#muse: boromir

[boundlss]

have you ever asked yourself what if boromir was a catboy and also alive. if you have a problem with me being a catboy enjoyer you can leave

[sonxofxgondor]

@thegreatstrongbow asked: ❛it would be a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity.❜

Sexual Tension Prompts.

Cheeks dried from their tears, no longer wet from the sorrows spread, the comfort of Aragorn had done much to bring peace onto Boromir. Settled the troubles of his mind, his inner most spirit; thoughts and woes so awful that they dared not to be spoken aloud. Torments of fire and ash, dead all around, corpses rotted from the inside with hearts still bleeding, full of life and vigor. Good men and women of Gondor, who had sacrificed more than they should, for the sake of everyone who called the lands that surrounded the Fellowship home. From the Misty Mountains to the Shire, Lothlorien a realm that disguised its hurts beneath delicate song and silvered light. Beautiful and breathtaking - strange to Boromir but in the most pleasant of ways, as though he stepped into a world undiscovered before. Voices within his head had ceased for the time. Calmed in their words, deep within the curves and confusions, hope nurtured. Galadriel, kind and fairest lady, dressed in gold and white; Boromir found his smile again.

Disappearance of one friend given chance for the arrival of another, it was the seat beside Boromir that Beleg took, tree-base warmed by the body of Aragorn. Absorbed by the space shared between them, with joy did the two men converse together. About everything and anything, tales of simpler years and the adventures of family, feats of either Man or Elf. Beleg was honest and blunt. Cheerful as he told all stories - from the lips of one first born - the slow recollection of old memories. What had been forgotten but was no longer. What was still yet to be unearthed. Returned to Middle-Earth by the hands of Mandos; there was mention of Turin, beloved brother and friend, an incident of death. Boromir stopped not in his own reminiscence; described Faramir and Denethor, the loss of Finduilas, the gentle people of Minas Tirith, of all Gondor. It was only when his rambles rested, laughter spent on his lips, grin so wide, that it became known that they were pressed so close.

Twisted entire on the tree root that they sat upon, thick and sturdy, knees touching and the cloths of their tunics brushing. So close that Boromir could see the perfection of Beleg's skin; riddled not by the cruelty of the summer sun, smooth in look, tanned. Accompanied by darkened eyes - irises of invitation - memories of childhood, walks during autumn when leaves blew in the breeze. Flickered between brunette and umber, breath nearest his skin awoke a spark in Boromir, coaxed an unexpected shiver, the scent of Beleg. Centuries old but ageless to the touch; something to be yearned for, wholly desired, an invisible string that pulled Boromir ever closer. As though cheated by some spell, the question of a kiss danced in the airs, what was not drawn into Boromir's breathless lungs. Brave suggestion; Beleg stole the words from Boromir, quiet and almost missed themself.

"Yes. I do suppose it would be, Beleg." Boromir agreed, excitement lifted at the end, blush on his face, tongue dragged across his lips, a hunger in his belly.

"I would want nothing more than that - to have your kiss on my lips. But... it's been so long since I've shared in one. All my days have been dedicated to battle and glory; I remember little of what to do."

Boromir promised, moved to Beleg so that no gap laid between, as if their bodies could become one despite the layers on their skins, hands splayed on the tree bark below, a crutch. "And yet, I'd give anything to learn again with you. Beleg, can you not see that I find you beautiful? Not before you have I ever seen a more handsome man; none so brave as you nor as wise. Your kindness to me and our friends, it has only furthered the sentiment. It would be an honor to have your kiss, a pleasure. But take not my words lightly, Beleg. I would not allow our actions of eagerness to shame you or I. A kiss between us, as brothers in the fight we endure, as a soldier committed to his people, it means everything. It cannot be done for foolish sakes. Gods forgive me if we were spotted by our companions, the Lord and Lady! Kiss me now in this vow, or do not give me your taste at all."

"Beleg, let it not be a shame... a wasted opportunity..." Boromir whispered after silence passed, a plea from starved lips, desperate hands. "If it be of your will, as much as mine, let us do as we may. Kiss me, Beleg. Kiss me now; for I can't wait another moment!"

