#* WRITTEN.

[geladriel]

〝 Lothlórien is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people.   There are no trees like the trees of that land.   For in the autumn their leaves fall not,   but turn to gold.   Not till the spring and the new green opens do they fall,   and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers;   and the floor of the wood is golden,   and golden is the roof,   and its pillars are of silver,   for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. 〞    (Legolas in the Fellowship of The Ring, p. 349).

It is dusk,   the autumnal air brings a slight chill,   though no greenery or Elf is in frost,   for everything is in bloom in Lórien.   The Mallorn trees,    with their golden leaves,   glow even brighter under a delight of aureate hues from the casting sun;   the Telains built on trees now shine a silver light,  the star-light glint of Caras Galadhon.   The city is alight and songlike.    For all the Elves of the fair Lórien cast their worries away in an effervescent melodic song,   just as the day comes to a close,   in preparation to feast for an evening meal,   and later blend living night and deep dream,   as is the way with Elves.

Amidst the joyous festivities of light and song,   the Lady Galadriel is in her study.   A room adorned with beautifully crafted wooden shelves,   each with their own unique design of Elven-make,   filled with literature survived from her days in Valinor,   each thought a remnant of the Years of The Trees;   of her childhood.    The desk and chair in which she currently occupies are handcrafted with the best materials of wood, intricately placed and tailored.   It is embellished with vines of effervescent green,   a harmonious contrast between the richness of mahogany.   A gift,   from Celeborn,   for he too is of the cognition that the Lady does not tire of her pursuit of knowledge.    The halcyon glow of the sun sets a halo on her golden tresses,   luminescent even further from the starlike silver of her mother's own hair.   It is in this study she most inhabits,   sleep evades her,   even in her most tiresome of days.   For as long as there is evil in Middle-earth,   she does not rest.

She gazes at a map reposed on her desk,   her eyes,   reflecting holy light   -   starlight  (a sign of her high birth in Aman under the light of the unstained White Tree and the Golden flower)   scrutinizing every inch of Middle-earth.   She is interrupted,   though not by speech or movement.   A sharp glance,   she perceives it before it occurs,   minutes before a knock is heard on the door of her study,   before a palace guard utters 〝My Lady,   we have found a human in the forests of Caras Galadhon.   He is semi-conscious and wounded.〞 It is a gift,   after all,   one she's had in the earliest of her years.   It is known that Elves possess keen sight,   bestowed upon them by Eru Ilúvatar upon their creation,   however,   the Lady Galadriel's gift of foresight and telepathy is one unmatched,   this,   united with the Ring of Water (Nenya),   nestled on her finger,   forms the Lady one of the greatest forces to remain in Middle-earth.   And for as long as she possesses the ring,   Lórien is kept pure and alive,   and no evil is permitted to penetrate it.

The Lady stands,   to the full height of her stature,   golden tresses cascading behind her back as if the great waves of Anduin are flowing through it.   The ivory in her gown casting a celestial light.   She speaks to her guards in thought,   and what they hear in their minds is the voice of their Lady,   commanding yet serene,   melodic yet succinct, 〝 I will see to this myself,   I do not wish to be followed. 〞at once,   they obey,   for they discern that no human can defeat the might of the Lady of Lothlórien;   and swiftly she moves through the aureate halls of her dwelling,   down the white stairs,   through the golden Mallorn trees,   the luminescent moon her company. She is inquisitive of the human's arrival in Lórien,   and how one might have unearthed her dearly guarded land.   At last,  she reaches him,   faint and leaning on a Mallorn tree,   his hands clutching a wound on the side of his stomach,   covered in crimson.   At once she hears him,   his voice an echo in her mind.  He is in pain,   disoriented in his dwelling;   he is of no threat to Galadriel or her kingdom.   In this,   she is prescient.   She moves to be beside him,   her ivory gown now heaped on the earth.   With her hand,   she tucks a stray black lock from his forehead to his ear.   She speaks gently.

