you then?”

“I would have you with me always, meleth nîn.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Will you have me?”

“Yes. Anywhere, anytime, my love. Forever.”

[viperdove-if]

They will sing songs of our legacy, weave tales of the blood we spilled and the hearts we stole. We have carved our names in history, my dove, using the lives of the guilty. And once you are appointed, you too will be marked in legend.

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER POSTS

Genre: dark, crime, romance, gangs

Setting: fictional world of Hera, ancient times

You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does.

But your family is not the only family with a steel-like grip on Hera. The Dimas family have been your rivals for centuries, a blood feud fueling the anger on both sides. You both fight for territories, for money, terrorize innocent civilians and throw them in a fight they never asked to be part of. Eventually it must end...and eventually it will come down to you and the Viper, the rival heir.

But when murders and kidnappings crop up on both sides of families, the blood feud grows larger. Because there is an even bigger threat coming, and a blood war may be the only way to get out of it.

Viper & Dove is a dark romantic interactive fiction that follows two crime families in a blood feud taking place in ancient times. It is rated 18+ for violence, explicit themes, possible sexual content, and gore.

Customize your heir from name, appearance, gender identity, pronouns, demeanor and more. Customize their approach to their position and how they feel about their family and their responsibilities.

Choose a weapon of choice like a sword, throwing knives, and more.

Choose what kind of heir you want to be, and how far you're willing to go to protect your title from your endless siblings...who are various shades of bloodthirsty.

Indulge in romances that go from a doomed Romeo & Juliet narrative to a bully arranged-marriage romance to a bodyguard romance.

more features to come.

Talon/Thea 'The Viper' Dimas (m/f) : the eldest and heir to your rival family, neither of you can live while the other one breathes. Everyone is waiting with baited breath for the day you two come face to face for a fight to the death to finally bring an end to a century long rivalry...in blood. The day seems to be inching closer, and you wonder if you're prepared.

You are forbidden to see them. Forbidden to speak to them. Romancing them grants a punishment in blood.

Romance: enemies to lovers, forbidden lovers, heirs to rival families, Romeo & Juliet-esque

Alastair (m): your father's advisor, his second-hand man. He is serious, distant, and treats you with neutrality, mostly because of who you are. He oversees everything your father does and your father trusts him with his life. Romancing you would mean certain death for him.

Romance: forbidden romance

Shadow (real name unknown) (m/f): the family's head assassin and lapdog for your father, indebted to him like a prisoner. They have killed many, and their deaths pile up in a way that keeps them quiet and isolated. They do not speak, least of all to you, and you rarely see them underneath their assassins garb.

Romance: forbidden romance

Kalis Dimas (f): the twin of your rival. Even though she is a Dimas, you feel she has no interest in the blood feud. She is too kind, too pure. If anyone were to find you speaking to her--especially her very protective twin--the results could be detrimental to you both.

Romance: forbidden romance

Oren/Odessa (m/f): your betrothed. They are mean, rude, and a bully, and yet you are expected to wed them. After all these years of them bullying you, tormenting you, how could it possibly change?

Romance: bully romance, arranged marriage

Kai/ Kara: (m/f): your childhood best friend. Your guard. The one meant to protect you. They were once an orphan, then found and employed by your father to keep you safe. They take their duty seriously, lest they get thrown out again.

Romance: bodyguard romance, forbidden

Raven/Rome: (m/f) your personal maid/butler, hailing from the servant family that has served yours for generations. They don't look you in the eye and don't dare speak. Some might find their overt politeness endearing.

This is my first interactive-fiction story and I hope you like it. Reblogs are always appreciated, thank you! :)

[waldau-archived]

i don't know anyone who writes wonwoo as perfect as you! you manage to capture his personality so well🥺could i please request a friends to lovers thing for wonu? you've been friends for YEARS and you've had your moments and hidden glances but this one night you're just sitting out and feeling the winter breeze together. he can feel you staring and asks why you're doing that..while you contemplate whether to give in and just confess. you're so overwhelmed with emotions for him but you're also so terrified to tell him bcos you're scared to change the dynamics your relationship has so far.

thank you so much for saying that about my writing, anon :') took me entirely too long but i had a sudden burst of inspiration after seeing the latest gam3 bo1 wonwoo with long hair 😵‍💫 hope you like this! title taken from the english version of crush by seventeen.

hearts in parallel — jeon wonwoo | 2,730 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

wonwoo's standing outside your car in the parking lot of your office. part of you is convinced you're just imagining things, because he's supposed to be in japan. touring. doing idol things. having fun.

every morning you look forward to the pictures he's made a habit of sending whenever he's on tour, whether they're what he had for breakfast, or what a sleeping dokyeom looked like with a moustache drawn on his face. his only motive for doing that has been to convince you to let him take you on a vacation whenever you're free, because he says there's always something you'd enjoy wherever he goes.

it's sweet. it really is. even if you have to keep reminding him that you have your usual 9-5 that's so different from his schedules.

but it is wonwoo, when you focus on the way he's standing against the hood of your car, hands in his pockets as he looks at what you assume is the view of the sun setting in the distance. crazy how he'd sent a picture of it to you just today morning from another country.

suddenly, you fell woefully out-dressed. it's your usual work attire, but wonwoo's got his airport look on, complete with a dashing coat that you've never seen before. maybe he has it on only for today.

"surprise?" wonwoo asks sheepishly, when he catches you staring at him.

you blink once more, just in case. "wonwoo?" you ask, a little uncertain. "aren't you supposed to..."

"tour ended last night," he explains, pushing himself to stand properly. "i texted you afterwards."

you think back to the messages you exchanged last night, but they're a haze at best. all you can currently think of is your calendar you've been crossing things off of for a better part of the day.

any other time, you'd be extremely happy to see wonwoo, but today you don't feel like you can match his energy. "sorry," you murmur, rubbing your face. maybe if you rub it hard enough he'll disappear and you can catch up with him when you're a bit more presentable.

"hey, no," he says, catching your wrist as you pull your hands away. "you look perfectly fine. did i catch you at a wrong time?"

you realize you just said your last sentence out loud. "just tired," you say, proud of yourself at how even your voice is despite the fact that your hand is in his. "i'm glad you're here, though."

wonwoo lets go of your hand. "then is it fine if i drive you home?"

you look at him. he looks pretty serious, and you snort. "did you seriously come here just to drive me home?"

wonwoo nods. "straight from the airport. dropped my stuff home, then took a cab and came here."

no wonder he's still got the airport look on.

"you're a weird man, jeon wonwoo," you say, searching for your keys in your pocket.

"that's probably why we're friends," he deadpans, catching the keys you toss him.

"you should be sleeping," you say, chucking your bag on the backseat. "or resting at home. not being my chauffeur."

"maybe i wanted to be your chauffeur because i'm not sleepy," wonwoo replies, slipping on his seatbelt, waiting for you to do the same before starting your car. "it's been a while since we've hung out together."

that's true, you think. ever since you got this new job, your hours have been filled with work, and even though you're not overly swamped, you've been seeing your friends a bit less frequently than you would have liked. wonwoo included. and wonwoo's also had less time to spend with you, given how the band's been planning more foreign tours in the past year.

so you're glad you're spending time with him, even if you're not at your best.

"who said you don't look good?" wonwoo asks.

you bite your tongue when you realize you've spoken out your thoughts again — it's just a testament to how tired you are, with no filter between your thoughts and words. you shake your head, but wonwoo's not having any of it.

"i came here straight off my flight and i look absolutely dishevelled. you're lucky i don't mind you seeing me like this."

"your so-called dishevelled airport look is just as good as me at my best, so don't even start, okay?"

"yah," wonwoo says, laughing. "i don't appreciate you slandering yourself like that."

"fine, what do you appreciate?"

"you spending some time with me and not worrying about anything else."

blunt, as always. you appreciate it, even if it makes your heart jump a little. and it's not that you're worrying over anything: it's just the sudden nature of wonwoo's appearance that has you a little confused. but you're not complaining.

"by the way," wonwoo says, when you finally pull out onto the main road after leaving all the traffic behind, "i got you something."

"again? wonwoo, i told you i don't need souvenirs from every—"

"this was for your birthday, sweetheart," he says, pausing to pull something out of the pocket of his coat. "i still have your stuff from japan waiting to be unpacked."

"you're a menace, won," you say, hands hesitating to accept the slim box sitting on the dashboard. "i told you i didn't want anything."

