#dear future great grandchildren

[soapdispensersalesman]

2014 vs 2024

[writtingforfun]

Daemon Targaryen x reader

She’s Leana’s sister and married to daemon. On Leana’s funeral daemon and Rhaenys manage to convince Corlys to declare daemon son next lord of the tides. Later Rhaenyra try to talk to daemon about the issue saying her son should be lord of the tides. Daemon and reader just say to her that bastards won’t have the driftwood seat.

Hey, I hope you enjoy this and that it fits your request.

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

He should be your heir

The three Velaryon siblings had always been close. They were both fire and sea; they burned as hot as dragon fire and were restless as the sea during a storm. They grew between both elements, they were taught the Valyrian ways, they claimed dragons and they felt at ease at the shores.

The first to wed had been the middle child, a girl of beautiful dark skin and silver curls. She had a tinge of purple circling her irises. After the sudden demise of Lady Rhea, she quickly connected with Prince Daemon, the most fascinating man she had ever met. The girl had been swooned by him from a very young age. Corlys had loudly celebrated this union, happy to unite the Velaryons to the Targaryens once again.

The second to wed had been Laenor. While both parents were happy with the chance to have their son be the future Queen's consort, worry had filled their family. They all knew of Laenor's taste, and his sisters supported him with all their hearts. Regardless of agreements between the heir and him, he'd still have to bed her and have new heirs. It's a pity it didn't work.

Laena was the last one to marry.

The two Velaryon girls were happy and in love with their husbands, as for Laenor... He was happy with his side piece.

Prince Daemon and his wife were expecting their first child just two moons after they were wed. A boy was born and they named him Aelor. Aelor was his father's twin in everything but the color of his skin, a true-born Targaryen and Velaryon.

In their 10 years together, they had been blessed with four children.

Aelor with 10 namedays, Maela and Gaellor, twins of 8 namedays and Taemon with just 4 namedays. And a soon-to-be brother or sister was in their mothers heavy belly, halfway of her term.

It had been excrutiating for her to hear the news of her dear sister's death on the birthing bed, she had collapsed on the floor with tears and loud screams of the pain of losing her.

They had lived at Driftmark for their entire marriage, only leaving to take their children on adventures across the skies. They had the perfect life; it was filled with laughter and joy as well as the warmth of their family. With Laenor living at the Red Keep and Laena at Pentos, it had been up to her to bring joy to her parents. Corlys and Rhaenys dotted on all of their grandchildren, but mostly on the ones brought by their youngest girl. They had brought sunlight to their lives after beeing separated from their other two children.

She made it her mission to greet everyone to ease the weight on her parent's shoulder, forgetting that she herself had a noticable weight to carry in safety. Daemon, always the caring and loving husband he was, never left her side or their children's side.

Not even when Rhaenyra had arrived as if she owned the place. "It will belong to my husband and my son after him", she had replied smugly when reprehended about her manners.

She was nervous and saddened, Laena had been a great friend to her. But to rub in her parent's face her light skinned children... it was too much.

Later that night she and Daemon had talked about how it should be their son, their Aelor, to sit on the throne of Driftmark, for he was the closest male heir after Laenor.

Rhaenys and Corlys laid in bed with saddness between them. They'd never see their Laena. At least they had the joy of their grandchildren. Aelor and Maella had made it their mission to cheer them up, to lift their spirits even if just a tad.

"Come in," Rhaenys said as someone knocked on their chamber's door.

"Mother, father. I hope we are not disturbing terribly"

"No, of course," Corlys hurried her and Daemon inside. She was always his favorite, his precious girl, the girl that always begged him to tell stories from when he was sailling across the continents.

"We need to talk"

"About?"

Daemon took the lead and explained their concerns "you know I'm right. It's Aelor's birthright. Everything in Rhaenyra's life is because she was the firstborn of my brother. With Laena gone and no children behind, it should be my wife and then our son who becomes Lord of the Tides."

Corlys exhaled frustrated, "History remembers names, not blood, Daemon"

"Everything is about blood, father. Everything. Fire runs through my veins. As does the sea. Where does Lucerys have that? Why should he sail as if he owned the place?"

"Because-"

Rhaenys cuts him before he can defend his thoughts "They are right, husband. Our trueborn grandchildren are left with nothing when her bastards inherit the throne as well as this seat. I love those boys, and Jace is in fact Rhaenyra's heir. But not Laenor's."

"To change it would be a blow to the Targaryens."

"Except he is a Targaryen." Daemon defends.

"Exactly. He does not bear the Velaryon name. Lucerys does."

"Name him your heir," Daemon says as he takes his wife's hand. "Name him and he will take my wife's name. Your name"

Rhaenys had been adamant on making sure her husband would choose correctly, and finally he did. Finally he saw it. Aelor Targaryen would come as Lord of the Tides after Corlys. Aelor Velaryon, of house Targaryen and Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, rider of Aemax.

The first Lord of the Tides to fly on top of a dragon and to sail on ship. To say that his parents were proud of him was to say the least.

But of course that Rhaenyra was not happy. While Laenor seemed content to be freed from having to step into his father's footsteps, she was mad.

"He is Laenor's son, he should be Lord of the Tides, not Aelor. Uncle," she pleaded "its not fair"

"Lucerys is anything but Laenor's son. They are bastards, and bastards don't take the Driftwood seat"

[mononijikayu]

“dear theodosia” — gojo satoru.

"I'll be here," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't let you become a story. I'll fight with everything I have to be here, to see you grow, to love you." “Satoru, you’ll live a long and happy life with us, with me,” you said, looking at him tenderly. Worry echoed in your eyes, though. “You and I, we will grow old together. And die on the same day with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren around us.”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, family, comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, mention of pregnancy, mention of breastfeeding, mention of postpartum effects, depiction of the aftermath of birth, depiction of parenthood, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 4.6k words

LISTEN: dear theodosia by lin manuel miranda and leslie odom jr.

NOTE: prepared to be sick of me because this entire time, you'll only be getting musical themed song inspired stuff because the songs have gotten back to me and kicked me into the nostalgia of musicals. anyway, this was so cute to me. i love dad-satoru so much. i hope i can write more of him. enjoy this a lot guys, i love you~ <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

spoilers about shinjuku showdown

GOJO SATORU THINKS HE WAS NEVER BUILT FOR DOMESTIC LIFE. When he was younger, he thought he would live a life of solitary proportions. Sure, the elders would have pushed him to marry one way or another and force him to start a family. But he knew his heart wouldn’t have been in it. He knew that nothing in him would be genuine. And he didn’t want that. If he was being honest, his greatest fear was the lonesomeness that comes with his birth. His power had promised him the world. He knew from the moment he could think that he would not be a man among humanity — no, he would be a god. But it was quite clear that being on top is lonely, being a god is lonely, and he hated it.

He never thought that both of you would end up being together. Let alone that he would willingly settle down with anyone. You never truly seemed to be someone that loved that idea — you were still reeling from heartbreak. And him? He was left behind by the person he thought was his shadow, shattered with nothing. It wasn’t ideal, but he thought that you understood. He thought that you both had enough broken pieces between the two of you to be whole again. That if misery was an enemy, then the two of you would win. He was willing to bet on that.

And so, he took the gamble. He opened up, letting you see the cracks and scars that he had hidden for so long. He exposed his vulnerabilities, hoping you would do the same. It was a tentative beginning, filled with uncertainty and hesitation, but gradually, you both found solace in each other’s presence. 

