#So friendship S/I it is <3

[kakusu-shipping]

Another self insert based entirely one someone else's self insert. @lunayumes has such a habit of making the prettiest and loneliest self inserts, but unlike Your Turn to Die I've SEEN Dungeon Meshi and thus can make her at least a little less lonely.

Emile's a Gnome/Half-Foot hybrid who was raised by his parents far from most civilization. When his mother (half-foot) died of old age his father (gnome) took his own life, unable to live without his wife, leaving their son of indeterminate age completely abandoned on a farm in the middle of No Where.

Emile saved up the funds to leave his home and go traveling in hopes of learning more about his heritage and culture he was deprived of and eventually found himself on The Island. Naturally he gravitated to the local library to read everything they had on Gnome and Half-Foot culture and History. This is also where he meets Emi, who goes to the library mostly just to get out of her empty house when he husband, Chilchuck, is away.

Neither of them are very sociable people, but eventually Emile works up the courage to talk to this very pretty Half-Foot he sees regularly. Surprisingly, they have a lot in common and end up hitting it off.

Emile eventually convinces Emi to leave Chilchuck, partly because he's formed a crush on the woman, but mostly because she's his friend and he wants what's best for her, and this clearly wasn't it. He knows what it's like to be alone all the time. When Chilchuck eventually comes back to talk to Emi and the two make up, Emile remains pretty Anti-Chilchuck for a while afterwards, mostly just giving him dirty looks. Emi doesn't seem to notice.

That's about all I have. Again thanks to @lunayumes for letting me use her S/I as a base for mine!! Anything is subject to change at you're request!!

[triple-starsss]

for context this is set after they leave Ivo!!

[hanzajesthanza]

geralt "i will NEVER deadname my best friend" of rivia

"he will ALWAYS be dandelion to ME"

[tscs]

⮩ wonyoung in ive music videos, for my beloved shri @twiceland ♡

@lgbtqcreators creator bingo: colour [template]

[traumatas]

Spinning them around in my head at all times.

[apricote]

fun fact: he’s 6′11″ feet tall and bisexual.

[fistfuloflightning]

”Go get Mu-shishu now,” were Luo Binghe’s first words when she entered. It was clear he couldn’t go himself: he was practically wrapped around Ming Fan’s shaking figure, keeping his thrashing limbs pinned down. And everywhere there was so much blood.

“What happened?” she breathed, fishing out a communication talisman and imbuing it with qi, watching it crumble to ash. Mu Qingfang would—hopefully—get it and come to Qing Jing Peak with all haste. But now all they could was wait.

“Qi deviation,” Luo Binghe said shortly. “I found him like this, and I—I don’t know what to do.” His voice stuttered and for the first time he sounded unsure. Ning Yingying was suddenly terrified. How much blood could he lose?

Ming Fan shuddered and pressed his face into Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “Mu-shishu will be here,” Ning Yingying whispered, reaching out to stroke his tangled, bloodied hair. She ached to see him like this.

Luo Binghe’s head was bowed over him and she could see the way his arms tightened around Ming Fan. Everything had changed with Shizun’s death—and the three of them had been left spinning in circles, no longer sure of where they stood with the peak, with each other. Shizun had been what had bound them together—for good or bad—and now he was gone. So she could only imagine what was going through her shidi’s mind, holding someone he had hated and who had hated him in return, and trying to keep him from dying. They were navigating uncharted waters, uncertain of what waited for them.

“Mu-shishu will come.” It sounded less like reassurance and more like a prayer.

[aprilblossomgirl]

-- I don’t know how much further we have to travel before we find our space. We may have to pass difficult curves and crossroads we have to guess whether to go left or right, or how many times we’ll choose to turn back. 