"and i told you it'd be a crime if i didn't get you anything. maybe i would've listened to you if you didn't get that insanely expensive camera for me."

you glance at him. "that's—"

"—a completely valid argument," he retorts, reaching for the slim box and putting it in your lap. "i've been waiting to see your reaction ever since i got it."

shaking your head, you make a show of opening it. one thing about wonwoo is that he somehow always knows what to gift others. you could tell him you didn't want anything, and then he'd give you something you didn't even know you wanted.

case in point: there's a dainty silver chain sitting in the box, with the pendant looking very familiar. you take a closer look at it and realize—

"you didn't."

wonwoo has his mischievous grin on. "of course i did."

it's a customized engraving of your cat on the circular coin of metal, a perfect replica down to the little discoloured patch of fur on your cat's face.

you'd complained to wonwoo, once, drunkenly, about this really cute online jewellery store that sold customized necklaces. you'd never been able to find it again despite going through your search history and searching the web extensively.

now that it's sitting in your hands, you can't help but wonder how much time he must have spent tracking it down, finding the perfect picture for the engraving.

"i don't know how to thank you," you say honestly, looking at wonwoo. he still has the smile on his face, looking straight ahead.

"just wear it forever, and you're good."

"oh, emotionally manipulating me? is that how it's going to be?" you ask, tracing the chain with your finger.

"i don't think it's manipulation if it's your cat."

you can't argue with that. you snap the box shut and put it in the pocket of your jeans. "you shouldn't have, won," you say perfunctorily.

wonwoo doesn't respond, simply choosing to switch on the radio.

for once, you're not driving, and you get the chance to appreciate how beautiful the city looks when it's nearing night.

"you hungry?" wonwoo asks, when the car stops at a red light.

you shake your head. "not for a few more hours. you?"

"nope," wonwoo says, flexing his fingers on the wheel. "but tonight's a full moon night, so i was thinking we could go to the riverside and just hang out near the pier? if you're not too tired?"

you think about it. you get to hang out with wonwoo in the moonlight, which will definitely be a sight to behold. the way he's been living rent-free in your mind for a while now is embarrassing, to say the least.

"i don't mind."

you sneak glances at him when he's answers a call from dino asking him if he's free to hang out tomorrow, when he's excited to hear one of his own songs on the radio. he's cute, and the feeling's eating you up from the inside every single time you're with him.

he just looks so...boyfriend. he's let his hair grow out, and black really is his colour. not to mention his glasses which might just be your undoing.

wonwoo parks at a spot not far from the pier.

you get out of the car and immediately get hit by a gust of cool air, and you're really glad wonwoo decided to come pick you up today, because there's no way you would've come here by yourself.

the walkway around the river seems nicer than the last time you were here, bigger and better with more lights and somehow, lesser people. it's exactly what you need right now.

you fall in step alongside wonwoo, comfortably silent as you make your way from the car park, the relative silence amplifying the sound of insects chirping and people chattering around you.

you don't look down for a second, and suddenly there's a tiny pebble that gets stuck in your shoe and trips you up. you brace yourself for a slightly hard impact, but the next thing you know is that wonwoo's arm is around your waist, pulling you into himself.

"careful," he chides softly, rubbing your back for a moment before letting go. "are you okay?"

you nod mechanically.

"let's switch sides. the light's better here."

it's these little things that wonwoo does, that make you fall for him even more. what started off as a little crush is now a hopeless, helpless twinge in your heart that multiplies whenever you so much as look at him. no matter how much you've gotten better at controlling your feelings around him, you can't help but stare at how good he looks tonight, the moon highlighting his face, its silver beams running through his black hair.

you've really, really missed this. just hanging out with him. and maybe you miss the time before you realized your feelings were so earth-consumingly deep that it began clouding every interaction the two of you have had.

"do you have the box with you?" wonwoo asks, all of a sudden.

you question his words for a second, then remember. "yeah," you say, patting at the slim box sitting in the pocket of your jeans.

"let me put it on for you?"

what should have been a calm night out with wonwoo by the riverside has now ended up into you becoming a mess of nerves, your skin burning where his fingertips touch you, fastening the clasp into place. you can't see how it looks on you right now, but wonwoo already has a solution.

"stand here," he says, directing you to a particularly bright lamppost. "you need to see how good it looks on you."

you try protesting, but wonwoo brushes away your concerns. "let me just take a picture. just one."

it's never just one picture with wonwoo, and you can't stop him when he has his mind set on something. you give in and stand under the light and try to muster up a real smile for the camera. you succeed because it's wonwoo standing behind the camera, pulling a funny face that makes you laugh.

he shows you the photos once he's done taking them, and you're not looking at the camera in a single one. he always makes you look better than you do, somehow. you return the favour, taking pictures of him posing in the same spot.

"these are good," wonwoo remarks, scrolling through the photos. "i'm glad you got the moon, too."

you nod before you say something embarrassing like you're the moon, though. you watch as wonwoo takes some more pictures of the sky, and the life around the riverside. the restaurants and shops light up the view for you but you can't help but just look at wonwoo. he looks so serene and in his environment that you can't help but wonder if having wonwoo as your boyfriend would entail dates like this on a regular basis.

"you're staring," is all he says, after two full minutes of silence.

you hum and slowly turn your gaze away from him, focusing on the trees in the distance, trying to play it off casually. rookie error.

"is everything okay?" he asks, pocketing his phone and moving a bit closer to you. "want to go home?"

you shake your head. "you?"

"no, i'm fine."

and then his hand is covering yours.

you try your best not to freak out, but under his hand, your hand is gripping the railing so tightly that you're sure your knuckles are white.

"sorry i missed your birthday," wonwoo says, leaning in close enough that he's towering over you. it's the perfect height to k—

"it's not your fault," you say, licking your lips. "you had work. and you even called me when you were free."

"still. it doesn't make up for me not being here."

"i don't mind," you say honestly, your other hand gripping the railing for strength you don't currently possess. "you're here now."

wonwoo hums, seemingly dissatisfied. your hand's genuinely burning under his, and you resist the urge to check if it's on fire.

"well, for what it's worth," wonwoo says, turning to face you, "i hope you had a good day, and i hope i'm there for your birthday next year. like a good friend."

"you are a good friend, won," you say quietly. "the best."

you wonder if you should just give in and tell him how you feel. given you know how mature he is, you doubt he's going to shun you the way you're afraid he will, but part of you doesn't want your dynamic to change. he's so easy to talk to, and he knows so much about you, and you're afraid of having to find it all over again in another person. maybe it's for the best to let this moment pass.

"you are too, sweetheart." his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, and something in you snaps.

"would you still consider me the best if i told you i liked you?"

wonwoo blinks. in the wake of his silence you can once again hear the vehicles on the road behind you, the sounds of people around you, and maybe even your heart if you shut your eyes.

"you know," he says after a while, his grip on your hand still in place, "i've been trying to give you a chance to say that for the past few months."

your brain plays a comically loud record scratch sound. you look up at him, but he's smiling.

"what."

"i...was hoping there would be a small chance you liked me, and then jeonghan let it out one night when we were out drinking. but i couldn't make the first move because i was scared."

"you were scared? of?"

wonwoo takes his hand back and rubs his neck sheepishly. "i didn't know if he was telling me the truth or making things up. you know jeonghan."

"...yeah," you say, brain still trying to get back on track. "so right now i have one more person on my hitlist."

"whoa, what? i just...implied i liked you!"

"and i just said— wait. what?"

wonwoo laughs. "do you want to be on the same page as me?"

you nod slowly, still processing things. still not believing your luck.

"here's what we'll do, then," wonwoo says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "i'm going to drive you home tonight. then we can take jeonghan off your hitlist and send him some more alcohol, just as a thanks."

you wouldn't even have imagined this a few hours ago. you trail your fingers along the railing, reaching out to hold wonwoo's hand again. he meets your fingers with ease. "and what do i get in return?"

"you get to call me your boyfriend. and kiss me, if you like." wonwoo's leaning over you again. it's the perfect height to kiss you.

and he does end up kissing you, this time.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee

[femsolid]

About the media in which male always get to talk more, can you give the source of that, especially when talking about books? I've been looking for this for my final school paper but couldn't even find something about the bechdel test used for literature.

Disney films may focus on female characters, but when it comes down to statistics, these women barely speak. Thats’s right, there are some Disney films with as much as 2% female dialogue.