  〝 You are far from where you have come.    I see no force of corruption in you.  You will rest in my kingdom. 〞

[scalpho]

god i did enjoy neverafter but it's so funny whenever people mention it solely for the purpose of saying things like "i can't believe neverafter was meant to be the horror season when this exists" "oh this is WAY scarier than neverafter" "neverafter has nothing on this". bringing it out just to slap it around the face

[sinclaws]

if clarity’s in death, then why won’t this die? @woefly,

the rose of her beret is clutched by sharpened claws as she lowers her figure to lean against the stone balcony. eyes trace from wednesday to the midnight sky, a sigh of neglect is traipsed through perfected glossy lips. doesn't she get it? it's something that comes naturally to enid, but clearly a trait has not been shared with her roommate. care, understanding, what were these things if not a gateway to enid's soul . . . she is the embodiment of all things good, and wednesday is what seems to be the opposite. where enid lacks in monotony, wednesday excels in her painfully deceptive self awareness. maybe opposites attract, or maybe opposites are simply stuffed awkwardly in the same box of a dorm room. regardless, enid finds a reason to object to wednesday's ideology, now matching the lack of energy in her voice. she secretly hopes the raven-haired connoisseur will ask her what's bugging her, if she gets around to spitting out what she's been thinking.

blonde curls slightly shift to the left in the wind, a piece of anger? sadness? boiling up to her mouth, frothing, as if she had never experienced an emotion before. ❛❛ lucky for me, your stupid case isn't dead yet. you're just ignoring all the signs that you've already figured out. and maybe you should think about seeing things how they are, not how they're supposed to be in your head. if clarity were in death, the world wouldn't function properly. it's like, science, wednesday. and like, i know it's been a few days since we've been friends but do you have to be so... deathly... with all your wording? eugh. sometimes it just gives me chills. ❜❜ eyes shut in an instant, feeling the eyes of her friend(?) on her. what were you thinking, loser? stupid, mumbling idiot. what the hell, enid. head turns almost robotically, eyes frantic, brows furrowed, wednesday's face striking out so elegantly in the night air. ❛❛ and, do you have gum? ❜❜

[mightyendx]

tranquility . . . not touched or even witnessed as years had passed, as crowns had rested and dust collected. the golden sways as the leather tunic steadily paces in the wind, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as a breeze shifts in from the north. keeping an eye on the dirt beneath his feet whilst simultaneously balancing his vision upright. a posture the king has come to learn naturally.

look, i see something over there. introducing, @faentine.

vision had now risen to fantine's gold locks which paired her with himself. her point to the left is a signal of attention which he has taken blindly, a strange sense of trust had grown between the two, he thinks. eyes sharpen into mere slits of green as he searches for the sight she sets upon, unable to track what she so faintly deems to be there. ❛❛ what are you pointing at? i . . . i can't see anything there . . . ❜❜

[some-pers0n]

Hey you ever think about The Characters so much to the point where

[boyplushie]

going to sleep & by sleep. heh. well. let's just say. phone in bed

[karnalesbian]

she commit acts of intercourse on my erogeneous zones until i achieve sexual climax

[poetryforall]

[unforth]

Actually I love voting for the lesser evil. It's less evil. I support that whole heartedly.

[sapphosdickandballs]

5 sexiest things a woman could wear

Full suit of armor

Just an oversized teeshirt

blood of her enemies

leather jacket

Super cool sword on her back

[creed-of-cats]

"If voting changed anything they wouldn't let people do it-" grabs your face THEY DIDN'T JUST "LET" PEOPLE DO IT, MOST PEOPLE COULDN'T VOTE FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS. PEOPLE OF COLOR ONLY GOT THE FULL RIGHT TO VOTE 50 YEARS AGO IN THE US, THATS BARELY A GENERATION.

IF IT DIDNT MATTER AT ALL WHY WOULD THEY SPEND SO MUCH TIME GERRYMANDERING THE SHIT OUT OF EVERYWHERE?? WHY CAN'T FELONS VOTE?? WHY CANT PUERTO RICO VOTE? WHY DO THEY KEEP SWITCHING DATES AND LAWS AND TIMES AND WHATEVER THEY POSSIBLY CAN TO STOP PEOPLE FROM VOTING?? WHY DO THEY MAKE EFFORT AT ALL??

BEING DISILLUSIONED IS A REASONABLE RESPONSE. BUT PEOPLE FOUGHT AND DIED AND ARE STILL FUCKING DYING FOR THAT RIGHT, DONT SPIT IN THEIR FACE.