The nights were the hardest, haunted by the ghosts of past loves and lost dreams. Yet, somehow, those shared moments of silence, the comfort of a warm hand, and the whispered confessions in the dark, made the loneliness bearable. You both learned to navigate the labyrinth of each other’s fears and insecurities, finding strength in the shared understanding that neither of you was alone anymore.

He was surprised by how naturally the pieces fell into place. Your laughter became a balm for his weary soul, and your touch grounded him in a way he never thought possible. Slowly, he started to see a future he had never dared to dream of – a future where he wasn’t isolated at the pinnacle of power, but rather, standing beside you, sharing the burdens and the joys.

He realized that the life he once dreaded, a life intertwined with another’s, was not a cage, but a liberation. The family he had feared would be forced upon him became a chosen haven of love and understanding. The heart he thought was too shattered to feel again began to beat with a new, hopeful rhythm.

In you, he found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, someone who had been forged in the same fires of pain and loss. Together, you built something beautiful from the ruins, proving that even gods could find grace in the embrace of another’s love. And in that love, he discovered that being on top didn’t have to mean being alone. Instead, it meant having someone to share the view, someone to hold his hand as they looked down at the world together.

Gojo Satoru looked at you now, watching your sleeping form. It had only been a few days since he was released from the prison realm. Throughout that time, he couldn’t help but think about you. Thinking about how you were waiting for him. How your son was going to be waiting for his father to come home. Megumi, Tsumiki, his beloved students. They were all waiting for him. But when he saw you, he didn’t know what came over him. He rushed to you, and your arms opened wide. Just for him.

Time didn’t pass in the prison realm — but for you it did. He could see it. How tired you were. How all of this grief and pain, and suffering had cost you dearly. Your tears felt hot against his shoulders, your cries of relief bellowing through his entire body. He could feel it all; he could never forget it. Even now, he couldn’t. In all of your marriage, he had cost you dearly. You had sacrificed a lot of your life trying to help him achieve his dream for the Jujutsu world. You stood by him no matter what. You made a home for him anywhere and everywhere. You gave him everything.

As he watched you sleep, he marveled at your resilience. The lines on your face told stories of battles fought and won, of nights spent waiting and worrying, of unwavering love and dedication. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light, as if afraid to wake you from your well-deserved rest. 

In that quiet moment, he made a silent vow. He promised himself that he would make up for all the time lost, for all the pain and sacrifices you endured. He would be the husband and father you deserved, the man who stood beside you as an equal, not just a protector. The burden of his power and his duties had always weighed heavily on him, but he realized now that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

You stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and his heart swelled with an overwhelming love and gratitude. The world outside was filled with uncertainties and dangers, but here, in this moment, everything felt right. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, a promise of better days to come.

“I’m home,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to hope. Hope for a future where the weight of his responsibilities didn’t overshadow the simple joys of life. A future where he could see his son grow up, where he could laugh with his family, where he could find solace in your embrace every night. And with that hope, he drifted into a peaceful sleep beside you, ready to face whatever came next with you by his side.

He couldn’t believe it. How content you had made him — how happy you had made him. And now, he thought you had made him even happier. Even with all that had come to pass, he didn’t think it was a bad thing. He could feel it when he looked at you with his Six Eyes. You probably hadn’t been able to find yourself, being so busy holding everything together in his absence. Yet he could feel it. He could feel the life you had created bubbling in your belly. He could feel it echo with the essence of him and you.

A smile crept onto his face as he gently placed his hand on your stomach, feeling the faint flutter of new life beneath his fingertips. It was as if the universe had given him a second chance, a chance to be there for you and the new life you were bringing into the world. This tiny, growing miracle was a testament to your strength and resilience, a symbol of hope and renewal.

He marveled at the thought of another child, another chance to build a family filled with love and warmth. The future, which had once seemed so bleak and uncertain, now held promise and joy. He thought of your son, soon to be a big brother, and how they would grow up together, surrounded by the love and support of their parents and siblings.

Satoru's heart swelled with gratitude and love as he kissed your belly softly, whispering words of promise to the life growing within you. "I'm here, little baby." he murmured, his voice tender and filled with conviction. "I'll always be here for you, for all of us."

Satoru then held your belly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You stirred slightly, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as you murmured groggily, "That tickles."

He chuckled softly, his laughter like a soothing balm. "Sorry," he whispered, not really meaning it but enjoying the sound of your sleepy voice.

You sighed contentedly, your eyes half-opening to meet him. "Do you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. "That you’re pregnant again? I can see the baby growing."

You laughed softly, the sound filling the quiet room. "You didn't see Satoshi last time, you know." you teased.

Satoru pouted playfully, his expression a mix of mock offense and genuine amusement. Even with just the moonlight, his childishness can be seen so clearly too. "Satoshi was already too strong as a baby," he defended himself. "He concealed his presence from his papa."

You giggled, reaching up to touch his cheek. "He is his father's son, after all."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes softening with love. "I guess he is," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "But this time, I won't miss a thing. I'll be here, every step of the way."

You smiled, feeling a wave of warmth and gratitude wash over you. "I know you will, Satoru." you said softly, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. “You’ve never failed at that before.”

Satoru's hand remained on your belly, his tone blossoming with so much love. "I can't wait to meet our new little one." he whispered, his voice filled with awe and anticipation. “I’ve always wanted to have a big family.”

“I know.” You whispered to him, taking his other hand and holding it close with your own. “You’ve talked about it before.”

“But it was just hard…..with everything.” He hums, laying his back against the bed frame. “Now it’s going to be even harder — everyone knows about Satoshi now. And now….”

You shake your head at him. “We will be fine. As we always have been. It will be okay, Satoru. You will save Megumi, the kids. You will do us proud. And we’ll finally get our happily ever after.”

Silence engulfed Satoru for a moment. He kept thinking about his own father. His father had died when he was too young, so he didn’t remember anything about him. But he heard stories. He was a rough man to all, but his mother remembered him differently. And so she had a different story to tell.

Gojo Satoru didn’t want to voice it out loud, but he was worried. He worried that, just like his father, he would be a story to his child. That he would be nothing but a forgotten memory. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be someone who loved his child. He wanted his child to know him as Satoshi did. But he didn’t know what would happen now. He still had to face Sukuna and Kenjaku. And it wasn't that he lacked confidence, but he worried still. He worried, and it hurt him. He felt his heart be heavy about this, more than ever.

As he stared at your loving face, the weight of his fears pressed down on him. The thought of leaving you and his children behind, of becoming just another story, filled him with a deep, aching sorrow. He wanted to be more than a legend or a distant memory; he wanted to be a father, a husband, a man who was present and involved in the lives of those he loved.

His hand tightened slightly on your belly, as if trying to anchor himself to the present moment, to the promise of the future growing inside you. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach, closing his eyes as he whispered a silent vow to himself and to his unborn child.

"I'll be here," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't let you become a story. I'll fight with everything I have to be here, to see you grow, to love you."

“Satoru, you’ll live a long and happy life with us, with me,” you said, looking at him tenderly. Worry echoed in your eyes, though. “You and I, we will grow old together. And die on the same day with our grandchildren and great-grandchildren around us.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the determination and love there, and felt a warmth spread through his chest. Your unwavering belief in their future together eased some of his fears, but the worry in your eyes mirrored his own. He didn’t want you to worry, he doesn’t like it. Not especially in your condition. But he thinks that you can’t help it. You love him. And loving him will always have its worst. Love after all is a curse among men.