Media also distinguish between males and females in a more subtle way: importance. ‘Children scanning the list of titles of what have been designated as the very best children’s books are bound to receive the impression that girls are not very important because no one has bothered to write books about them. The content of the books rarely dispels this impression’, remarked Lenore Weitzman and colleagues in their classic review of Caldecott winners, nearly a third of which had no female characters at all. And of course there are characters, and then there are main characters. The Dr. Seuss books are rightly classics, adored by children and a joy of rediscovery for parents. Yet as Lamb and Brown observe, in all the forty-two books he wrote, not one has a female lead in its central story. The power of the media to dish up a stripped-down, concentrated version of cultural values enables it to represent the higher status of males in this uncomfortably blunt fashion. Even in contemporary picture books, researchers find that this is a habit that dies hard, with writers and illustrators still less inclined to feature female characters. For example, the most recent analysis of the Caldecott winners and runners-up, together with 155 best-selling children’s books around the same time, found that males, overall, were featured nearly twice as often as females in title roles, and they appeared in about 50 percent more pictures. Nor does the use of gender-ambiguous animals or characters in books help to increase female numbers. This is because mothers almost always label gender-neutral characters in picture books as male. If it doesn’t look like a female, it’s male. I’ve tried labelling neutral animals and characters as female when reading to my children – it feels extremely unnatural, as you will discover if you try for yourself. (The reason is probably that we have a tendency to think of people or creatures as male unless otherwise indicated. In other words, as has been long observed, men are people, but women are women.) As within the pages of books, females tend to be underrepresented on TV and computer screens, and to miss out on central roles in advertisements and even cereal boxes. A recent survey of 19,664 children’s programmes in twenty-four countries found that only 32 percent of main characters are female. (This drops to an even more dismal 13 percent when it comes to nonhuman creatures like animals, monsters and robots.) And, a survey of the 101 top-grossing Grated movies from 1990 to 2005 found that less than a third of the speaking roles go to females, with no signs of improvement over time. As the Web site of the Geena Davis Institute, which sponsored the research, asks, ‘What message does this send to young children?’

- Delusions of Gender by Cordelia Fine

[elliott-the-creature]

My request requirements!✨

.•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°°•..•°°•..•°•. .•°°•..•°

What I do requests of:

Moodboards

Wallpapers

Banners

Userboxes

Pride flag/alterhuman flag/flag redesigns

Pfp (basically the image with line redraws on it and any little icons you want + pride flags if you want)

Id packs (names, nicknames, usernames, pronouns, titles)

Topics of requests I do:

Therian

Otherkin

Theriomythic

Physical nonhumanity/holothere/clinical lycanthropy/zoanthropy

Otherlink/copinglink/funlink

Plantkin/phytanthrope

Objectkins

Conceptkins

Elementkins

Aesthethickins

Divinekin (includes angels, demons, gods/goddesses, fallen angels, and other divine beings)

Placekin

Unnaturalkin

Celestial/spacekin

Fictionkin/fictionflicker/fictive

Otherhearted

Pet regression

Age regression

Aesthetics

Objectum (sfw ONLY)

POSIC+

LGBTQIA+ identities (any and all identities, I don’t discriminate!)

And more! Feel free to suggest any more topics, I’m pretty open to any suggestions.

Topics I DON’T do requests for:

Anything nsfw (including kinks, paraphilias, nsfw objectum, and other sexual stuff)

Adult/adult oriented comedy cartoons (like family guy, the simpsons, south park, big mouth, bojack horseman, american dad, king of the hill, etc.). I find these shows to be often crude, gross, and overall unappealing, so please find another blog if you want to request stuff like this.

Harmful/mocking sexualities/gender identities (like super straight, dreamsexual, MAPS, animesexual, etc.)

DSMP stuff (or any minecraft smp stuff) (regular minecraft is completely fine though!)

Anything roblox or roblox related (it can be very hard to find pictures of characters to use for wallpapers/moodboards without using fanart, and I want to avoid fanart as much as possible, so I sadly can’t do it)

Harry Potter (or anything else made by or associated with JKR)

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss stuff (basically anything made by and/or associated with vivziepop)

Countries or nationalistic stuff. You should’ve read my DNI/DNF before asking me stuff

Real people. I don’t feel comfortable making stuff related to real people (like artists, celebrities, youtubers, writers, etc.). That basically means no factkins; I’m factkin neutral but I don’t want these kinds of requests.

If you have any questions about whether the topic you want is ok or not, please dm me beforehand.

Things to add in your ask:

For moodboards

What the topic is (so I know what tags to use)

What the main subject is

What theming/colour palette you want

How many pictures you want

Whether you want a standard (regular square pictures) or fancy (different shapes for pictures) moodboard

Anything you DON’T want in your board

For wallpapers/banners

What the topic is (so I know what tags to use)

What the main subject is

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What icon you want

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What the subject/theming is (aka what is the id pack about)

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↓ some examples of my works below! ↓

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Enjoy, and ask away! ✏️

[blingblong55]

Talk to me- Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Based on a request:

hii!! your writing is so good and i love it so much ueueue…can i please…PLEASE…i need a few crumbs of gary roach sanderson…where he breaks his usual silence to suddenly flirt back with a gender neutral reader who had been flirting a lot with him on the comms

A/N: I know we all say and some confirm Roach is mute but let's pretend he isn't for rn.

GN!Reader, fluff?

Being friends with the quietest man on your team, Roach is a task that is harder than any other mission you've had. He is always writing in his journal, occasionally looking at you with a small smile. Soap teases him nonstop, something that Roach has gotten used to. You and he talk very rarely, in missions he only addresses you when needed. Out of all the men you work with, he is the one who is the most respectful and reserved. Ghost had that title until he started telling jokes to the team.

Price recently made the decision to send Roach with you on a mission, something that is rare considering you and Gaz are the ultimate teammates. As you board onto the Heli, Roach patiently waits his turn to get on. You two land close to the place you'll call base for the duration of the assignment. Three long months in the forest with the quietest man, nothing too much to expect.

By month 1, he had gotten used to you doing all the talking, telling him the awful jokes that only made you laugh. He had a sense you spent more time with Ghost than you admit to. During one of the times he and you went to scout for a perfect spot to use as an observational post, Gary finally said more than his typical words.

"Grim, there's a huge hole in the ground, watch your step."

"How'd you find that out?"

"Almost fell because of it."

"Thought you were smarter than that."

"Clearly not."

It was the most he had spoken since you two got into the country for the mission. To be honest, you thought he held some grudge over you but are relieved he cared for you not to fall into the hole he almost fell into. As the mission continued on, and another month passed, he made it clear he was only here for business. Which was in part annoying since you had already gotten used to the other men in your team talking nonstop.

The final night, the day you and he had to execute the mission with precision, he finally spoke more. Currently, you were climbing a tree and he hoped on comms to talk you through it.

"Don't fall."

"With that accent, who wouldn't"

"Watch it, Grim"

You laugh a little, "Oh, c'mon, let me take you on a date."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"You ruined me asking you out." You could hear the smile in his voice.

"What a shame then."

"Very."

When you finally got off, you walked to the marked weak spots of the enemy's base. The whole time you and him were being very flirty and joking around with each other. He knew it and you knew it, it was all to keep yourself occupied over comms as you two walked through the forest, separate from the other.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

"Go ahead."

"What do you call a soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray?"

"What?"

"A seasoned veteran."

"You can do better."

"Ouch."

You two eventually reached the points from which you'd be camping.

"See me?"

"No."

"Boo."

"Hoo."

"Terrible, Roach"

"Says the one with the shit jokes."

"Bold of you to assume they are shit."

"Bold of you to assume they aren't."

It was 0200, only 30 minutes to go until attack time. You were bored and decided to flirt, to keep yourself going and to look forward to some better conversations after the mission.

"Roach?"

"Yes, Grim?"

"Do you fancy me like I fancy you?"

"Not one bit."

"Tell the truth."

"Oh totally in love, Grim." he chuckles

After more silence.

"Want me to dance for you like the birds do it for their potential mates?"

"You are makin' me blush, Roach" You look through your scope, watching the enemy intently.

"Anything for my potential mate."

"Better see you dance or I'll feed ya to the rookies."

"That a promise or threat?"

"Guarantee."

"Better give me a headstart, R/N."

"Aren't you fast enough to outrun them?"

"Not so young."

"Clearly."

"Respect your elders."

"Yes of course, where are my manners, Grandpa."