First Kanaphan Puitrakul as Akk. Khaotung Thanawat Ratanakitpaisan as Ayan. Neo Trai Nimtawat as Kanlong. Louis Thanawin Teeraphosukarn as Thuaphu. AJ Chayapol Jutamas as Wasuwat. Pawin Kulkaranyawich as Namo. Ployphach Phatchatorn Thanawat as Sani. | Our Skyy 2 x The Eclipse (2023)

[byfulcrums]

Teenage superhero groups are so good. Not only because they're always really fucking relatable, but also because their relationships are so special. They're like:

“I met you, and I was weary of you at first. We've become closer and closer to the point we trust eachother with our lives, but still not with our identities — it's sad, but it's how it is.

You've cried to me about how your mentor didn't listen to you, about how they yelled at you and didn't seem to care enough. I've cried to you about how my life is so lonely, about how being a hero is taking away my life, about how I can't be a teenager anymore because I can't rest without feeling like someone will die because of me not being there.

We've fought together, and we've fought eachother. We've cried together, laughed together and yelled together. We've saved the world together. We were never meant to be apart.

The other day, you were brainwashed and turned evil. You were tortured, striped away of your own being. We tried to help you anyway, even if our mentors told us not to. We still spent hours shopping for a birthday gift you'd like a few months later.

We're slowly growing up, and we're leaving the safety of our mentors's cloaks. We're going through different paths; always down, always falling, but not as together as we were before.

Some of us have found our own proteges. I'd like to say I'm better with mine than my own mentor was with me, and I hope you are the same.

Our proteges have found eachother the same way we did. The happiness from seeing me in your face was everything I needed to be convinced to stay with you.

We've been getting the others to come back, too. We're also recruiting new people, new young heroes who will get themselves killed if they're not guided properly. We're not the same young kids anymore, but we're together once again, and that's all that matters.

We grew up very quickly. I can see it from the way we don't laugh as much anymore, from the way we're the one attempting to stop the younger ones from pulling pranks on us, from the way we train instead of being trained.

We're all adults now. There was a time where we lost ourselves, and we wouldn't find us anymore. A time where I went to our old lair and saw it empty, devoid of life. A time where I tried to call you and you didn't answer. A time where I saw you on TV, with a kid by your side, looking at you like you're their entire world.

We're adults now. We've lost ourselves many times. But we've found eachother again. And I think that's what matters. Because we're not only teammates anymore; we're family.”

Or something like that idk, I suck at writing

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

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Things I'm not over: their bow at the first show of the tour in Oxford ^

...and them all cheering when they nailed it a few days later in Manchester (x)

[queen-scribbles]

Healing Hurts

First LOTRO fic, only, what, five years after I started playing the game? Better late then never. \o/ ---

Halthiras first met Aelinril because of the rain, though it was a meeting she would not remember.

In the days of his youth, before the return of the Shadow, Halthiras was given to walking the woods and valleys surrounding Imladris, exploring the vales of the Trollshaws, learning their secrets, befriending the animals that inhabited them. Though he'd held to this habit unbothered by rain on many occasions before, this was no gentle mist or soft silver showers but a harsh outpouring, fiercely accompanied by thunder and lightning.

So rather than wander the woods, Halthiras wandered the halls of Imladris itself. Even being his home, there was much yet unexplored. He had no plan for these wanderings, simply allowing his feet to carry him where they would. And so his path wound its way through many peaceful hallways and turnings to Tham Send. The Hall of Rest was quiet, as befit its purpose.

Most of the beds stood empty, freshly made and ready for use should they be needed. And the ones occupied he could see, the Elves slept peacefully, resting from long labors or deep hurts. There was, however, a small bustle of hushed activity in a back corner of the hall, so Halthiras was naturally drawn in that direction, with steps deliberate rather than idle.

A cluster of healers stood around two beds, murmuring among themselves as they worked. It was another Elf nearby, differently clad and standing as if to guard the invalids, who noticed his curiosity.

She gave him a questioning look of her own, one brow arched in silent wonder of his purpose.

"Is everything alright?" he asked at the prompting in her eyes.