"I want that," he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. "I want to grow old with you, to see our children grow up, to be surrounded by family. I want to be there for all of it."

He lifted his head, meeting your concerned gaze. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with unspoken fears. "I just... I want to be here. For you, for Satoshi, for our new baby. I don’t want to be just a memory."

You cupped his face, your eyes searching for him. "You won't be." you assured him, your voice filled with unwavering confidence. "We'll face whatever comes together. You're not alone in all of this, my love.”

Satoru nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to push past the lump in his throat. Your words, your presence, gave him strength. He knew the battles ahead would be daunting, but he also knew he had something worth fighting for, something worth living for. You, Satoshi, this babe, Megumi, his beloved students, his adored friends — you were worth living for. You were worth returning from hell from.

"I love you, darling." he whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. "And I promise, I'll do everything I can to stay with you. To be the father our children deserve."

Your fingers caressed his cheek, your smile a beacon of hope and reassurance. "And we love He smiled, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I know. I love you too.”

You grinned at him and leaned toward him, your lips pressing against his. "And I can't wait to see you as a papa again," you replied, your voice filled with equal parts excitement and tenderness. “You’ll be so beloved by this babe, Satoru. And I know you’ll love our child so much too.”

“I already love them,” he whispered, his smile the epitome of joy itself. “I can imagine it already. They’re moving so powerfully in your belly. I’m pretty sure they’re going to blow us all away.”

You laughed, the sound bright and full of hope. “Can you imagine, Yaga teaching this kid the way Gakuganji has taught me?”

Satoru chuckled, the thought filling him with a mix of amusement and anticipation. "Oh, that would be something to see. Another little powerhouse in the making. But you know, with our combined stubbornness and spirit, I think we’re going to have our hands full.”

"Definitely," you agreed, your eyes sparkling with joy. "But we'll manage. We always do."

He nodded, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. "Yeah, we will. Together."

"You will be," you replied firmly, your hand covering his. "We'll make it through this, Satoru. Together. We'll have the future we've always dreamed of."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, drawing strength from your presence. "Thank you," he whispered. "For believing in me, in us. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," you promised, your voice soft but resolute. "Because we're in this together, always. For better or for worse.”

Before Satoru could respond, the door to your bedroom creaked open, the sound slicing through the quiet of the night. A small figure shuffled inside, barely visible in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It was young Gojo Satoshi, his small form barely reaching the edge of the bed. He looked distressed, your little boy. Satoru’s eyes softened at the sight of your darling boy.

Clutching his favorite stuffed animal tightly to his chest, he paused at the foot of the bed, uncertainty etched on his face. You and Satoru turned towards him simultaneously, your hearts melting at the sight of your son standing there, his eyes wide and teary. His pajamas were rumpled, his hair tousled from sleep, and it was evident that something had unsettled him deeply.

"Mama, Papa," Satoshi whispered, his voice barely audible above the soft hum of the room. He took a hesitant step closer, seeking comfort in the warmth of his parents' presence.

Satoru's heart clenched with concern as he reached out a comforting hand towards Satoshi. "Come here, Satoshi." he said gently, his voice a soothing murmur. "What's wrong, my little dawn?"

Satoshi hesitated for a moment, his lower lip trembling as he struggled to find the words to articulate his fear. "I... I had a nightmare," he finally managed to say, his voice wavering with emotion. "There was a big monster... and I couldn't find you and Papa."

You exchanged a knowing glance with Satoru, silently communicating your shared concern for your son's well-being. Without a second thought, Gojo Satoru lifted the covers, creating a welcoming space between the two of you. "It's okay, dearest dawn." he reassured, his voice soft but firm. "You're safe now. Come, lie down with us."

Satoshi blinked back tears, relief flooding his features as he scrambled onto the bed. He nestled himself between you and Satoru, his small body seeking solace in the warmth and familiarity of his parents. Satoru wrapped an arm protectively around him, pulling him close, while you gently smoothed his hair, offering some tender comfort that could never be echoed in words.

"What was the monster like, Satoshi?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle lullaby in the quiet of the room.

Satoshi took a deep breath, his eyes still wide with lingering fear. "It was... big and scary," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I... I wasn’t strong enough, mama. It was too much!”

Satoru's heart twisted with empathy as he listened to his son's words. He tightened his hold around Satoshi, his voice filled with reassurance. "Monsters aren't real, my dearest boy." he said firmly, brushing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "But even if they were, I would never let anything harm you. Papa will always protect you."

Satoshi looked up at Satoru, his eyes searching his father's face for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nodded slowly, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Really, Papa?"

"Really," Satoru affirmed, his voice steady and unwavering. "You're safe with us, always."

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to Satoshi's cheek. "We love you so much, sweetheart," you murmured, your voice filled with tenderness. "You're our brave little boy."

Satoshi's shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away as he nestled deeper into the embrace of his parents. "I love you too, Mama and Papa," he whispered, his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.

"We love you more than anything." Satoru and you said in unison, their voices a gentle promise of unconditional love.

As your son Satoshi drifted off to sleep, his breathing slowing into the steady rhythm of peace, you and Satoru exchanged a soft smile. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your family, you knew that together, you could weather any storm. And as the night wrapped it's comforting arms around you, you held onto each other, cherishing the precious bond that bound your hearts together.

Gojo Satoru was happiest here, he knew.

Whatever gods there are, he thanks them now.

For you and his children, will be his dearest treasures.

epilogue

In the days that followed Gojo Satoshi’s night of nightmares, life settled into a gentle rhythm once more. The worry that had momentarily clouded Satoru’s heart lifted as he watched his son regain his usual spark, chasing after Tsumiki's cat or eagerly helping with simple tasks around the house.

One evening, with the leaves dancing in the breeze outside, you and Satoru decided it was time to share some exciting news with Satoshi. The three of you gathered in the cozy living room, nestled together on the couch as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

“Satoshi,” you began, your voice warm with anticipation. “Your papa and I have something special to tell you.”

Satoshi looked up from his coloring book, his curiosity piqued. “What is it, Mama?”

Satoru took a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he exchanged a meaningful glance with you. “You’re going to be an elder brother, my dearest dawn!” he announced, his voice tinged with joy.

Satoshi blinked, processing the words for a moment before his face lit up in realization. “Wait... really?” he exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement.

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness as you watched your son’s reaction. “Yes, really, little one.” you confirmed, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

Satoru thinks that your son will always be the morning sun.His name is just perfect. He was truly the dawn that made your lives ever so beautiful. It’s the way his smile will make him undone, it will always make him feel like the world is bigger than it actually was. When Satoshi was born, all he could think about was that he filled what was empty in Gojo Satoru’s life. And that will never change. Not even if there is a new little one coming along.

Satoru worried about telling Satoshi, because in these past four, five years — he was the only son. He had gotten doted upon as a little lordling, the only dawn in his parent’s lives. But Satoru feels glad that your son was happy. That Satoshi already loves his little sibling as much as Satoru loves this little baby in your belly already.

Satoshi’s eyes darted between you and Satoru, a thousand questions bubbling up within him. “When will the baby come?” he asked eagerly. “Will the baby be able to play with me?”