[sqvirely]

[mvndrvke]

DAUGHTERS OF GONDOR.

boromir has three daughters. because he and their mother are not married, they are considered illegitimate, but boromir loves and cares for them and is open about the fact that he is their father. they lived in west osgiliath until their mother's death, after which they moved to minas tirith for their safety.

AELWYN, the eldest, was born when boromir was still fairly young. she is hardworking and opinionated, but keeps these feelings close to her chest. she is the silent force of the family, keeping them together and things moving, especially after the death of her mother. ( fc : ruby serkis )

MIRANDA was born two years after aelwyn. she is more wild than her sister, and has dreams of being a knight and savior of gondor like her father. she has little patience for the rules of society, and is frustrated that she is considered a bastard because her parents weren't married when she was born, but she lets this frustration fuel her in her pursuit of more. ( fc : millie brady )

CALLIOPE is the youngest of boromir's daughters. of a very delicate constitution, calliope was very dependent on her mother until her death. necessity made her independent, and she became fairly self sufficient after moving to minas tirith with her sisters. ( fc : nadia parkes )

please do not reblog

[queen-scribbles]

Muse questions - I'm gonna direct these at whichever of your LOTRO hobbits seems best suited to answer each!

What is in your pockets/bag/etc. right now? (I mean. How could we not ask this of a hobbit? :-D)

What scares you the most? And if it really happened… how would you deal with it?

Do you have any pets? If so, what are their names? What are they like personality-wise? Can we see them?

Do you have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? Do you go out of your way to always wear it when you can? Why is it your favorite?

What is in your pockets/bag/etc. right now?

Rhianlin: In my bag? *after some rummaging* Let's see.... treats for Rilli(raven comp) and Constance(badger pet), string for my braid.... *more rummaging, interrupted by a whoop of pleased surprise* THAT'S WHERE THAT WENT- a sketch I wanted to give Meneldir but couldn't find last night, some hard tack he gave me in case I get hungry, half an apple, sketchbook and charcoal, jerky.... couple changes of clothes, cornhusk d- figure Tegwyn gave me- it has a stick sword! Isn't that neat?

What scares you the most? And if it really happened… how would you deal with it?

Ziinia: Y'know, I hadn't really thought about that? *laughs* I guess either something happening that keeps me apart from my animals, or something bad happening to my family--there's a lot of us and we're all really close. I like to think I'd keep it together and think of a solution if either actually occurred, but I dunno. I love my family and my animals, so I'm not sure I wouldn't completely fall apart if one of those came to pass.

Do you have any pets? If so, what are their names? What are they like personality-wise? Can we see them?

Siltera: I've picked up a few in my travels. There's Rushes, she's a hound dog, very good for sniffing out mushrooms and following a scent, also loves to sleep. Looks at me with big sad eyes if I wake her early. Puddle is a black cat, doesn't much care what I do as long as I remember to feed her and will spend enough time sitting still she can use me as a seat part of the day. Squall is a crow I found out near Clegur; an avanc had knocked him into some reeds and his wing got caught. I wasn't expecting him to follow me around after I freed him, but he did. He's very good, if a touch mischievous. Likes to let out one ridiculous caw in the wee hours of the morning, just for the fun of it. Sometimes he brings me trinkets, I think in thanks for not shooing him off.

(have wiki pictures of the pets bc I don't have screenies of them myself)

Do you have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? Do you go out of your way to always wear it when you can? Why is it your favorite?

Rhianlin: My blouse. My ma made it for me, an' put lots of pretty embroidery on the collar and sleeves, an' around the buttons. It's very soft and reminds me of home, so, yeah, I wear it a lot. [River Hobbit cosmetic blouse]

Ziinia: My gloves. I picked up these very sturdy fingerless gloves... awhile ago, and they've come in handy for so many things. I wear them just about all the time. [I thought they were anniversary cosmetic, but I don't see them listed]

Siltera: *sheepish smile* Mine's actually a somewhat recent addition that was given to me while I was traveling through Tharbad. *tugs out a sturdy cord necklace with a wolf's tooth hanging from it* It was given to me by a... fellow traveler--all the way from Gondor!--after I helped him retrieve some stolen property. *tucks it away, bites her lip* He was very kind, very courteous, and spun a wonderful story. He called this a lucky charm, and it's certainly proven so for me. [Lucky Wolf's Tooth pocket item from Boromir]

Muse Asks

[the-solar-panel]

@wrxthfulguard asked: Don was still exploring the Astral Express, eventually finding the archives after remembering Welt's directions to said area... He entered quietly, also remembering that Welt said that a crew member also resides in the archives: A man named Dan Heng. (For my Modern! AU)

Dan Heng doesn't even register that someone's entered the archives, instead remaining silent and seated in one corner of the room as Don wanders inside.