You hear him laugh a little, "You'll get us caught, my dear."

During the mission, he kept you in check, always asking for your current location, and wanting to hear your voice.

"Grim, how copy?"

"Head over heels for that voice, Roach."

"I do make the ladies/lads, crazy after all."

"Doubt it."

"Rude."

The mission was a success although you were nowhere in sight, which worried Roach more. He looked for you through the ashes of the explosion. Screaming your name.

"Grim, Talk to me, how copy?" Voice neutral.

-Static-

"Grim, no time to play jokes! How copy?" Distressed.

-Static-

"Grim, my dear, answer me." Desperate.

-Static-

"Grim?" Scared.

-Static-

"R/N?" Desperation seeps through.

-Static-

"R/N, how copy?" Has a clear answer you could be KIA-

"I'm here, fell into the hole you warned me about."

"'Course you did."

He didn't know it then but you heard him, listen to his words carefully. The once quiet man speaking, dancing with his words to hear you speak once again.

A/N: I hope this was...okay.

Tags: @vampsquerade

[dustbunnylair]

Hakari and Kirara Dating? Is Kirara a femboy? !Slight JJK Spoilers!

So if you are a part of the Jujutsu Kaisen fanbase then you probably understand what the title means. But, if you are not familiar with these Jujutsu Kaisen characters, I'll try to explain in short.

Kinji Hakari is a man around 18-22 years old, a third-year student who is currently suspended from Jujutsu High. His age is assumed by the average third-grade student ages in Japan, 17-19, but people assume he has been held back a bit because of his appearance. He's a gambler, which also made people assume his age.

Kirara Hoshi is an androgynous character and assumed transwoman/transfem, or also watered down to “femboy”, they are also a third-year student with Hakari (or according to them, “Kin”) who is currently taking a break from Jujutsu High because of Hakari’s absence. They are also assumed to be around 18-22 years old, I personally think they are about 19. Kirara is thought to be either a Demigirl (someone who feels their gender identity partially identifies with a feminine identity, but is not wholly binary, regardless of their assigned gender) a transwoman (MTF) or under the trans umbrella in general, because of the fact that they used to be a boy in junior high but later transitioned to dress more femininely. The image is shown below for proof:

Kirara and Hakari both do not like Jujutsu High due to its conservative members. Both of them have a very close or intimate relationship. Most of the fanbase has assumed they are dating, but then others deny that and think they are “really close best friends” huh, looks like the Jujutsu Kaisen fanbase has some patterns with its ships.

In my opinion, Kirara and Hakari are dating, it's just not explicitly stated. And before someone starts acting like a freakazoid because it's a “gay ship” and we all know shounen anime can't have gay ships, what would we ever do,the world is totally coming to an end because shounen animes are suddenly having implied lgbtqia+ characters?!

Yeah anyway, Hakari and Kirara are not a gay relationship. Why do I think this? Because Hakari has explicitly said he isn't into men. Images are shown below:

I'm not 100% that the above image is not a mistranslation so I'll show the image that I found which is of this panel:

I personally feel Gege will not open up about any shipping or characters of unknown genders within Jujutsu Kaisen, especially because Kirara isn’t the first to be an androgynous character, adding in Uraume. And if Gege does talk about characters' sexualities or genders, he’s probably going to A; pick which makes the fandom more pissed, seeing that he has killed off every likable or popular character, or B; not explicitly talk about it and just say it’s up for the fans interpretation.

The character here, Kirara, uses "Watashi," So them being trans is not completely impossible. “Watashi” is the Japanese neutral "I", appropriate in all contexts, used by men and women, in academia, business, retail, when talking to superiors or strangers or for official purposes. It is humble and formal. Women almost always uses this. And Panda says they are a "boy," because he remembers the earlier person, and in the official Jujutsu school (which is run by conservatives) records, they are registered as a boy.

I think in the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom and fanbase, there is a complete misunderstanding within Japanese media. Japan, and other Asian countries, are not as accepting of lgbtqia+, although other countries also aren’t currently such as America, etc. However, in America you can still easily get lgbtqia+ on screen or in television. However in Japan, it isn’t that easy, especially in Shounen Jump, they can actually get in trouble if they have an explicitly lgbtqia+ character in an anime/manga.

Gege Akutami has already gotten death threats for killing off characters, specifically Gojo, which is so incredibly harmful and is literally the reason why Japanese authors usually hide their identities and use different pen names. Currently, there is no confirmation on Uraume’s and Kirara’s genders. Hakari and Kirara’s relationship and whether certain characters within the show are a part of the lgbtqia+ community also remains unknown. For the time being, if a character is shown to have an unknown gender, or be attracted to the same gender it is implied. I personally don’t think it will ever be confirmed, and if it does get confirmed I think it’ll be when Jujutsu Kaisen is finished. The only implication from Gege himself is that he is a big reader of BL’s (Boys’ Love) however that doesn’t necessarily mean he would bring that into his own stories. 

However I think we should all be respectful towards people’s headcanons, if someone wants to headcanon that Uraume is nonbinary, Kirara is a transwoman, Hakari and Kirara are dating, or think that Gojo and Geto are soulmates I think they should be allowed to do so. The only time headcanoning is invalid is when it is problematic, influencing incest, pedophilia, toxic relationships, or contradicts canon, etc.

[copperbadge]

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did. 

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job. 

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?" 

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said. 

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan." 

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out. 

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered. 

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked. 

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said. 

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out. 

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?" 

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar. 

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused. 

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?" 

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute. 

[brighttears]

Drink Up and Look at the Stars

Joel x reader

No physical description, no use of y/n, gender neutral

Summary: Joel and you get some alone time while Ellie’s asleep, sharing a flask under the stars. Joel acts on some liquid confidence. 

Warnings: Drinking

Word count: 1k

A/n: I can’t stop writing. Also you may recognize the title from Between the Bars by Elliott Smith

–

Despite all his sleepless nights, Joel hadn’t realized just how much brighter the night sky is nowadays until tonight, and he’s thanking the moon and all the new stars for illuminating you like they do tonight. The liquid confidence he swigs makes him want to tell you but he’s still just cognizant enough to not want to take the risk. As he notices the whisky making his body feel lighter, now firmly in the zone of tipsiness, he hopes that you’ll be braver, or stupider, than him and let something like that slip. 

He felt lucky already that you couldn’t sleep and decided instead to join him at his post by the water. He didn’t even mind that the two of you might end up emptying his flask. He likes when he can get you alone and talking, and now he’s got you right where he wants you. Ellie’ll be sound asleep for at least a few more hours, and the whisky has helped you both let your guard down a little bit. 

The conversation has just arrived at recollections of your old lives.

“I always wanted to travel.” you continue on, “Look at me now, hiking cross country, sleeping by the water under the stars.” You try to keep your voice light but your smile is fading. “I guess I should have tried harder, to travel, I mean. I guess it's just that I thought I had more time. Doesn’t that seem so weird now? I used to plan for the future. I mean I was saving up money for when I retire.” you chuckle, “And now…”

“There’s still a chance,” Joel says. You look at him thinking he’s making a joke but his eyes are earnest, “to grow old. And I don't mean like me, I mean old, old. Like, die from natural causes old.” You snort. “I mean it.” 

Joel had always been the pessimist of your little group, but tonight it’s you who brushes off his offer of some positivity. “Would you really want to though? I mean I don’t want to die now, I just mean, I’m not super stoked at the idea of this dragging on for a few more decades.” 

Joel watches your face. He understands, but he doesn’t want to think about you dying, or him dying, so he’s going to ignore all that, just for tonight. Being alone with you like this is some kind of magic for him, protecting him from all the ugliness in his life. He can just be here, now, passing a flask back and forth, watching you under the stars. If only he could freeze time, stay here with you forever and make you feel safe like you make him. But he’s looking in your eyes and they’re distant and he recognizes the sorrow in them. The whisky is a pleasant burn going down his throat.

“Well, we don’t have to think about it, you know.” He reaches his hand towards you, offering the flask. “Drink up. ‘N look at the stars.” You take it from him and raise it to ‘cheers’ the sky.

There is a long, comfortable silence for a few more passes of the flask before Joel speaks up.

“If I could, I’d freeze this right here. ‘N put it in a snowglobe.” His cheeks are plump and pink at the ends of his smile and you giggle at him, putting your hand to your mouth to try to keep yourself from spitting out a mouthful of whisky. 