“In a few months, little dawn.” Satoru replied, his voice filled with tenderness. “But you’ll have to wait until the baby’s a bit older and stronger to play with them, hm?”

“It’s okay!” Satoshi beams tenderly. “I can wait. I’ll take care of the baby and make sure that they’ll grow up strong!”

 “You’ll be the best big brother, Satoshi. We know it.” You smiled at your son, kissing the edge of his brow. “You’re already so kind to them.”

Satoshi beamed with pride, a sense of responsibility settling over him as he realized the importance of his new role. You think that you were truly blessed — to have such an endearing little boy who wants to do nothing but good. Who wants to love as much as he can. Who wants to be as kind as he could. You could see all the good, the wonder, the beauty of your husband in your little boy. And you hope that he will grow up to be just like his father. 

“I can’t wait!” he declared, his excitement contagious. “I can’t wait to be a big brother!”

You and Satoru exchanged a glance, delighted by Satoshi's enthusiasm. The room seemed to glow with warmth and anticipation, the air buzzing with the promise of new beginnings. As Satoshi's excitement bubbled over, he jumped up from the couch and threw his arms around both of you in a tight hug, his little face radiant with joy. 

“I’ll be the best big brother out there, mama, papa! I swear!”

"You will, my little dawn," you said, squeezing him gently. "And you're going to be amazing at it."

Satoru chuckled warmly, ruffling Satoshi's hair affectionately. "What mama said is correct! You're going to be the best big brother this baby could ask for."

Satoshi grinned from ear to ear, his imagination already racing with thoughts of teaching his new sibling all the things he loved. "I'll teach them how to play jujutsu and how to be brave like Papa! I’m going to be as good as Megumi–oniichan!”

The mention of Megumi was a bit gut-wrenching. Satoru’s eyes dimmed a little, a flicker of sadness passing through them, but he continued to smile, his expression gentle yet tinged with longing. You noticed the shift in his demeanor and pursed your lips, feeling a pang of empathy for the ache he carried.

You could only hope that you and Satoru would be good enough. Good enough to create a home where Megumi would feel welcomed back, where he could find solace and warmth after all he had been through. You hoped that soon enough, Megumi would be by your side again, sharing in the joys and challenges of raising this new baby alongside you both.

Satoru glanced at you, sensing your thoughts, and reached out to gently squeeze your hand, offering silent reassurance and solidarity. He shared your hopes, your dreams of a future where their family would be whole once more. You take his hand and kiss the edge of his hand.

"I want Megumi to be a part of this too," Satoru murmured softly, his voice filled with determination. "I want him to see how much love we have to give, to watch this baby grow as he watched Satoshi grow."

You nodded, feeling a surge of determination and love for the family you were building together. "We'll make it happen," you replied firmly, your voice tinged with quiet resolve. "We'll create a home where Megumi knows he's always welcomed, always loved."

That night was filled with the tender innocence of childhood dreams and the quiet anticipation of parenthood. After tucking Satoshi into bed, his eyes bright with excitement for the sibling yet to come, you and Satoru stood together in the doorway of his room, soaking in the purity of his joy-filled imagination.

Satoshi had whispered animatedly about the adventures he envisioned sharing with the new baby—games in the backyard, secret hideouts in the attic, and bedtime stories where he would be the storyteller, just like Papa. His enthusiasm was infectious, filling the air with a palpable sense of hope and new beginnings.

You and Satoru listened with hearts full of love, cherishing these fleeting moments that held the promise of a growing family. As Satoshi's voice eventually faded into soft snores, you closed his door gently, the sound resonating with the quiet serenity of the night.

Satoru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the hallway light. With a tender smile, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. The warmth of his embrace was reassuring, a silent affirmation of the love and unity you shared.

"I can't wait to see where happiness begins." he murmured, his voice a gentle murmur against your hair. His words held a mix of excitement and wonder, as if he was already imagining the new dynamics their family would soon embrace.

"Me too." you whispered back, leaning into his embrace. The softness of his touch, the steady beat of his heart against yours, filled you with a profound sense of gratitude and anticipation for the future.

In that moment, standing in the quiet hallway bathed in moonlight, you knew that together, you and Satoru look at each other. There was no need for anymore words. You just needed each other. You just needed this moment.

You smiled at him, and he smiles back. Just a little bit more, everything will be over. You will finally live in peace. You’ll be happy. You’ll grow old together. You believe it so. And you wish that it would be enough.

[aylen-san]

Miriel: (gently cradling little Feanor) Finwë, I've been thinking for a long time... I will not go to Lorien. I will stay with you. Our son needs more than love. He needs a guiding hand, or his fire could burn everything around him.

Finwë: (surprised, but warmly) Miriel, this is a big decision... I'm glad you chose us. But are you sure? I can see that strength has not come easy to you since his birth.

Mirielle: Yes, he has taken a lot from me, but I feel it is my destiny to be close to him. He is extraordinary, Finwë. His thirst for knowledge and power is great, but without proper guidance it could ruin him.

Finwë: (smiling, stroking Pheanor's head) Our Feanor... He has so much fire in him. I can see that. But you, Miriel, can teach him the humility that will keep that fire under control. He needs a mother's support and love.

Mirielle: (with a smile) He will be great if he learns not only to take, but also to give. I will help him find a balance between his passion and his ability to wait for the right moment. But for now, that he is just a child, and let him not worry about such things for now.

Finwë: (thoughtfully) If he learns this, maybe we will avoid a lot of trouble. He has the future of the Noldor in his hands....

---

Years pass. Feanor, now an adult, has a conversation with his parents.

Feanor: (with a twinkle in his eye) Look at this, mother, father! These are my Silmarilli! Stones that shine like the stars themselves. They are the crown of my labors!

Miriel: (admiringly, but with warning in her voice) It is a marvel, Feanor. None of us have ever seen anything like it. But remember, such things attract not only admiration, but envy. Beware of things that might cause discord.

Finwë: (nodding approvingly) Feanor, you have surpassed yourself. But with such power comes responsibility. Let these stones be a symbol of our strength and wisdom, not a cause of strife.

Feanor: (seriously but firmly) I understand, Father. The Silmarilli will remain under our protection. They will be a symbol of what we can accomplish if we stick together.

Mirielle: (smiling proudly) If so, I am at peace. You are not only a great master, but a wise Eldar. May your future be as bright as your creations. I am so proud of you!

---

At the edge of the golden field, among the flowers swaying gently in the wind, under shady trees sheltered by the sun's glare, sat Mirielle. Beside her on a soft blanket were her grandchildren, chatting and playing merrily. There was silence all around, broken only by laughter and the rustling of leaves. Feanaro's sons, still children, surrounded their grandmother, listening to her stories.

Miriel: (with a smile) Well, my little elves, would you like to hear the story of how I first saw the silver trees of Valinor?

Caranthir: (interrupting): Grandmother, tell me better about how you taught your father how to craft!"

Miriel: (with an affectionate look) Oh, Caranthir, you are always so impatient. Alright then, but first the story of the silver trees."

She begins to tell, and her voice takes the children into a world of memories. The boys' eyes light up as they visualize the silver light of Telperion.

Curufin: (stroking the thread on her dress): Grandmother, is it true that father did not immediately become such a skilled craftsman?

Mirielle: (with a smile) Of course, my dear. No master becomes great in a day. Feanaro was full of determination and perseverance. He often worked all night long while others slept.