[shinseifer]

I always talk about how Boromir's speech is, in fact, pretty persuasive on the face of it. The plan of sending a lone halfling into Mordor is, to reason and good sense, absolutely raving insane. In any even slightly more cynical and less faith-based work of fiction, including many by so-called heirs of Tolkien, Boromir would have been absolutely right. He was proven wrong specifically by the peculiar moral landscape of The Lord of the Rings. It's an underappreciated aspect of the One Ring how its temptations made sense, when not tempered by such virtues as humility and hope (that are not always considered virtues in modern fiction, not in the same way). Tolkien was not writing about a scary black magic thingie that made you become evil. He was reflecting on the quite real nature of Power as an abstract concept.

you: boromir succumbed to the ring because he was faithless, selfish and the weakest member of the fellowship

me, an intellectual: boromir held such belief in the power of good over evil and the strength of the people of middle earth that he literally believed with enough willpower they could turn sauron's work against him. he was absolutely convinced that with enough goodness and love and solidarity they could overcome the most fundamental evil. the ring used those beliefs and used them to isolate boromir from the fellowship because that's what it does - it takes people's good attributes and uses them to twist them into something serving its own purposes. the ring literally could only corrupt boromir because he was a fundamentally good and faithful person at heart. in this essay i will

[nurerentaen]

“ stay by my side . ” \\ For Pippin, if that's okay!

The wind was cooler, the grass under the rock moss wetter, the sun's rays, however, still tangled its play down the face and curls of reddish brown. No grim day for a traveler. Tobacco circle burns bright orange, smoke collides with cavity delivered by curve of slim-carved stem aged by moons and wayfare. ' What little else to do than gather Celeblam plants nearby. ' - a mere mutter to one's self masquerading behind riches of secondary inhalation. The magnitude of coy dwelled in complete reconciliation that physically any gentleman coming from Shire cannot compete with the power of men, elves, nor dwarves, by stout nor endurance but by resilient pride and slackery alone; speaking of latter he was remarkably good at it.

Other comrades are keen to guard the crossings from afar. Legolas? Was it not his sight that caught the faintest rustling of the leaf miles and miles away? A doughty thought for toll-neglecting Took to let his mind sway in peace instead of peeking one's shoulder per whiff every now and then.

'' I assure you, master shield-slinger, that willingly shall I not run to arms of warfare as long as you stay in my vicinity. " Wording worth a pinky promise. And truly, why would they march directly into superior numbers instead of hastening the other way around?

" I believe this might be a matter for you, " a pipe lifted as an offering to his grin, quirks hidden in each crook of twitching cheek.

❥𝐐𝐔���𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 (   𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏   ) [  𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂  ]   . || @sonxofxgondor

[boundlss]

@lightbeariing ( aragorn ) / starter that technically had plotting behind it. ( boromir )

Boromir hardly hears the clatter of his sword gently hitting the ground as his grasp on its hilt loosens, nor does he even spare a glance in the direction of the weapon when Aragorn manages to pin him to the cold floor.

It's not unusual, Aragorn winning. To call it "usual" would be presumptuous, though; in many ways, the two of them are eachother's perfectly even match, and Boromir is just as often victorious. There isn't anything particularly different, even, about the manner in which Aragorn has won.

And yet, Boromir feels the bubbling of something inescapable in his throat, looking at Aragorn's eyes---still filled with adrenaline, lively despite his age and his position. It's rare to see that nowadays, times being what they are. Things are peaceful with Rohan, thanks in large part to Faramir, but Boromir's heart is still held captive by the battlefield. At least, that's what he tells himself to explain away his attraction to the fight that gets drawn out of Aragorn in these stolen moments of sparring.