He turns his head to the stars. “Yeah. Just stay here. Stay here with you for the rest of time. Yeah, rest’a taaaam.” His southern drawl is more pronounced with a belly full of liquor and it makes you laugh.

“I think you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy, not drunk.”

“Well you sound drunk.”

“Well, you’re burstin’ my bubble. Come on, join me in the snowglobe.”

“The rest of time, huh?”

“Yeah. I got millions a questions I wanna ask you.”

“Like what?” you smile with him. 

Joel takes a swig as he considers his answer, then hands it back to you.

“Well, for starters, would you wanna stay in a snowglobe with me?”

“For the rest of time? Hmm…” You pretend to ponder, turning your face to the sky and taping your finger on your chin before returning to his eyes. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Joel smiles wider, adjusting his seat on the ground and looking up at the stars, feeling accomplished. You pass him the flask and yawn.

“Don’t you go fallin’ asleep on me. The night is young! We still got time in our snowglobe!” Joel giggles—an unfamiliar sound that you savor.

You laugh, “I’m not sleepy, just tired. There's a difference. I don’t wanna sleep, I wanna stay up with you.” You turn your head to him, swiveling your neck down to lean your cheek on your hand and stare for a minute or two. “You’re so pretty.” It slips out, but you don’t care. 

“I’m pretty?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re pretty.” He smiles wide at you and you giggle. “Pretty, pretty lil’ thing, you are.” Your heart skips a beat at his words and you watch his eyes dawdle on your face.

“I’m cold.” You lie. 

Joel nods his head towards himself, “C’mere, then.”

You get up and walk the couple feet to him and as you sit down he leans to lay on his side, elbow on the ground to support his head in his hand. He abandons the flask and lifts his other arm up while you settle in and then lays it over your middle. You scooch your body back into his and he wraps his arm around you. 

“Better?"

“Yeah. You’re warm.”

“Mm. Good. You still got a good view‘a the stars?”

“Oh, no, not really. I forgot they were up there.”

“You forgot they were up there?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “You’re distracting.”

“Well here,” He grunts as he sits up and you feel a twinge of nervous disappointment in your chest as he moves away to lean against the rock wall, but it leaves when he reaches his arms out to you, making grabbing motions with his hands. “C’mere.”

You happily crawl back into his arms and he reaches one to rest behind your neck, his other hand going to gently hold your waist. From this angle, your head leaned back against his shoulder, you get a good view of the stars, but now when you look up, his face is close to yours. You watch his eyes reading your face again.

Joel is lost in you. Right here, right now, there is no sickness, no death, nor loss, there's only you. The only thing that reminds him that he’s a person again is when he sees you looking into him.

“Now you can’t see the stars.”

“Mmm, that's ok. I like lookin’ at you more.”

“You are drunk.”

“Am not. Yer drunk.”

“No I’m not.”

“Good.” 

With that, Joel leans his lips down to meet yours. It’s an innocent, long kiss. Each time you pull away from each other you’re magnetized back again. It feels like forever and you don’t mind that at all.

“Perfect lil' snowglobe.” Joel whispers once you’re able to break your kiss.

“Rest of time.” You whisper back. 

He rubs the tip of his nose back and forth over yours. 

“Rest’a time.”

[ellorypurebloodculture]

Thank you for answering my questions!

... I have more.

Oops?

---

I get the Lord/Lady/Wix alternatives, but I was wondering if there was a non-binary alternative to the Heir/Heiress title specifically. Like if Heir Harry Potter realised he was non-binary, would he/they remain 'Heir', or is there a neutral equivalent title he/they could use instead?

What pronouns can non-binary wixen use? Is it just they/them or can they use binary he/she pronouns and neopronouns too?

Can cis or trans witches and wizards, who identify as either male or female, use neopronouns?

Do genderfluid wixen exist? How do they signal their current gender/pronouns?

If above is true, how do they store their magic?

Is the base etiquette the same internationally? (Regarding international relations/Are the basics common between countries/societies?)

Could Hogwarts be described as in Avalon but tethered to Magical Britain/a Scottish area? (SuperCarlinBrothers on yt found a likely real-world location for Hogwarts in Scotland, could it realistically be tethered there?)

"That was just Chaos’s second son deciding a school needed to happen and dragging the other Oligarchy into it." Are there any other major historical events in magical society that can be described similarly?

Can oaths be sworn to Chaos, similar to Covenants?

Are there any day-to-day traditions, actions, etc. required or undertaken in accordance with the worship of Mother Magic and Chaos?

"Oligarchy family magic goes dormant instead of … dying, for lack of a better word, because the deity that started the bloodline still lives..." Which deities started which Ogliarchy bloodlines?

What is the youngest someone can take over being the head of the family and running the duchy, in the event of all other main branch family members dying? (I.e. shards of memory 'verse, Harriet inheriting the Ladyship at 15, could she have inherited the Ladyship at a younger age if her parents and grandparents had died when she was 11/12/13/14?)

If the Heir/Heiress is too young, who would run the duchy in their place? Their godparents, their Vassals, or a Seneschal?

What is a Seneschal?

Could a New Blood who gets Magically Twinned with a pureblood take on their Twin's surname? (Like if Harry and Hermione were twins, could she be known as Hermione Potter?)

Are Magical Twins purely platonic? If not, could they, theoretically, Bond? Or is that similar to incest like what the Gaunts did?

How common are Gifts from deities?

Are the Weasleys Blood Traitors in the Pureblood Culture 'verse? You've said the Weasleys we know are from a branch line, so is it just their branch or is it the entire family?

1. I was wondering if there was a non-binary alternative to the Heir/Heiress title specifically?

Apologies for the confusion. They would also use “Wixen” as they have the right to the Lord/Lady First Name title.

2. What pronouns can non-binary wixen use?

Whatever ones they want. This is true for any person.

3. Do genderfluid wixen exist? If above is true, how do they store their magic?

Yes. Their magical storage would convert from their hair, to a signet ring, cuff bracelet, etc., and back automatically.

4. Is the base etiquette the same internationally?

Yes. The very basics of etiquette are consistent internationally. (I have not and will not be creating etiquette for other magical nations.)

5. Could Hogwarts be described as in Avalon but tethered to Magical Britain/a Scottish area?

It's in both. It has tethers to both. It can, if necessary, be pulled entirely into Avalon and cut off from Magical Britain. The same is not true in reverse. The wardstones, etc., laid by the Founders are in Avalon.

6. "That was just Chaos’s second son deciding a school needed to happen and dragging the other Oligarchy into it." Are there any other major historical events in magical society that can be described similarly?

Probably. But I can't think of any off the top of my head. 😂

7. Can oaths be sworn to Chaos, similar to Covenants?

Chaos is a deity. Covenants can occur with any deity, Chaos included.

8. Are there any day-to-day traditions, actions, etc. required or undertaken in accordance with the worship of Mother Magic and Chaos?

Required? No. Though, many magicals offer thanks via prayers or burning a thread of magic in sacrifice as an offering.

9. Which deities started which Oligarchy bloodlines?

Chaos founded the Just and Most Olde House of Slytherin.

Death founded the Hallowed and Most Olde House of Peverell

I've never decided for Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

And I'm absolutely blanking on whether I said Fate founded the Gryffindor or Pendragon line. 😅

10. What is the youngest someone can take over being the head of the family?

From birth, if necessary. A baby could be born Lord/Lady/Wixen TITLE. Though, obviously, they wouldn't be expected to manage the estate.

11. If the Heir/Heiress is too young, who would run the duchy in their place?

Either Vassals or a Seneschal, if there's one appointed. This is true regardless of title (baronies, earldoms, etc.).

12. What is a Seneschal?

The steward of a Magical House who has sworn an Unbreakable Vow to never betray the bloodline and oversee all duties responsibly.

I've yet to write one into a fic, so I don't have any examples.

13. Could a New Blood who gets Magically Twinned with a pureblood take on their Twin's surname?

Only if they become twins via the Death-Blood Twin Adoption Ritual. If Mother Magic Twins them magically, they aren't actually blood-related.

14. Are Magical Twins purely platonic?

Yes. They could bond with the same person—share a spouse—but not romantically bond with each other.

15. How common are Gifts from deities?

Not very.

16. Are the Weasleys Blood Traitors in the Pureblood Culture 'verse?

No. But it is part of my Pureblood Culture 'Verse canon that they're Blood Feuding with the Vigilant and Most Ancient House of Malfoy.