Maedhros: (looking off into the distance) And you, grandmother, you used to weave these threads... How did you decide to leave that occupation?"

Mirielle thinks for a moment, but then smiles gently at her firstborn son.

Mirielle: Sometimes, dear one, one must step back to allow others the opportunity to grow. Your father accepted a legacy of skill from me, and I knew he would lead it forward.

Maglor: (quietly) Do you not regret not creating more?

Miriel runs her hand through his soft hair.

Mirielle: No, beloved. I find joy in seeing your creations blossom. And each one of them is a part of me.

The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, coloring the sky with warm golden tones. The children huddled closer to Mirielle, and she hugged them all, feeling the warmth of their small bodies.

Kelegorm: (with a sleepy voice) Tell us another story, Grandmother...

Mirielle: (smiling) What is it, my brave hunter?

Kelegorm: (covering her eyes) About how you and grandfather first met...

She begins to tell the story with a quiet laugh, and there is comfort and peace all around. Even though it was already nightfall, this small company was light with love and mutual warmth.

[comdrspock]

True Blue

It wasn’t unheard of for Amanda to receive a message from her son Spock, though he was most often stationed far away in a different quadrant of the galaxy. He did his best to stay in touch in spite of his often unpredictable schedule, and she appreciated his efforts a great deal. Sometimes, however, she selfishly wished he would do a poorer job. It was one thing to be aware of how dangerous his Starfleet career could be and quite another to hear a detailed account of his most recent brush with death. That Spock always recounted these adventures as drily and matter-of-factly as possible was, if anything, worse for Amanda’s nerves than learning the gory details.

This call was out of the ordinary in part because it had nothing to do with any of Spock’s most recent missions. He inquired about her experiences as a human woman on Vulcan and even, to her great surprise, about her courtship with his father. The two of them usually danced around the subject of Sarek, with whom Spock had barely been on speaking terms since he left Vulcan to attend Starfleet Academy years ago. Though he posed them with his usual impersonal, academic curiosity, the questions themselves raised Amanda’s suspicions.

She knew, of course, about the fractured engagement between Spock and T’Pring. Arranging a marriage for her son at such a tender age had always made her uncomfortable, but as in so many things in her marriage, she hadn’t protested Sarek’s insistence on following his tradition. As the human wife of a very stubborn Vulcan man, she had to pick her battles. She and Sarek had been away on a diplomatic mission and therefore unable to return home for what should have been Spock’s wedding, which was probably for the best. Her husband had been furious at what he perceived to be an insult to his house and his son. Only time and distance had cooled his head.

At the time, she’d been hurt for Spock, too—who could ask for a better husband than her son? But her romantic heart had whispered that now he was free. 

She hadn’t thought much about the matter since then. When she did hear from Spock about his work, he mentioned his close colleagues only in passing, so that she knew the captain’s name, but no one else’s. He had certainly never talked about any women. Yet now...now, she wondered. Why these questions, and why now?

“Spock,” she asked, wishing she could reach across the unfathomable distance that separated them and touch his dear face, “is there a reason you’re asking me all this?”

Though she had no telepathic abilities and though he’d carefully trained in all those Vulcan mental disciplines, Amanda knew him better than almost anyone in the galaxy. She’d given birth to this boy, raised him, and knew his tells. As she watched him glance away from the screen and watched the corner of his mouth twitch, she had to keep herself from laughing out loud. 

He looked back at the screen and, after a moment’s silence, he said, “You will certainly be the first to know if there is, Mother.”

When the call ended, Amanda was on cloud nine. Her head was full of thoughts of weddings and grandchildren and a thousand questions about the woman who had brought that softness into Spock’s face. Amanda loved her already, whoever she was, whatever she looked like, whichever position she held aboard the Enterprise. 

*     *     *

Spock felt better after talking to his mother. He was more sure of himself and of his plans and more confident about asking Christine to bind herself to a him despite his alien ways. After all, if his mother could live with Sarek on Vulcan with few qualms, surely it was logical to think that Christine could find contentment with him on a starship or even a colony somewhere. Though their future after this mission was still hazy, he doubted that either of them would leave Starfleet, and he had no intention of returning to Vulcan permanently with or without a human wife.

He now had to consider a proposal and balancing Christine’s human expectations with his own more reserved nature. They had discussed the ways in which Vulcan marriage went beyond the human notion of matrimony only briefly. His mother had reassured him that she found her own mental bond with Sarek, while it had taken some “getting used to,” wonderful. He only hoped that Christine, medical professional that she was, would not be intimidated by the idea.

But this morning there were other matters at hand. The Enterprise had picked up a message from a nearby Class M planet that had, it seemed, very recently developed the technology necessary to contact potential life beyond their planet. Their society was reminiscent of that on Earth several centuries earlier, and the captain assembled a small landing party that included Spock, Uhura, and one of the ship’s anthropologists to beam down.

“Their energy clearly comes from a non-renewable and toxic source such as coal, captain,” Spock remarked with distaste as soon as they materialized on the surface. The acrid smell of smog that hung in the air made his tricorder readings completely unnecessary to back up that particular observation.

@multirptrash

[autumnmobile12]

After the release of the official Nocturne trailer, we're all asking where Alucard is.

Here's my two cents and two theories:

Theory 1: The Years Got to Him

Being effectively immortal, Alucard would have watched Trevor and Sypha die, and then he inevitably would have watched their children die, and then their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

How long would it have been before couldn't bear the thought of seeing another life he'd known since birth age and pass away? How many times did he recognize Sypha's laugh or Trevor's eyes in their descendants before he said, "No more. I can't do this any more."

So he puts himself to sleep with the instructions to the family to wake him 'in their darkest hour' or something like that. Over time, he becomes a family legend and then forgotten. In his absence, the Belmont village crumbles and disappears, taking with it all the knowledge and advancements its people.

Because as we know from the original series, humans forget.

...

Theory 2: The Belmonts Drove Him Out

I know what you're thinking: Trevor and Sypha would never. And you're right, they wouldn't. Their children and grandchildren probably wouldn't either. By the time we get to Christopher Belmont, he probably never met his great-grandparents, but he would know the stories and honor their memories.

But in the two hundred years between him and Richter?

The Belmonts are a long-lasting family, and like any other family, they can adapt and go through changes. They are subject to past traumas and prejudices, can lose sight of original purposes, or can straight up become corrupted by any number of things.

We see it with kings, emperors, CEOs, and even just regular families. All it takes is one asshole who chose to ignore the wisdom of his ancestors to ruin a good thing.

Say some Belmont down the line--Soleil, Simon, or Juste or anyone--lost someone important to a vampire and they swore vengeance on the entire race, as Dracula had once done on humanity. Alucard steps in to stop them and remind them of their history, and his words are met with a cold, "What do you know? You're just an old dhampir we should have done away with decades ago!"

This is just a scenario, but it is a possibility Alucard could have had a falling out with his family. Maybe they tried to kill him and he fled. Maybe they nearly succeeded in killing him and he sealed himself in his coffin to recover as he did in the original series.

He's no stranger to betrayal, after all.

This would depend heavily on the 'dear person' Olrox lost. Was their death warranted? Were they a menace to society and had to be put down?