He never wants it to be quelled again.

"You're beautiful."

The thought slips out without Boromir's knowledge. He's too fixed on drinking up what he can of that expression before it fades with the fight's end.

[singswan-springswan]

bespoke: Boromir's strength was his weakness; his passion for his people and his undying loyalty to them was what blinded him, even made him indifferent, to the needs of others. He was unwilling to sacrifice the prospect of Gondor's glory for the good of all peoples. Though his desire for strength came from a point of genuity, it ultimately crowded out his view of the bigger picture and eroded his understanding of the mission of the Fellowship. In the end, it's what Sauron used to twist his heart.

broke: Boromir was corrupted by the ring because he was weak of heart

woke: Boromir was corrupted because his heart was full. full of love for his brother, for Gondor, for Minas Tirith. Does that make his heart weak? Does a heart motivated by passions and the desire to help others make it weak? Is it wrong and evil to be weak? friendly reminder, the way Sauron deceived Boromir was not by promising him wealth, nor power, nor his own safety- he thought he would be strong enough to defend a whole city and defeat Sauron. Boromir had a heart that was neither weak nor strong, but both at the same time- his heart was full.

[sonxofxgondor]

@rangers-arecool asked: [ WALL ]

Sexual Tension Prompts. \\ Your muse pins my muse against the closest wall. \\ + reverse

Serious was the scowl that carved onto Boromir's face. Lines about his brow pronounced and unmoved, corners of his mouth pulled downward nearest the tile floor, where his boots fell into an experienced soldier's march. One foot then the other; exited from the council chambers and driven elsewhere thereafter. Mordor shaken to its very roots, collapsed into the earth, returned to dust, still was there much left to do. For all who had survived - the beggars and the vagabonds, widowed mothers and childless families, the betrayers and turncoat friends. At the right hand of Elessar, as every proud steward had promised before to their own great kings, Boromir was entrusted with valued charges. Provide peace to those who needed comfort, forgiveness for those who felt ashamed, justice against those who ran murderous. Blades still dripping with the blood of the good and the innocent - in honor of a name that was forever vanquished - Boromir swore to see them finished.

Aragorn's orders within his head, repeated in endless cycle, it was by distraction alone that the hands that grabbed Boromir found their chance. Fingers dug into the collar of his shirt, burgundy scrunched around nails. A force unexpected pushed against him - until his back was met with the stability of wall, glossy white marble that remained unchanged despite the ages passed. No crack nor stain to be noted; the protest of shock upon his tongue was silenced by a kiss that he so knew well. Berries of the wild and light smoke, the signs that a campfire had once been sat near, a ranger who danced in the wood. Untouched by the rise and falls of legend, Hal still the same as she ever was. Just as she was loved most; with the recognition, Boromir melted into her kiss, allowed for himself to be pinned motionless for her sake and his.

Their bodies pressed so close, Boromir chased Hal's kisses, delighted in how they warmed him. From the tips of his toes all the way up to the ends of his hair, until the only taste he could recall was her. Bittersweet and addictive; teeth nibbled softly the flesh, tongue parted the lips until two danced as one. Encouraged a whimper of pleasure so deeply placed, from the belly and so primal. Pinned still to the wall, Boromir growled in frustration, fell more into the madness, the indulgence Hal imparted. Trailed his kisses from mouth to cheek, point of the chin and across the jawline.

"My love! We must stop this - lest someone catches us!"

Boromir mumbled in smirk, wishing more than anything to keep on, his words breathless and light, his kisses slowed. "My Hal, have pity upon me, please. I can't bear much more of your perfect torture. I have missed you so. To have gone all day without the sight of your gorgeous face, it's a pain unlike any other. You will have me made a ruined steward if we do not stop now. Mercy! Have mercy, darling!"