"As it can be," she replied, concerned gaze lingering once more on the Elves in the beds before she looked back at him. "The last and most gravely wounded from our battle at the end of the Age. We hold hope of healing their wounds ere they succumb, but the servants of the Enemy did them great harm. Hithgol" --she nodded to the male Elf, dark hair, and his face twisted in uneasy slumber--"was struck by what weapon we know not, but its effect on him is most grievous. And Aelinril"--a gesture to the female Elf, long brown hair and features only faintly troubled for the moment--"was pierced by a morgûl-blade, a foul weapon wielded by the chief of the Enemy's servants, meant to linger and wither those it wounds until they are mere shades bound to his will."

One of the healers, indeed, was tending a wound in Aelinril's shoulder, not yet closing though the battle was a century past.

"Why does it refuse to heal?" Halthiras found himself asking.

The guarding Elf shook her head. "They know not. Some foul magic of the Enemy. And so they work on, to delay the fading until a cure is found."

"Is the aught I can do?" He had not seen the great and terrible battle of the Last Alliance, but it made his heart sit heavy that some remained still suffering so.

She studied him. "Unless you are practised in the healing arts, I fear watching over them is the only aid to offer." A sad smile played at her lips. "If you wish to do so, I would welcome the company in my vigil."

"Then you have it," he said with a bow. "When I can lend it."

"Indeed? And might I know the name of my new companion?"

"Halthiras of Imladris," he said.

"Ah, this is your home," she said, smile tinged with melancholy. She placed a hand to her chest and bowed low in returned greeting. "Harthalín, previously of Gondolin and elsewhere, though now I suppose my vigil makes Imladris my home as well." She looked to the beds. The healers had withdrawn from Aelinril, but two lingered over Hithgol. "Aelinril is one of my dearest friends, and Hithgol a brave comrade in arms. I will remain here as long as I may, to watch over them until Lord Elrond comes to tend them."

"And... how do we help?" Halthiras asked as he and Harthalín seated themselves in the chairs by Aelinril's bed.

"Simply be here to keep vigil," she answered. "The healers have said there's a chance they can hear us though they slumber, so if you wish to tell tales or sing songs it might ease what dreams they have." Her brow furrowed. "It has not seemed to help Hithgol, but there are times it does appear to hold Aelinril from fading."

He nodded, studying Aelinril's face as she slept. She still looked peaceful, with only the faintest edge of disquiet. "Whatever I can do, though I fear the songs I know are of celebration, merriment, joy. Hopefully the result of this vigil will warrant them, but I'm unsure they would be fitting now."

"Calling to their minds the joys of the world seems a fine way of helping them cling to it," Harthalín said. "And it is the wont of those young and not touched overmuch by loss to focus on such things."

And so was a new habit begun, on a rain-soaked day, in the Hall of Rest in Imladris.

Halthiras would come when he could, even on days Harthalín was absent. Sometimes days in a row, sometimes with weeks in between, though that was rare, through the long years that followed as Master Elrond and the healers endeavored to pull the sleepers from the Shadow.

Harthalín knew all the tales he did, and told them better, so he spoke of the world now. Things he saw on his exploration of the woods, tales and news passed on from scouts who went further afield into the Trollshaws and Lone-Lands. When he was apprenticed to Master Talagan. When his sister was born. He learned the songs of peace Harthalín knew, and sang them.

Hithgol sank into a deeper slumber, where no voice seemed to reach him. Aelinril's dreams grew more troubles by turns, Master Elrond's skill stayed her from fading but did not yet draw her back, and the wound remained in her shoulder.

And still Halthiras came whenever he could. Once or twice, as she came of age, he convinced his sister to visit, but Hiraneth was too restive enjoy long days of peaceful vigil. He talked to Harthalín, heard her tales of resisting Morgoth, the glory and peace of Gondolin, the might and deeds of Turgon, Glorfindel, Gil-galad and others, alongside reminisces of quieter blissful days over centuries building her friendship with Aelinril.