Or have the Belmonts gone astray and Richter's mother killed them simply for existing? This option might be indicative as to why Olrox spared Richter. Killing a defenseless child would have saved him a lot of trouble in the future, but perhaps he chose to be better (the lesson learned in the original series) than the mother and risk the consequences later. Mother might have killed just because of a vampire, but Olrox refused to kill just because Richter was a Belmont.

...

Unrelated, but this could also be a set-up a 'break the chain of sorrow' trope in which this scenario played out: Richter's father was killed by Olrox's 'friend' for lack of a better word, Richter's mother then kills Olrox's lover out of vengeance, Olrox kills her out of vengeance, leaving Richter to either take vengeance himself or break the chain of sorrow by accepting that if this revenge continues, there will be nothing left but sorrow.

I'm probably putting way too much thought into all of this, but...there you go.

[swallowedbyfandom]

Dear Ben,

I just saw the letter you send to Fran and John. I have to say I am quite disturbed by the obscene content. That doctor must have really rattled your delicate sensibilities. Why else would you send such madness out to your siblings? Really, to send such a thing to sweet Fran? I will never be able to look you in your eyes again.

I must also point out, the name calling was rather unnecessary. There was no need to heap rudeness on top of your filth. I do not even understand why you are so upset about this. All the whispers around you suggest you have been without dignity for years. I would think given your rumored history performing for someone would be old hat for you. Are you an ageist?

Your lack of care in sharing that horrific letter leads me to believe you are a rather shameless individual over all. So that cannot be the issue. Good god Ben, I think you almost made John faint out of sheer embarrassment. I would not count on a response from him or Fran.

Fran looked murderous after finishing your note. I truly believe she would have headed back to Mayfair to commit some great crime against your person had she not just discovered she is pregnant. You owe that baby your life, brother. That's right Benedict, your letter overshadowed our sister's announcement that she was with child. All their struggles to conceive and your hysteria ruined our celebratory brunch.

How men are considered the more emotionally stable gender, I will never know. So what? Some doctor asked you to take yourself in hand. That does not even sound that bad. Did that entitle you to give the rest of us nightmares? Get ahold of yourself, brother.

You really should have been able to figure out I was the one who set mama on you, without threatening all our siblings. For the record, I did not say you could not sire children. I did not even hint at that. Mama must have drawn her own conclusions. I merely questioned if in light of your injury it would be prudent to make haste with your marriage before you injured yourself once more.

I will not be held responsible for our mother's actions. I assumed mama would shove you at every available lady until you finally married one. I cannot predict the future. I had no way of knowing mama would be so ruthless in her pursuit of grandchildren. She has always seemed so predictable and tame compared to the rest of us.

I will not apologize for throwing you under the carriage. I am sure you will enjoy marriage, more than I ever would. You are one of those nauseating romantics. Also as a man you will always have more privileges and rights in a marriage than I could ever dream of having. So be a good brother and take this one for the team. You have had years to enjoy your freedom. I have not.

While I feel no guilt pushing you into the line of fire. I feel terrible that you have unraveled so. To assuage my guilt I offer you the following suggestion. You can feign interest in the most abhorrent lady on the marriage mart. Mama surely won't let just anyone carry her grandchildren. She would be so distracted trying to keep you two apart you could continue your wanton lifestyle.

I love you. Stay strong, brother.

Still free,

El.

To my most treacherous sister,

This means war. I hope you enjoy your freedom while it lasts. I am positive 1818 will be most eventful for you!

I am overjoyed to report that I have immersed myself in society this season. I have made so many new gentlemen friends. I have sung your virtues to all.

My most favorite sister. A brilliant girl, beautiful and bold. Who hides her soft interior beneath a tough exterior. Longingly she awaits the day she finally meets a gentleman patient and persistent enough to see past the abrasive persona. My sweet, Eloise. Who is currently away at Scotland refining her womanly talents under the guidance of the Queen's former diamond. She is truly a challenge for any worthy gentleman.

You will be happy to know that mama has only been introducing me to ladies that fit the description of my lady in silver. Mama after all understands that my heart is already set on that beguiling creature.

To thank her for her understanding I have updated our family portrait gallery wall. In addition to adding our nieces and nephews, I have updated your portrait. Truly it is some of my best work. You look so ethereal and feminine. Mama hung it right where all our guest can see. Darling sister, I can wait for you to come home. You are missed by more people than you realize.

Your move,

Ben

Pen,

You must tell me, what has Ben done? Has he been marketing me? Will I come home to the hoard of eager gentlemen? What of mama? She is being rather calm in her letters. I feel she must be lulling me into a false sense of security. Help me!

Panicking,

El

Eloise,

Dearest, you have given Ben months uninterrupted to lay the groundwork for his revenge. Benedict I must admit, has a gift for manipulation. He has done a remarkable job of advertising you as the second coming of Aphrodite. All the gentlemen in society are riled up into a competitive frenzy.

I guarantee when you return, you shall be drowning in suitors. I am certain you could return home bald and covered in horse droppings and still you would receive proposals. You are now a much grander prize than any mere diamond. That portrait Benedict created was a stroke of genius. It is exquisite.

You are right to be wary of your mama. I am certain you and Ben have already wandered into her trap. Good luck.

Most impressed,

Pen

Brother,

Do you not worry about those gentlemen turning on you? What happens when they realize you sold them a dream but handed them a nightmare?

Concerned,

Col

Pen,

Do you think Benedict or Eloise realize Violet is playing the both of them? I mean clearly she has them both doing her dirty work for her. You see that, right? Anthony thinks his mother is guileless.

Love,

Kate

[mama-qwerty]

Hei. Do you think there’s version of Knuckles that’s immortal? In some versions he was possible created by the Master Emerald and is her child/vessel/guardian, so I think the ME keeps him alive infinitely for protection, entertainment (gets boring being alone) and caretaking of Angel island (and occasionally the world).

I am an equal opportunity Knuckles enjoyer! I love all versions of the boy, from cryptid-esque mainline!Knux, to buff himbo Boom!Knux, to different-backstory-but-equally-adorable movie!Knux, to over-the-top almost self-destructive Dread. My beloved.

So, I am very familiar with the headcanon/fan theory that the ME actually created mainline!Knuckles, and he's not quite right. He's not a normal echidna, and holds many (again, fan headcanoned) quirks and abilities that come with being an ME created person.

He is able to sense, and control, the chaos energy that surrounds all things. He himself is just filled to the brim with it, but he never draws on it, as that would make him dangerously OP in battles. But he could, if he really needed to.

His connection to the ME is different from any other guardian before him, because he was created by the ME itself. His tether to it is stronger, as they are, in essence, one in the same. He's her avatar, her connection to the mortal plane, and maybe through him, she can understand mortals a little better than she had before. Time is meaningless for a giant magic rock, but through Knuckles, she can see the ripples created through the actions of a few special souls.

So, as a 'child' of the Master Emerald, is Knuckles immortal? There's a very good chance he is. The incredible amount of chaos within him would keep him healthy, keep him fit, keep him strong and capable of guarding the ME for as long as she deems it. She is immortal, an object without start or end, so it stands to reason that she would make him to be as long-lasting as she is.

Now, that doesn't mean Knuckles has 'always been'. I'm not sure how long ago she created him, but I have a fic theorizing how that went. Maybe she created him hundreds of years ago. Or maybe she created him when she felt the upcoming birth of Sonic. (She can see all of time, and that hedgehog's influence in the time stream must seem like dropping a boulder in a puddle.)