[sqvirely]

[mvndrvke]

i think boromir is gonna have a couple daughters, maybe growing up in osgiliath or something idk but wherever they're from he does not talk about them with his dad and isn't married to their mom

[sonxofxgondor]

Ached and sore limbs pushed ever further, the final strain that came about from a squat and descend, onto a bench that supported both the thighs and the tender muscles of the back. Shoulders that seemed burden by the weight of the whole world upon them, thus relieved and comforted by more than just gentle companionship, the heft of a cup between Boromir's dirty hands, thereafter raised to his lips and savored. Warmed from the elements but sweet to taste; a remedy not so commonly served in Gondor, flavors unsampled before but nevertheless pleased by, the rush of refreshment perfect for a parched tongue and dry throat. Perspiration on the forehead already started to clear away, the last droplets finding safe landing on a tunic neckline, Boromir did as was told. Caught his breath - the lift of his chest eased into a much slower, lackadaisical pace - rested his weary body until the hurt throughout it abated. Converted into a dull throb; able to be borne for the time that remained with Rocheru, the precious seconds devoted to pastures and story-sharing.

Offered drink returned to Rocheru, blush and smile bloomed. Boromir reformed to a child much younger than his age - distant years when such terms of endearment were not so foreign, spoken as freely as the horses who were under the elder Elf's care. When there was love to be found in words and not direct orders, before gentle caress was replaced by war strategy and combat technique. Stunned to absolute silence, for even his exhale was suspended between them, he and Rocheru, Boromir merely stared at his feet on the ground. Rounded toe tips that were baked in stable mud and hay; tears strung within the eyes, threatened to boil over but the resolve of a steward-prince able to restrain. Prevent their flow and subdue all others; the choked voice, the staggered inhale of delicious Rivendell winds, the tremble dispersed across entire physique. Repercussions for Boromir's terrible faults. His lack of control, sudden slip and fall into behaviors declared most unsuitable for someone of his nature, his privilege and birth, with a cough into the bend of his elbow did he regather himself.

Marshaled his thoughts - against the trace of being called dear one - murmurs propinquity to specters unseen, into the canal of the ears. Regained the wits that almost abandoned him, Gwilwileth delivered into focus both within mind and confession.

Boromir began, glance traded from shoes to Rocheru, an almost shy expression upon his face. "Well, Sir, in honest, all credit for my progress must be ascribed to you. Your lessons, they have shown me much in the ways of horses. What to do, what not to do. Truly, I've only done as you've taught me. Well... most."

"I have noticed that Gwilwileth looks on me every time I wander into her pastures. As if I were some strange thing that stumbled in - a funny little bug or a dog with just three legs. Whenever I set to do my chores, I felt her gaze upon me. For a bit, I feared her eyes would burn holes into my shirt! I continued to do as you told - fed her and her kin, mucked out their stalls, cleaned their hooves and brushed their manes. I never dared to get close to her. She did not seem the sort to welcome unwanted attention, nor would I ever try to disobey your orders. Sir, you made those very clear, and I do not intend to bring disrespect toward you, nor your kind or your animals. My father would not want to hear of it; I wouldn't want to bear it."

Boromir carried on. "And so, I kept my distance from her. Physically, that is. It's quite funny, actually, Rocheru, sir. I started to talk to her. I spoke to her as I do with you and the other Elves in Rivendell. I shared stories of my home. I explained the history of my people, the awesomeness of Gondor. I told her of my family and friends, my father and my little brother, the girl who kissed my cheek when I saved her kitten from a tree. I admitted to some of my fears. I reenacted my greatest victories! All achieved in the efforts of my training, yes, but just as fantastic, I assure you! Sir, I think Gwilwileth has begun to consider me a friend, of sorts. Though talk has been more so one-sided, I do think she sees me as more than your loyal pupil. I have earned her trust. In the very least, I do hope so!"

"I have never had a friend like that. None other than the hounds that make up my father's hunting party or the messenger dogs of the army. My responsibilities don't allow me the time for such. I do think, though, Sir, I would love to have one. A friendship of that kind; something hard-earned and fought for. Not made because of where I am, of who I am. I suppose, I just have to prove my truthful intentions with Gwilwileth, do I not? Maybe, Sir, you could show me how?"

Brief passes into blissful lull, the time Boromir spent checking his nails and watching Rocheru's response, he remembered. "Ah! Rocheru, you must tell me! What did you have in mind for today? Before my mind forgets me entire, I must know!"