Some days, when he kept vigil alone, he would braid Aelinril's hair if her dreams grew especially troubled. Like he did for Hiraneth, a simple plait meant to keep it from tangling. And he would sing the songs he learned from Harthalín as well as the ones he knew, and speak of his lessons with Master Talagan, his parent's decision to leave for the Havens. The things Hiraneth would tell him she had seen, grey eyes alight and gestures avid as she explained.

He wondered what color Aelinril's eyes were. But they remained closed, though her dreams eventually seemed to grow more peaceful under Master Elrond's ministrations.

And so it went through the centuries, as the world rolled on outside the valley. It was with mingled joyous anticipation and regret Halthiras told Harthalín--and by extension Aelinril--of his master's decision they would go study at Edhelion for a time. He was excited to travel further than the valleys of his home he knew so well, to see the world a little and study at an Elven refuge known for its history and beauty. But an absence of months or years would be an odd change; he would miss his time with them in Tham Send. Harthalín encouraged the former while understanding the latter.

"I have found myself in new homes a few times in my life," she said with a wistful smile, "it can take time to adjust. But you will not be gone forever, and I will send word of any changes. You have spoken often of how you love to study and explore, you should enjoy the opportunity to do both to the full." She gave his arm a bracing squeeze. "I shall keep my vigil and look forward to your return."

With her blessing and a final farewell, unheard as it likely was, to Aelinril and Hithgol, Halthiras departed for Edhelion alongside Master Talagan and a select company of others, including Hiraneth. Edhelion was wonderful; woods and libraries to explore in equal measure, a place of safety, beauty, and learning. And he did enjoy it. But a portion of of his thoughts remained on Imladris always; missing home, missing the vigil he'd kept in Tham Send. He only made it a year before writing to Harthalín to ask how things stood. Her reply was a few months coming, and what he expected. No change, Hithgol still slept so deeply nothing disturbed him, Aelinril was more prone to restless dreams alternating with peaceful slumber. Perhaps she would wake soon, perhaps not, even Master Elrond did not know. He had some thoughts of cures to try, she would write with updates. And she did, though they were sporadic and rarely altered in content. They both sleep still, but there are more things to try, and they have not faded. That was something, at least, that they lingered yet. It gave hope they would wake eventually, and the Elves could wait long for such a change.

And then came news, in the form of Master Elrond visiting Edhelion. Halthiras had been hoping for a letter from Harthalín, as it had been moths since the last. But though Master Elrond brought no letter, he bore the same glad tidings a missive would have contained.

Aelinril had awakened. Only briefly, before lapsing back into slumber. But it was now the sleep of true rest, untroubled by lingering Shadow. He had every hope for Hithgol as well, indeed, he had come to avail himself of Edhelion's libraries for ways to further ease their slumber, and record the cures that had been successful in treating morgûl-blade wounds, should such knowledge be needed.

"Centuries keeping vigil and keeping hope, and she wakes when I am absent," Halthiras commented to his sister, amused at the timing more than anything.

"Yes, but she woke," Hiraneth returned. "With every indication now that she shall do so again, with the other hopefully not far behind. Focus on that, rather than regret you were elsewhere at the time."

There was wisdom in her words, and he knew it, though she was the younger. "I am sure Harthalín is greatly relieved by this turn, the proving her vigil has not been in vain for her friend." He drew a deep breath, resting one hand on the carven rail as he looked out to forest. "As for myself, I shall enjoy the time here, and hope for more such turns after we are home in Imladris once more."

It was a return marked rather more by sorrow and loss than anticipated. Only a few short weeks after Master Elrond's arrival came an assault by the Dourhand dwarves. By the time they were driven back and their leader killed, the attack had cost much--Edhelion lay in ruins, its libraries destroyed and a great many lives lost in its defense, including Master Talagan.