Sonic himself seems to be a force of chaos, the unpredictable wind that behaves however he pleases, so she created Knuckles as the counter to try and temper Sonic's unpredictability. The mountain to Sonic's chaotic influence. She was ignorant in the ways of mortals, after all, and what she saw was a little hog being a big source of disturbance. She needed her avatar to try and reign in the boy in.

Little did she know that Sonic's influence would have an effect on her guardian.

Sonic taught Knuckles how to enjoy life. And that sometimes you have to leave where you're most comfortable to fight the bigger evil.

It's entirely possible that Knuckles is immortal, and he'll watch his friends pass on, one by one. Maybe they'll fall in battle, fighting Eggman or whatever evil threatens their home and other innocents. Maybe they'll pass when they've grown old, surrounded by loved ones, secure in the knowledge they've kept the planet safe for future generations.

But Knuckles will remain.

And maybe he'll want to keep his memories, holding them dear to his heart as he goes on, teaching their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren, passing on the knowledge he'd gained over the years.

And maybe he'll beg the ME to take his memories. Keep them safe, but please, please take them. They hurt him too much, to remember what he's lost. To know that his friends all grew old, and he stayed young and healthy. To watch as their light flickered and went out, as his continued to burn solid and bright.

He has fought countless battles, defeated untold enemies.

But one he can't defeat is grief.

And he can't deal with it. Not now. It hurts. It hurts too much. He doesn't want to feel this, doesn't want to make new friends if this is how it feels when he ultimately outlasts them.

And maybe the ME does take his memories. And things are fine for a while.

But then, one day, a newcomer arrives on Angel Island. Perhaps a descendant of one of his first friends. And they seem familiar to Knuckles, somehow, but he tries to get rid of them. They're stubborn, though. They remain and talk to him, telling him of the stories passed down, of the guardian of the Master Emerald, the one who fought all those years ago, alongside the other heroes of Mobius. Did he know that guardian?

And maybe Knuckles pauses. He didn't want to remember. But they came anyway, as the ME gently replaces just a few at first. Just the ones he needed to remember.

And he nods and says, "I am he. I knew them."

Which starts a new connection with new friends, born of his old.

And life will go on for the immortal guardian. And he will live for those who have moved on.

Because that is all he can do.

But maybe . . . maybe that is what he was truly made for.

[ghostiiess]

[NSB LOVE LETTERS] - special valentine's day!!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

hii! since it's valentine's day, I had the idea to make a special post about love letters :) note that this is only what I think they could write in a letter like this!

happy valentine's day and thank you for all the support, it really mean a lot to me <3 single or not, know that you are loved and appreciated!

i hope you guys will like it!

have fun reading!

this is 100% wholesome and sweet! all the members are here and ready to deliver their love to you!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: oliver moy

Dear Y/N..

I was hesitating for a while before writing you this letter since I don't really know how to do it, how to use the right words and especially I don't know if a letter would be something you would appreciate.

I know that you have already seen tiktoks talking about love letters, that you were talking to me a little bit about it since I was curious about it. I know you were not talking to me about it as if it was something you wanted, but here it is… I cracked.

I wanted to try to write you a love letter.

I don't want to make it too long, since as you know, I prefer to reveal my love to you in voice message or face to face, but for you, i'm willing to make an effort <3

You are my one and only partner, Y/N. I want you to know that. You're my last one, especially. I couldn't ask for a better partner than you. You are the only person I would like to start my future life with later and have children. Sure, we are still young, but you see... you are the only one I would like to tell my grandchildren "This is her… This is the girl I fell in love with, when I was 21. This is her… my soulmate".

Am I being too cheesy? Maybe, but you love it. I know you're smiling through this letter and that thought makes me smile too.

I wish I could tell you how blessed I am to have met you, how happy you make me, but I'd rather tell you tonight at my apartment when we are alone.

Thank you for everything, my beautiful Y/N.

You are such a great person and deserve all the happiness in the world.

I love you.

I love you with all my heart and I hope I can still tell you that until i die. You don't know how happy you make me everyday when I see you.

Happy Valentine's Day, my love

by your pretty boy, oliver moy

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: sebastian moy

Dear Y/N..

I am a terrible writer, you will know. Not a very romantic start, I apologize, but know that I've always had trouble writing love letters.

Ok, maybe the word 'always' is exagerated here..

'Until today' should be better, since this is my first love letter I've written in my life and all. Oh my gosh, sorry, this is so unorganized, I apologize.

Let's restart...

Happy Valentine's Day, baby.

I hope you'll like my little love letter that I, Sebastian Moy, wrote for you.

I've never been the kind of boy who would write letters, who would write them for fun, who would write my feelings on pieces of paper, but this year I thought I'd write you one, despite my lack of romance in these things.

I hope it makes you smile as much as you make me smile. You are one of the people who make me feel good when I'm sad, you are one of the people who make me feel better when I'm at my lowest, you are one of the people who make me feel 'new' when I feel ugly and bad. You are a person I have always wanted to have around.

In others words: You are like my role model. A person I always wanted to have in my life when I was younger. sorry if that sounds really weird, I write what's on my mind and this is what happens.

I like you, Y/N, and even if I don't always show it, I admire your strength and positivity towards the whole world full of problems.

I love you so so much.

I can't wait for you to tell me if this letter made you smile or cry. If it did make you cry, I hope it was from tears of joy and not from sadness because my letter sucked or something.

With much love and support,

Sebastian Moy (himself, baby)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: justin phan

Dear Y/N…

On this special Valentine's Day, I decided to write you a love letter. Why? Because I saw it on Tiktok and I thought it might make you smile.

I had the idea to write you one in the past, but I never found the right time or the right words to do it, so I thought that today couldn't be a better day to deliver my love through pieces of paper.

I know that in the letters we have to compliment the person and how lucky we are to have the person, but I won't do it all, since I have a lot of things to thank you for and appreciate about you.

I may be cringeworthy, but only for you, my love.

(okay, sorry, that was really not good. I apologize, Y/N.)

So, what do I appreciate about you?

A lot of things.

One of them is your humor.

You have the same kind of humor as I do and I love it. I feel like any boring topic could turn funny with you. For example, I find that talking about bugs for 45 minutes could bore me, but I feel like with you, everything would be funny and super fun.

I feel like being with you, makes me a better person, makes me a better version of myself, that I am one of the luckiest guys to have someone like you in my life.

I don't say it enough, but thank you Y/N. Thank you for being in my life and accepting me as I am, for not judging me.

You are so caring, so funny, so special to me, so fun to be with, so creative. You are you and I love that. I love that you can be 100% vulnerable with me and vice versa. I love that you are always there to cheer me up even when I say I'm fine. I love you with all my heart. I truly do. You're the reason why I get up everyday and why my smile is so special. You're the reason behind it.

I feel like my letter is getting longer and longer and more cringeworthy. Sorry. I can't seem to choose the right words. Maybe you liked it? I hope you did. Tell me if you did, please. I feel like this love letter is not cute enough :(

I can't wait for tonight.

I love you Y/N.

Yours truly,

Justin Phan <3

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: ryan nguyen

Dear Y/N..

I would never think of writing a single love letter in my life.

Never.

To me, writing a romantic letter is synonymous with something loving that you give or do at a certain time in your life when the relationship is going well.

And I believe that this letter, the only one I'll ever write, belongs to you. It is only yours. Because I don't want any other lover in my life. I put all the love and affection I had for you in it.