[dasmidna]

How to write German in your König fanfics by a native speaker

It’s basically exactly what it says in the title. These last days, I’ve made a hobby out of reading König fanfiction and looking at the German in them and if I see one more bad google translation, I think I might actually cry

Listen, I have used google translate too. I admit that and I know that resources are limited unless you have a native speaker around. That’s what this guide is for!

Also, if you have any further questions or want a translation on something, absolutely feel free to message me. I have no problem giving you guys specific translations if it means I don’t have to read any more google translate stuff XD

If you’re just looking for a list of curses and pet names, because I feel like that’s the most used stuff, they’re at the very end. If you wanna learn more about German though, stick around! 

The contents of this includes:

German dialects

the German alphabet

gendered language

capitalization

the formal “you”

conjugation/declension

direct translations and when not to translate

writing bilingual characters

a note for smut writers

pet names

curses

German dialects So, first things first, unlike König, I am not Austrian. I’m German, meaning I speak, well, German-German if you so will.

The thing is though, König’s VA doesn’t speak Austrian-German either. Both in the English and the German dub of the game, he speaks the most accent-free standardized High German I have ever seen in my life. It’s a common thing in the dubbing industry to do, but I still feel like it’s worth pointing out that it’s not exactly accurate.

Germany is an official language in 6 different countries, in which the language will be different and that is not counting each different state in those, where equally vast differences can occur.

I have a Berlin accent, for example. If someone spoke to me in a Saxon accent, I wouldn’t understand shit and that’s just two states over.

So keep in mind that this guide caters to High German, which is the standard for the written language and also what König speaks in the game. It is not, however, an accurate representation of what an Austrian guy actually sounds like.

The German alphabet Ah yes. The enemy of every non-native speaker, right after the ultra-long Frankenstein words.

Generally speaking, German does use the Latin alphabet like English. Only that we have 30 letters instead of 26. The four special characters would be: ä, ö, ü and ß

I find it important to point out that those are their own characters. They are not interchangeable with any other character in the alphabet. ä is not the same as a, ö is not o and so on. So if I see one more person spelling König as Konig, I will commit arson.

And that is also the only thing I will actively blame people for. Google giving you bad translations is not your fault. But this? This irks me in ways you can’t even imagine. It would be like spelling king as kang, for example. You wouldn’t do this in English so please don’t do it in German either.

What do you do then if you have a limited keyboard? Well, either you use copy and paste (the easy way), or you use the official workaround. And yes, there are official replacements for these

Ä = Ae / ä = ae

Ö = Oe / ö = oe

Ü = ue / ü = ue

ẞ = SS / ß = ss

As you can see, the capital ß is replaced by two capital S instead of one capital and one lowercase. This is because this letter can never stand at the beginning of a word and thus, it would only be capitalized if you write in all caps.

It should also be said that not every ss can be replaced with an ß. You can write “Straße” as “Strasse” but you can’t spell “dass” as “daß”. It is not wrong per se as far as I know, but you just wouldn’t do it.  

Gendered language German is, to put it mildly, a very gendered language.

Linguistically, German has 3 genders: masculine, feminine, neutral. You need to watch out for this because it means there is often a male and female version for certain words.

Arzt = male doctor

Ärztin = female doctor

Also, even inanimate objects have gender. Cars are neutral, trees are masculine, the sun is feminine and so on.

A lot of times, people will use the “generic masculine”, meaning they will use the male version and “mean the women too”. Nowadays this is counted as outdated and insulting towards women/other female presenting identities.

Is this a very binary system? Yes. Which actually brings us to another issue: there is no they/them in German. There are workarounds, like neopronouns or other ways to describe people, but this is generally really tricky.

Long story short: watch out what gender the person you’re referring to is.

Capitalization This is by far the most common mistake I see made in fanfiction.

While in English, things are generally written in lowercase unless they’re names or things like “I” for example, German has a few extra rules

Nouns – these are always written with a capital letter. And yes, this includes pet names. Anything from Liebling to Maus or whatever else you chose, it needs to be capitalized. I beg you.

verbs that act as nouns – Now this rarely comes up in fanfiction and as far as I can see, platforms like google translate actually get this right, so I won’t get too far into this, but if you give an article to a verb, something like “the walking” it has to be capitalized in German

Formal pronouns – Which brings us to the next point!

The formal “you” Long story short: German has two variants of the pronoun “you”

One is the formal and polite way to address someone, the other is the informal and more casual version. Depending on the social context, people can be very picky about which version to use and addressing someone by the wrong version can be counted as an insult.

Formal you – Sie/Ihnen/Sie

Informal you – du/dir/dich

When do you use formal pronouns? Well, it depends. Here are the two main scenarios in which you would address someone formally

They’re above you in the social hierarchy. Your boss, teacher, superior, someone a lot older than you. All these people would be addressed with formal pronouns. Of course you wouldn’t address your family formally. Same if you count older people as close friends/found family.

You’re addressing an adult you don’t know personally. This can also depend a lot on context. A teacher will address an 18-year-old student formally, but the students will talk to each other informally among each other, even if they don’t know each other. Generally, you start addressing people formally around their 18th birthday or if you assume they’re around that age. If you’re the same age as someone, it depends a lot on the social context and how old you are, exactly.

Both of these examples can be ignored if the other person offers the informal you. Say you’re starting to befriend a coworker, the two of you would at some point agree to use “du” with each other. 

Conjugation/declension I know this sounds really grammar specific, but I noticed that platforms like google can’t conjugate or decline properly if they have too little information. Mostly because German grammar is a lot more dependent on context than English grammar is and also slightly more complicated.

An example!

Let’s work with the English word “promise”, which we can use in two contexts. Either as a verb or a noun. In both cases, it looks fairly similar and aside form promise/promises/promised, you won’t have much variation in both the verb’s conjugation and the noun’s declension.

German, however…oh boy. 

As a noun, it would be “Versprechen” and as a verb, it would be “versprechen”. Looks similar enough you say? Until you realize that the noun can be:

das Versprechen

des Versprechens

dem Versprechen

die Versprechen

These tiny differences can change a lot in the meaning of the sentence and also, how it has to look. Verbs aren’t any better either.

Let’s say you want your character to say “Promise?” as a short form of “Do you promise me that?”. In both sentences, the verb looks the same.

Put “Promise?” into Google translate however, you get “Versprechen?”. Which, as you can see, is the noun. It can be the infinitive verb form, but either would be wrong to use here.

Instead, “Promise?” should be “Versprochen?” (which is actually past tense) and “Do you promise me that?” would be “Versprichst du mir das?”

You see the problem?

What Google translate gave you is not wrong necessarily. It is a correct translation in a certain context. Only that it’s not the context you want to portray. So if you do use google translate or similar, give as much context as you possibly can.

Direct translations and when not to translate Sometimes, it’s honestly just better to don’t translate something at all. This might sound weird at first, but hear me out

I’ve seen it a couple of times that people will put military ranks into google translate and then have König refer to people by those titles.  

A couple of issues with that.

Again. Context. Say for example you give google the word “Captain”. It will give you the word used in the navy, which would be “Kapitän”. However, the actual equivalent rank in the army would be “Hauptmann”

Titles and ranks are rarely actually translated. Sometimes because they don’t have an equivalent or it’s too much of a hassle to mentally search for it or even just because they’re counted as part of the name. So, even if the entire sentence is in German, König would for example still say “Sergeant MacTavish” to Soap instead of “Feldwebel MacTavish”

When it comes to other direct translations, it just doesn’t work sometimes. Different languages don’t just have different words for things, they have different contexts and cultures associated with it. Languages work differently.

Another example for the last one in terms of pet names. Do not translate English pet names directly. It doesn’t work.

Let’s take “love”. Google Translate gives you “Liebe” as the translation. Which is not wrong, that’s the translation for the noun. The pet name however does not work like that, which is something I’ll touch on in the pet names part.

A problem is also that sometimes, your target language has more words, sometimes it has less. The best thing would be to look up a word in an actual bilingual dictionary. PONS is a great example.

Writing bilingual characters For the love of god, please don’t write bilingual characters switching their language in the middle of their sentence. I know that Activision didn’t do that much better, considering that König’s voice lines often do this mistake, but that’s not how bilingual people talk.

If we don’t know a word, we try to find a way around it. We don’t just say our native word, unless there’s someone around who speaks our native language or the two languages are related. Spanish and Italian would be a prime example for that but also German and Dutch, the Slavic languages or Nordic languages amongst each other.