Harthalín did not press for details when he rejoined her in Tham Send, did not ask him to speak of his mentor, and Halthiras was grateful. There was an understanding in her eyes, a familiarity with grief too near and new, and she let him hold his silence. Which he did, on the days he joined her. But despite the shift in Aelinril's condition and the hope it heralded, he found the forests called to him more than before. The rustle of wind through leaves was a balm to his grief, and he spent much time walking the woods or sitting under trees to heal his heart. It took centuries for the pain to ease, but it did ease. And as it did he found himself in Tham Send more and more again, the peace of the Hall equal to the peace of the woods once more. First in silent vigil, but on an occasion Harthalín was absent he spoke of the loss to Aelinril. Unsure whether she could even hear or not--he almost hoped not--but needing to speak of it to someone, and Hiraneth's anger had driven her to remain in the woods around Edhelion, a watchful guardian of its repose, but also absent from her home. No change came to the sleeping face and he was glad not to disturb her dreams, but speaking of it aloud began the mending.

He began to speak of tales and happenings once more, sing songs both wistful and joyous. Halthiras maintained the renewed vigil through the whispered rumor of returning Shadow, through Dwarves traversing Imladris valley, through Harthalín departing once the Shadow was no longer rumor, foreswearing the Havens until the Enemy she had helped lay low was defeated for good.

"Tell her for me, when she wakes," she asked, and he promised to do so.

But then came word of Dwarves, Dourhands, settling Thorin's Gate, near the ruins of Edhelion. As Master Elrond had recently been given a worrisome dream, he purposed to send his sons and a party of Elves to investigate. He asked Halthiras to be among them, given his close ties to the loss of Edhelion, and in truth, Halthiras would have volunteered if not asked. The next few weeks were full of preparation, wondering if Hiraneth had been the one to send word, and regretting his departure would perhaps mean Aelinril being alone when she woke. He bid her farewell the day before departing so as not to rush, torn between hoping for her to wake soon and hoping for it to be after his return. He tied back her hair once more as she shifted with her dreams.

It was raining as they prepared to leave the next day, a gentle mist the party was protected from by hoods and cloaks. Elladan and Elrohir emerged from their final council with their father, trailed by another hooded figure.

"We go at my father's behest to investigate the Dwarven presence near Edhelion," Elladan addressed those assembled, "but we shall have another companion for part of the journey." He moved to lead the company as he spoke, and Elrohir guided their late addition to join them. "She has been recovering in Tham Send from a most grievous injury and Lord Elrond has given leave for her to depart to the Grey Havens, should she wish to. As our paths align for a time, we shall travel together until Celondim."

Something strange pierced Halthiras' heart at the words. Hope and shock and regret mingled as one. If that meant who he thought...

The figure fell in near him as the Elves began their journey, and one look was all that was necessary. It was her, her hair still tied back as he'd done it. She had awakened at long last and he hadn't been there as he'd promised Harthalín, and now she would be leaving Middle Earth, forever. He wanted to greet her, be courteous, but didn't know how to start.

He caught the knowing look in Elrohir's eye before the son of Elrond spoke. "Aelinril, this is Halthiras, one of my father's household, and a friend I believe would serve well as traveling companion."

She looked at him, then, and her eyes were blue, tinged green, bright and radiant though haunted by long memory. "Halthiras."

He bowed in greeting. "Aelinril."

And so they met for the second time in the rain, and however long or brief the acquaintance would prove to be, it was one she would remember.

[wearily-confused]

i wish it was acceptable to ask to dtr friendships

like are we treating this as bfs or acquaintances or talks casually every other month or every day gm and gn or what

like please tell me what amount of energy and care you are willing to reciprocate without pingponging between loving me and not even giving a fuck if i die, just stop with all this hot and cold bs

[arcanaaa]

@scarletbellatrix asked: ♡

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours | Accepting!

●●●●○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

[allwehearisradiosilence]

Don’t do this to me kit I will cry.

[thetrolltolls]

JUST ORDERED MORE BEADS 🤩 i am still accepting any bracelet suggestions!!

[cdyssey]

I started Yellowjackets, and I’m so effing obsessed with these women!! What is teenage girldom except a brutal wilderness where you have to hunt and kill to survive?? What is adulthood but dealing with all of those thousands of broken pieces??