[whatkindofnameisella]

can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.

[sinclaws]

@woefly said, i would appreciate it if we didn’t discuss personal matters right now.

pastel  nails  grip  onto  wednesday's  out  of  pure,    unsheathed  excitement,    a  smile  reaching  tinted  cheeks.    he,    the  brooding  loner,    finds  a  way  to  creep  into  most  of  their  conversations,    whether  he's  a  suspect  of  the  girl-detective's  murder  case  or  he's  a  boy-toy  her  new  bee-eff-eff  is  disregarding  for  some  cryptic,    Machiavelli,    hauntingly  Addams  reason.        ❛❛      you  definitely  like  him.    i  can  see  it,    you're  bonding  with  him.      ❜❜        &.    just  like  that,    her  eyerolls  cause  a  sensation  of  hyperfixation  that  the  raven-haired  had  clearly  been  trying  to  avoid.    her  emotions  are  simply  feigned      (if  she  ever  even  expressed  any),    and  so  it's  difficult  for  enid  to  even  tell  whether  or  not  wednesday  has  even  the  littlest  of  crushes  on  xavier.        ❛❛      you've  gotta  face  your  feelings  for  him  sometime,    wednesday.    express  them,    so  to  speak!    .  .  .    pleeeease?      just  for  me?      ❜❜

[obsesssedblerd]

You look up from your book to see your husband standing over the bassinet with his arms crossed, his brow raising as he looks down inside of it with a tiny scowl. He stays like that for about a minute. You sit up in your shared bed, then call out to him. “Ryo.” 

“Hm.” He doesn’t look up. 

“May I ask what you are doing?” 

“The little brat is staring,” Sukuna says matter-of-factly. “I am simply staring at her in return.” 

Inside of the bassinet, your baby daughter coos. Her scarlet eyes—exactly like her father’s—glitter with interest. You hear her giggle, and you scoff lightly and return your gaze to your book. “She thinks you’re playing a game.” 

“I am doing no such thing.” 

You flip a page. “Put a hand over your face for a few seconds.” He doesn’t respond, but you know he listens. “M’kay, now lift.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then your daughter bursts into a fit of giggles. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “I do not understand what is so entertaining about that.” When you look up again, you see that he’s covering his face again, then revealing himself to get the same reaction from the baby.

“It’s called peek-a-boo. It’s a game most babies love to play.” 

The little princess babbles as she lifts her arms up, and Sukuna tilts his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You snicker. “One: You’ll figure out what she’s saying the more you talk with her. Two: She wants you to pick her up.” 

He sighs dramatically, then reaches into the bassinet to pick up the small girl. Though she has her father’s eyes, she has your hair, the shape of your nose, and your ears. She also has your fearlessness, because she smiles directly in the face of the king of curses. Now at his eye level, she reaches her arms towards him excitedly. “What is it now, you brat? I’m already carrying you.” 

He looks over at you in question, and your smile grows. “She wants to touch your face,” you say. 

“Why?” 

“Because she’s a baby, and she’s curious.” 

Sukuna pulls her closer, and once in range, his daughter lays her tiny hands against his marked face. She giggles more, and you can see his eyes soften. “Hmph. You have your mother’s smile.” 

— — — —

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen where you hear Sukuna speaking with someone. When he turns to the side, you see your daughter nestled in the crook of one of his muscular arms, staring up at him as he concluded whatever story he was telling her. 

“...At the end of the battle, only I remained. Victory was mine.” 

The baby babbles excitedly, and Sukuna scoffs. “Ha, you will do no such thing. How do you expect to join me in battle when you aren’t even a year old, brat?” 

Her face scrunches in what looks like annoyance, and she repeats to him what he taught her the night before. “Hmph.” 

You burst into laughter, and Sukuna raises a brow at the little girl in his arms. “Great. Your mother’s smile, and her attitude.”

[michameinmicha]

Stumbled upon this random ship (in a fandom im not active in myself) that has like 150 works on ao3 which are all from just two people gifting each other fics about this pairing back and forth and theyve been doing it for 3 years... i think thats true love probably

[shawtyimmaparty]

Once we start loving ourselves, people no longer seem good to us unless they are actually good for us.