There were those in the valley who frowned upon their guest's exuberant disposition, unused to such thrills in these days, when children of the eldar where scarce and age began showing in their own expressions. Boromir's untamed energy and unbridled joy of life grated at the habits of long years of memory and slower, peaceful existence. But Rocheru, though sometimes he too felt those shockwaves himself, delighted in his ward's vigour. It reminded him of his own youth, of how often he was called after by his teachers, while already galloping off on Laire's back or laughing too loud in the pearly halls of his father's palace, of finding ever more thrills in the harbour, among the ships, calling each by its name as he took his pick for that day's voyage onto the teal seas. Ever more it made him smile to see Boromir's diligence for every task set upon him, for he himself had been far more carefree and mischievous in his disposition at this age - or the equivalent of it, at least, for the years under the Trees had flown at a different pace, and still the time of maturing was different for the eldar, longer than it was for men.

Now too did his heart rejoice as he listened to the boy's recounting of the morning, and the heart warming digressions that came with it. No force could stop the bright smile which Boromir's tale brought upon Rocheru's lips, nor the fondness that shone in his sky blue eyes. He did not stop the boy at all, and waited patiently, hearing every detail of the young lad's excited thoughts he willed to share.

"Surely you must know by now I take pleasure, not pain, in listening to you, dear one." He chuckled warmly with a gentle shake of his head to reassure the boy's worry. "But do come and join me here," he said, patting the seat of the bench next to himself invitingly, "...and give your body a moment's rest for I can see you have worked hard this morning completing all your chores. And here, have a drink," he said once the boy sat beside him, putting the cup in his hands. "I've brought us enough to share so drink to your need and desire, please." He smiled.

"I have something in mind for us but first you need to catch your breath, so do tell me more about your interaction with our shy Gwilwileth." he said, curious to hear how Boromir would describe his attempts to befriend the mare, and how much of Rocheru's teachings he was able to put to use now, even if it has not been too long yet that the lad's been under his care.

[edges-of-night]

I love your headcannons, thank you very much. How do you think fellowship would react if a reader saw two cute animals and said, "Oh, it's you and me!"

Thank you very much! I’m happy to hear you enjoy this little blog ♡ Another animal request, with another anon who asked for this, too – this prompt is super cute, I hope I did it justice!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

You’re gazing at a golden twilight forest with Aragorn when you spot two deer in the distance. Just like you, one rests its head against the other. “Look,” you chuckle quietly, “it’s you and me.” Aragorn smiles as he follows your gaze. When one of the deer nuzzles the other’s ear, he, too, leans in to give you a kiss. “What an uncanny resemblance, my love,” he says and pulls you even closer.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is scandalised when you suggest that the two cats crossing your path are “just like you and me.” He has heard stories of the ruthless Gondorian queen who used felines as her spies and flinches when one of the cats hisses at him. You go to pet it instead, and it softens and purrs – just like Boromir does when you caress him – but you don’t say that part out loud ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

You and Frodo share a cool carafe of strawberry lemonade when two butterflies flutter to the flower field beside you. “Look at those,” you say, “they’re just like you and me.” – “Sharing a delicious drink in the sunlight,” Frodo agrees with a dreamy smile. You keep watching the butterflies until one of them flies right into your face. “It gave you a kiss. I shall do the same,” Frodo says and leans in to peck you ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

You’re travelling the Shire’s hills in Gandalf’s wooden cart when two sparrows almost fly right into you. You flinch but realise they’re only doing their Spring dance through the morning air – a couple! “They’re like you and me!” you laugh. Gandalf gives you an amused look. “What a subtle way to tell me we’re going to dance at tonight’s party.” – “Indeed,” you grin.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Watching the puppies play on the ground makes you soften. When one of them bites another’s ear, you playfully nudge Gimli’s head – he’s been sitting silently next to you until now. “What?” he grunts. “The dogs are doing it,” you argue with a grin. Your Dwarf protests at first about this comparison. The two of you, dogs? “I reckon it is true though,” he muses. “We are both very loyal after all. And we like food. And games. And…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

You’re making your way through Mirkwood with Legolas, crossing a tree over a small pond where you make a curious observation: “Look! The toad and dragonfly are sharing a lily pad.” You snort. “They remind me of you and me.” – “Indeed! The sunlight reflects on its wings just like in your eyes, in all the colours of the sky.” You blush and wonder whether or not Legolas knew you meant it the other way around.