Curses are an exception to this. At least personally, I do use German curses when talking to English-speakers. But even that is rare and really only happens as a knee-jerk reaction. Somebody scaring me, for example.

But other than that? Bilingual characters are completely able to separate their native language from any others they have learned.

Besides, König would have started learning English fairly young, I assume. I can only speak for the German education system but here, English became mandatory in 4th grade and was only droppable by grade 11. 

For smut writers I’m just gonna go ahead and say it: no German-speaker I know, me included, finds German dirty talk sexy. And to us, other German accents are also not considered hot. They’re just…weird.

Really, just once I want to see König absolutely cringing at using German in bed, especially if it’s heavily accented because that would be an accurate representation XD

Pet names Keep in mind that with German being a gendered language, a lot of these have a male and female version. Also take a look at the disclaimers. Just because these are actual pet names doesn’t mean people actually use them.  

Liebling – darling

meine Liebe (fem.)/mein Lieber (masc.) – my love; rare as an actual pet name and rather used in a teasing sense

Maus/Mausi/Mäuschen – mouse/little mouse/cute mouse

Spatz/Spatzi/Spätzchen – sparrow/little sparrow/cute sparrow

Hase/Hasi/Häschen – bunny/little bunny/cute bunny

Schatz/Schazi/Schätzchen – treasure/little treasure/cute treasure; Schätzchen can be very condescending if used towards woman and in general, this one is a 50/50 thing. Either you love it or you hate it. Personally, I know more people that hate it, but there are also some psychos that use this unironically  

Engel/Engelchen – angel/cute angel

Süße (fem.)/Süßer (masc.) – sweet one; same as Schatz. Not really liked and can be very creepy, especially if used on women

Herzblatt –This is rather used when talking about your partner instead of talking to them. As far as I know, it comes from the heart cards in a card deck and basically means your partner is good luck

Another thing to watch out for: the word for a platonic friend is the same as a boyfriend/girlfriend.

Freund (masc.)/Freundin (fem.) = platonic friend

Freund (masc.)/Freundin (fem.) = boyfriend/girlfriend

Oftentimes, the latter is often made clear through saying “fester Freund/feste Freundin”, which would mean something like permanent or attached friend (don’t question it).

Sometimes it also depends on context again: “eine Freundin”, meaning “a female friend” is often seen as platonic vs. “meine Freundin” with “meine” meaning “mine”, it is often interpreted as romantic.

Some more terms for spouses would be

Ehemann (masc.) – husband

Ehefrau (fem.) – wife

mein Mann (masc.)/meine Frau (fem.) – shortened version of husband and wife

Lebensgefährte (masc. or neutral)/Lebensgefährtin (fem.) – literally means “life partner” and refers to either a husband/wife or an otherwise long-term romantic partner

Partner (masc. or neutral)/Partnerin (fem.) – just means partner

Curses Ah, yes. Let is just be said there are a lot of curses in German and we can get quite creative too. Sometimes, insults and curses can just be everyday words used in a certain sense. I shall compile some general ones here, however, as well as some of my personal favorites

I have to assume that some of these are a special quirk of my native dialect, so use with caution.

Scheiße – shit

verdammt – damn

verdammte Scheiße – fucking hell (literally “damned shit”)

Schnauze/Klappe/Fresse! – shut up!

Halt die Schnauze/Klappe/Fresse! – shut your mouth!

Fick dich – fuck you

Leck mich am Arsch – kiss my ass

Leck mich – kiss my ass, but shortened

Hackfresse – refers to someone who is ugly (literally “a face like ground beef”)

Arschloch – asshole

Du kannst mich mal – similar to fuck you/fuck me

Hast du Lack gesoffen? – are you crazy? (literally “did you drink paint?”)

alternatively: Er/Sie hat zu viel Lack gesoffen – He/she is crazy (literally “He/She drank too much paint”)

Du bist dumm wie ein Meter Feldweg – literally “You’re as stupid as a meter of dirt road”, means someone is being very stupid

Du denkst auch nur von der Wand bis zur Tapete – literally “Your train of thought reaches from the wall to the tapestry”, also meaning someone is very stupid

Intelligenzallergiker – someone allergic to intelligence, so very stupid

Warmduscher – refers to a very whiny/sensitive person (literally “someone who takes a warm shower”), mainly used for men

Nervensäge – refers to someone who is very annoying (“someone who saws your nerves”)

Arschkriecher – refers to someone who tries to earn the favor of another, in a very annoying way (“someone who crawls in someone else’s ass”)

Pissnelke – a nerd or know-it-all (literally made up of the words “piss” and “carnation”)

Arschgeige – annoying idiot (comes from the words “ass” and “violin”)

[gothimp]

tagged by @archonfurina in a cute new game

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭…

01. a character you love.

Shadowheart… she’s my wife she’s my best friend she’s my mirror she’s my narrative foil I just love her. Her design is so delicious too. My husband actually got a necklace custom made for my birthday right after the game dropped that looks exactly like Shadowheart’s circlet

02. your favourite food from your culture.

Americans really changed the game with corn dogs and peanut butter. They’re like the only two foods that make me feel patriotic. Also if we’re talking about roots shepherds pie and cottage pie have a big tradition in my family and instantly make me feel at home

03. what your dream apartment / room / house is like.

We’re actually about to move cross country and trade our 3 bedroom house for an apartment so I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I really like a clean but moody aesthetic. Minimal knick-knacks but some silver framed art, colored glass vases. I’m hesitant to say dark academia but maybe just like a slightly less cluttered whimsigoth?

04. your personal style or aesthetic.

Lots of cool tones and dark colors. I prefer looser more gender neutral cuts when I can but when I’m feeling more feminine I LOVE a patterned fishnet + band tee combo. I also wear a lot of hair accessories like hair sticks and claw clips (these sunnies have been on my wishlist forever, and those vans are my favorite shoes I currently have)

05. a happy memory.

Seeing Hozier for his wasteland baby tour :) it was at the beautiful orpheum theater and the whole show was so dreamy

06. your favourite way(s) to spend time.

Playing D&D, writing, playing video games with my husband, horror movies, reading, going on road trips, sunbathing.

07. story behind your url / title / quote / description / icon.

As far as my url, my favorite pokemon is Grimmsnarl!! I love the dark/fairy dual typing. Also I love the use of imps as familiars.

08. something that comforts you or brings you joy.

My kitties 🩵 they are my little house goblins and I love them so much.

09. what you’re looking forward to.

MOVING!!!! Get me out of the south please 😭

10. something else that’s important to you.

I saw Dev Patel’s Monkey Man weeks ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I didn’t even catch all the complexities because I don’t know much about eastern cultures but it’s one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and the symbolism I did catch blew me away. Please watch Monkey Man. Please.

Taglist below 🩵

@haarleps @razz-berry @elvves @estevnys @dragonologist-phd

@superhaught @avallachs @devilbrakers @leopardmuffinxo @pitchmoss

@dragonsplague @vvanessaives @katsigian @mapeslyrup @feykiller @fullyclothedmolerat

[betterbemeta]

A thing that sucks about TERFs consuming all discussions about Second Wave Feminism (1960s - 1990s) is that everything transphobes want to do to trans people represents a walking-back for all gender equality to before that time: the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

(I know that's USA-centric. I live in the USA. Other countries have had their own timeline for civil rights and are better discussed by people who are more familiar. The UK for example partially adopted the UN's ICERD in 1965, but didn't adopt a Sex Discrimination Act until 1975.)

That aside, issues from around that time have direct analogs to trans rights today:

The right to choose your legal name (originally: the right for women to retain their original names in marriage)

Normal life and fashion in one's preferred clothing. (see: modern 'drag bans' or 'dress codes' based on 'biological gender')

women being addressed as they prefer, not based on external assignments or societal roles. (today, it's 'pronouns', yesterday it was 'Ms.' as an alternative to marriage-based titles, or the normalization of women using professional titles like "Dr.")

Full independent participation in public life/right to one's own finances, housing, etc. Overall, being considered legitimate members of society. (in the USA this fight is still ongoing! Phyllis Shafly's grave is of course a gender neutral bathroom.)

Equality in the workplace. I don't have a link for this one besides the Equal Pay Act of 1963 which only covers compensation and doesn't actually regulate corporate structures. But there is a direct lineage of reactionary thought from the rejection of women in labor forces post WWII -> 2nd wave feminism's fight for labor legitimacy (which when White Feminism'd becomes like... Girlboss Politics) -> today where the USA's right wing politics does not want any Human Resources Department to enforce diversity policies despite also making corporate activities almost impossible to directly regulate in my country.

There are definitely more causes that match up. And the victories of these causes have been limited: favoring the most advantaged people in our society over everyone else who needs them. Many of them come packaged with anti-racist civil rights victories; successful feminist actions are also going to be antiracist actions for this reason, and the reactionary right sees the defeat of racial and gender equality as a package deal.

The worst damage that TERFs can do that isn't to any actual people is to history. By obscuring 2nd wave feminist history as a purely 'radfem' history, they erase the direct connection between historical antifeminism and modern transphobia. Hell, historical antifeminism and historical transphobia, considering trans people have been here since the beginning. 'What rights should women have?' cannot exist as a political question without first asking, 'Who is a woman and who decides that?'

[idyllic-ghost]

CONGRATS ON 2K!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 in celebration i am here to humbly request an angsty blurb for the following: woozi + fantasy au + "i had a dream about you" + "what do you mean you're not supposed to make it out alive?" (or if you are more inspired to write for a different svt member that's fine too i love them all 💜)

a/n: THANK YOU SAVV !! it's so scary that you picked my favorite things, can you read my mind ??? also- i had so much trouble keeping this a blurb, but i tried my best !!

title: one final moment

pairing: king!woozi x elf!reader

warnings: death, gender neutral reader but leaning masc, angst, forbidden love-ish

word count: 1.6k

join in on the celebration!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The water was cool around your legs as you waded through the brook. Although there were rocks that you could walk over instead, you knew it would be reckless - the stones were covered in greenery and had gotten slippery from the water. You stopped right in front of the edge of the other side of the brook. The body of water was the only thing dividing two kingdoms - that of humans and elves. Looking back to your side of the stream, you could tell elves were watching over you between the trees.

Turning back to where you were going, you finally took the step across kingdom lines. As if on cue, out of the trees arrived the king on his white horse. You smiled and straightened out your clothes - a traditional royal robe from your elven kingdom.

"Hello, your majesty," you greeted.

Lee Jihoon got off his horse and approached you with haste, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he had gotten close enough. You stumbled back with a soft laugh but stood steady on your feet. His comforting scent filled your nose, and your hands tangled themselves in his long, black hair. Closing your eyes, you let relaxation take over you. You were glad that the guards you had brought with you knew when to keep quiet.

"I've missed you," Jihoon murmured in the crook of your neck, "So much."

You didn't respond, but he knew you felt the same way from the way you placed a kiss on his temple. The king was notoriously a lonesome wolf, at least to his people. He never married or got an heir - he never followed the steps that had been laid out for him. It didn't seem to matter, the people loved him anyway. He was a righteous king.

"I had a dream about you," you whispered, "And you must listen closely."

Everyone in your kingdom, every last elf, had some sort of power. Whether that'd be an elemental power or darker magic, everyone was born with something. You had foretelling dreams and used them frequently - you didn't get all of the contexts, and you couldn't decide what your vision would be about. However, whenever you did get a dream, you acted on it.

"I know that you have called a meeting of the kingdoms. I need you to send an invitation to my kingdom as well- I know that our countries don't-"

"Consider it done, my love." Jihoon let go of you to look at you properly.

His hand cupped your cheek and, by the way he was looking at you, it felt impossible to look away from his eyes. You hadn't gotten to finish your sentence, but now all of your words were lost. Tears flooded in your eyes at the thought of the foreboding nightmare, and you hid your face in his chest to run away from the images you had seen.

"I wonder if you'd be so sure if you knew what would happen," you sniffled.

"Then tell me."

"You know I can't." You looked back up at him. "But it has to happen, and I must be there for you."

"Fine," he sighed, "I trust you."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Seeing the inside of Jihoon's castle for the first time was not what you had expected. The decor did not match the man at all, and it left you feeling on edge - although it was unsure if that was because you knew what was to come.

You walked with your head high, knowing that everyone was staring. If you just closed your eyes, you could dream yourself back to the forest. In your heart, you knew that you didn't have to do this - but you couldn't even force yourself to leave. This had to be done, or you could never forgive yourself.

Jihoon greeted each royal attending himself, looking everyone in the eye and welcoming them with a warm yet stern smile. You were the last to join him in the hall. He grabbed your hand, his warm skin sending shivers down your spine when it touched yours. When he looked into your eyes, you never wanted to look away.

"Thank you for coming." Was all he said.

"Thank you for having me." Was all you answered.

You didn't have to say more. When you saw how he looked at you, you already knew all that he wanted to do. Squeezing his hand, you finally let go and went to your seat. Everything was as it should be, as you remembered from your dream.

The night went on, you talked and ate and laughed. All in a very superficial, polite way. Even if you wanted to, you were too nervous to act normally and enjoy yourself. On top of that, you found yourself avoiding Jihoon - but when you saw him sneak out of the room, while the rest were busy with poorly handling their ale, you followed him - which he quickly noticed.

He had hidden away in the garden. While there was only a door separating you from the others, an open door at that, it felt as if you could live in your bubble for a moment. You sat down on the bench beside him. In your dream he had been sitting alone, so you knew to keep him company now.

"You look striking tonight, your highness," he said and grasped your hand in his.

"You look quite handsome as well, your majesty." You smiled knowingly at him.

Jihoon intertwined his fingers with yours, seemingly building up the courage to say something. You looked around you, before bringing his hand to your lips and kissing the back of it. A small act of affection that left the king's ears burning red.

"I'm glad I invited you tonight," he said, "You haven't been bothered by anyone here yet, have you?"

"Not just yet." You shook your head.

He looked at you as if he wanted to say something more, to question your somber expression or the way you kept squeezing his hand harder and harder. However, he never did.

"This is for the better," you hummed, "You'll understand later on, but... if anyone's supposed to make it out of here alive, it's not me."

"What do you mean you're not supposed to make it out of here alive?" he was quick to ask.

"Just a moment, my love," you whispered, for if you spoke any louder you feared it would come out as a sob, "Just let me have a moment with you where we're not of any importance to anyone but ourselves."

Jihoon watched you with horror as you leaned your body against his. Nevertheless, he put his emotions to the side for you - putting his hand on your back and bringing you in even closer. You felt his tears fall on your shoulder - even he knew that there was nothing he could do, not when you had put your stubborn mind to it and especially not when it was fate.

"Why would you do this for me?" he mumbled.

"You're the king, I'm nothing but an ambassador on the royal court," you chuckled and looked at him again with teary eyes, "At least, that's the simple answer. Words cannot describe my feelings for you, your majesty, they would not do you justice."

He cupped your face in the palms of his hands and wiped away tears that you never realized you had wept. If anyone were to be with you the moment that your life on Earth ended, it would be him - you were happy it was you and the king.

"I love you, you stupid bastard." Jihoon laughed through his tears. "Why do you use fate against me in this way?"

"Don't loathe fate, my love," you murmured, "It's what brought us together."

The clocks rang from the bell tower on the other side of the castle - and you leaned in to give him one last kiss. After pulling away, you reached around your neck and took off your necklace. A pendant with the stone you were given after your birth - a protective gem. As you reached over him and tied the necklace around his neck, you felt something sharp shoot into your back. Your body had shielded his at just the right moment. The poison arrow had settled just below your chest, and you were already losing a lot of blood - it covered Jihoon's hands as he desperately tried to do something to help.

"Don't call upon anyone," you whispered in a strained voice as you watched Jihoon panic and try to get help, "Stay with me instead. Just for a moment, right?"

Jihoon settled down beside you again, handling your fading body with a gentle touch. Now it was your turn to cup his cheek in your hand.

"Listen to me, Jihoon. Take in each one of my words." You wiped away his tears. "Find someone to marry, and make sure to get an heir. I don't care if you love her but love that child. Make them half of the ruler that you are and I'm sure that we'll all be fine. I'll watch over you... I am the dew in the grass on a Spring morning, I am the rumble of thunder during Summer showers, I am the red leaves of Autumn, and I am the snow that falls in Winter. I'll watch over you for every season that passes- and when you have reached your last, after a good life, you'll see me again, my love."

He couldn't get another word in, as he had bit down on his tongue to not let out any sobs or cries for help. You smiled at him and thought that there was no other fate you wanted than to die being held by your lover.