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a bit sensitive about his height, but that doesn’t stop you from comparing the two of you to the horse and the pony you spot in Bree. “Hey! I’ll have you know,” Merry begins, “that ponies are very sturdy and resilient.” – “I know. Just like Hobbits.” – Merry pouts at that comment and crosses his arms, murmuring, “Fine. Just don’t braid my hair like that pony’s.” – “Perhaps…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After a proper picnic, you lie in a meadow with Pippin. Purely by chance you look to your right when two bunnies scamper out of the bushes to eat some grass. You grin and whisper, “Don’t move too fast now, but there’s tiny versions of you and me over there.” – “Tinier than me?” Pippin asks and rolls over to watch the bunnies over your belly. “Aww! They’re mighty cute, but so are we!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

You watch fondly when two ladybugs crawl over Sam’s hands, dirty from gardening but still gentle to the bugs. You smile when you hear your Hobbit talking quietly: “Right. Let me get up… there you go… over here it’s safer for you. A flower house.” You tilt your head at him. “Moving in together? Just like the two of us, you mean?” – “Hm? What? Sorry, luv, I wasn’t listenin’ there.” – “Oh, nothing…” ♡

[66stitches]

dating ellie headcanons

CW: SFW, one headcanon references modern day rather than an apocalyptic world, reader described as having hair

daily click - palestine masterpost - tlou and israel

�� If you have trouble sleeping, she’d force herself to stay up all night with you.

“It’s fine, baby. I wasn’t even tired anyway,” she says red-eyed and half asleep.

⛤ Loves innocent showers together. She’d always ask you to shampoo her hair (and tries not to drift off as you’re massaging the shampoo onto her scalp).

But when she’s applying your shampoo, she’d give you random hairstyles she finds cool. A mohawk is her go-to.

⛤ She drools in her sleep :(

⛤ She’d absolutely be the type of person to hog the swings at the playground. She is SPRINTING for it as fast as she could before a little kid gets their hands on it first.

“Sorry, little dude. I was here first,” she says as the kid’s mother is glaring at her disapprovingly from the distance.

⛤ You can’t watch a film without her comparing you to every hideous character she sees.

“Pfft, that dude looks like you.”

“Uh, Boromir?”

“No. The Uruk-hai.”

⛤ Also, The Lord of the Rings is one of her favorite film series. She’s a huge fan of Star Wars and The Terminator too.

⛤ Forces you to listen to her ranting about her favorite comic books.

“Alright, so then Dr. Daniela joins forces with other characters across the galaxies while trying to prevent the Travelers from wiping out the human race- babe, are you listening?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m listening. Go on.”

“Yeah? What was I saying?”

Shit. “Oh, Daniela Star found this thing, and… I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“It’s okay! I get that the plot can sound a little complicated. I’ll just start over from the beginning again!” 😀

⛤ She has no problem kissing you before you brush your teeth in the morning, but dodges your every kiss if you had even a single sip of coffee.

⛤ Physical touch is her biggest love language.

⛤ When she’s feeling upset, she’ll be extra affectionate with you. Not wanting to talk about her feelings but needing some physical comfort.

⛤ Writes poetry about you in her journal, especially about the first time she met you and how you made her feel. She’d die before you read any of it though.

⛤ Loves to sketch you. Her journal is filled with drawings of your eyes, your lips, your smile. You’re her favorite muse.

⛤ Bonfire dates are her favorite. Just you, her, and her guitar.

⛤ Speaks to toddlers like they’re grown ass adults.

“Don’t you think it’s fucked- sorry, messed up how many atrocities the government has forced us to be complicit in simply by paying taxes?”

The confused kid is just staring at her.

“I think this baby’s deaf.”

⛤ Loves when you scratch her back. She’ll even be bossy with it and guide your hand.

“Lower. No, wait, go up. To the left- I said left.”

⛤ A huge fan of Mortal Kombat. Okay that’s all I got