I really hope it will make you smile and warm your heart, as you warm my heart every time you smile at me.

If you didn't smile at this sentence, I'm disappointed >:( I thought it was really cute.

I love your personality and the way you see things. I like how you look at the world and say "I want to make this world a better place". And I think you have succeeded. I'm not complaining, I love doing my job, interacting with the Stars, making music with Oli and filming lots of videos. I love it. But I feel like the world is becoming a darker and darker place for some people and I really feel like you're the one who shines the world. You are the sun and I am the moon. You are the stars and I am the warmth of the sky that warms you when you are cold. You are my other half and even though I sound really romantic and maybe cringe, I feel like you are a source of light to this world and make this world a more beautiful and peaceful place.

You are an inspiring person, Y/N.

You inspire me every day.

Even though I work a lot and stream a lot on Twitch, I want you to know that you are worth a lot to me, that you are someone important to me and that I never thought I would love someone this much.

I'm rather cold with people and let's say a little more discreet compared to other boys (like regie), but I assure you that my affection and feelings for you are very present and will be for the rest of eternity.

I miss you very much.

I can't wait to see you again and give you a hug.

I love you Y/N. I'm proud of you of what you've become and what you're going to be when you grow up. You are an inspiration and a source of positivity for many, including me.

Happy Valentine's Day my love <3

Ryan Nguyen

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: kane ratan

Dear Y/N.. How do I start this letter?

I would like to do something romantic like in anime or old romantic movies where does the boy write a super beautiful letter and the girl gets it and she's like "OMG!!!! YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE!!!" and she kisses him? Yeah, I listen to mushy movies sometimes, sometimes it happens…

There was a manga about a relationship that revolved around love letters. I think the name of the manga was "A Perfect Day for Love Letters". I would love to go and buy it. We could go together and make a date out of it! Like writing love letters to each other, danse to old love songs...

I'll be honest. I've never really written love letters. You're my first, and hopefully my last. Last in the meaning that I wouldn't want to write to anyone but you. Not in the meaning of the last love letter I write, since I'm sure it might make you smile to receive one from time to time without you expecting it.

I am writing this letter hoping to make you smile on this Valentine's Day. I know that tonight we are supposed to go to a restaurant together and celebrate this day together, but I also feel like it might make you smile if you received a little attention before we go out tonight.

I don't know what you're going to wear, but I know you'll be beautiful. You'll look stunning. And not just a little. You're always beautiful and I know you're probably reading this letter before you get ready and stressing about your outfit, but know that you're beautiful in everything and even if you were going to wear flashy blue pants with a purple dress with green polka dots and high-waisted mustard yellow shoes, know that you'd still be very beautiful. Your beauty is not measured, Y/N. It's impossible to do it.

I don't want to make this love letter too long, since I want to save some words for tonight, but know that you are someone who inspires me and makes me see the world in a different way than I usually do.

Thank you for always being there for me and always making me smile in any situation.

I appreciate you so much and can't wait to see you tonight. I really look forward to proving to you how much you mean to me in my life.

I love you.

Kane Ratan

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: darren liang

Dear Y/N..

I'm writing you this love letter since I thought it might be romantic and quite generous of me to do it like in the 40's movies or something. I think it was in the 40's? Was it? I think yes.

Do you remember the time when we met?

You were so beautiful. And you still are! Don't worry, it's just that I'm talking in the past tense. Well, present tense too. I know you understand what I'm trying to say!!! Sorry, I'm not really good into this kind of thing, but I hope you see the effort I put into you and showing you my affection and love for you with this little love letter that I made for you.

You were hanging out in the supermarket looking for tubs of ice cream since you had just been left by your boyfriend (what an asshole, by the way, plus he is ugly. Did you see how I didn't use the term "was"? lol) and that's when I saw you. You were so beautiful. So so so beautiful.

Justin dared me to go ask for your number, but since I had just seen that you had runny mascara (you didn't realize it, but you had a little bit under your eyes.. it was cute, don't worry baby!), I didn't want to. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't want to bother you. But you came up to me and pointed me the freezer with all the different kinds of ice cream and asked me if I was tall enough to give your fav to you, since you were so short. And still are, baby. You're still short. But I like it. It feels like I'm holding the world in my arms. And you're my world *lip bite because I can do it*.

When I saw that it was you, I was in shock. Why? Because a hot girl with a black hoodie and messed up mascara had just talked to me and wanted me to help her because she was too small to get the ice cream?

I thought that was incredibly cute.

You are incredibly cute.

And you know the rest, we exchanged numbers because you said the strawberry ice cream was better than the cookie and cream. And we kept fighting and saying why ours was better than the other.

And I promised that we would each taste the ice cream together to determine which was better.

Needless to say, our choices were quickly erased when we tasted the coffee one. I thought it was going to be bad, but it quickly went into my top 3. It's really delicious.

That's why I'm inviting tonight (date not prepared, I know you like it!!) to an ice cream place. Dress sexy (as usual then since you always are *another intense lip bite*). I'll send you the address in texts.

Love you Y/N, happy Valentine's Day! Can't wait to see you tonight and take off your clothes- IM KIDDING, I KIDDING. Unless..

(im just kidding, pls don't be mad)

From Darren Liang, aka your favorite NSB guy (ilysm my pretty girl, you're the girl of my dream)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

to: you

from: regie macalino

Dear Y/N…

I was thinking today about how much I love you, and how I don't tell you enough. So I wanted to sit down and let you know how much I am truly in love with you by writing you a love letter.

This letter will be nonchalant since I'm a nonchalant guy and I have an university by that name.

I still remember (and always will) the moment when you walked into Seb's party (oli told me you were his best friend? lmfao, i didn't know seb had hot friends like you..) wearing that stunning black dress. You were smiling so fucking hard. You were the light of Seb's party. I know it was his birthday, but still.. It felt like you were the main character of the party. You were so fucking hot and beautiful?? And still are, obvs. I knew immediately that I had to meet you. Otherwise, i would have regret it later. I went to the bathroom to try to summon up my courage and think of what to say. I didn't want to sound like an asshole, you know? I wanted to make a good first impression. I was totally tongue tied when I approached you. I was smitten from the very start. I was trying to stay calm in the outside, but in the inside, I was screaming.

And here we are a year later, and you still leave me weak in the knees. You also leave me weak in the knees when we do something naughty naughty, but let's not talk about that. For now, at least.

I truly think you are the most beautiful women in the world I ever seen. I love the feeling of your legs intertwined with mine and the smell of your hair and skin on me. I don't know which products you're using, but dang it! Your hair are so soft and smell so good. And your smile.. Damn it, your fucking smile. Your smile lifts my spirits on even my worst days. You're making me a weak man, Y/N. And I don't hate that. I love your laugh and your ability to find humor in every situation we're living together. I’m so grateful for everything you do for me: from the midnight snacks you give me when I'm streaming to the magnificent backrubs I can have when I'm tired.

I think what I'm trying to say is that you truly complete me. The last one year have been the happiest of my life. I can’t tell you how freakin lucky I am to have you in my life and being able to call you mine.

I will always love you, no matter what happens. I'll be absolutely true and faithful to you forever. I promise. And you know that I don't make promises when I know I won't able to make them come true.

I love you a lot and I can't wait to see you tonight.

Have a good Valentine's day, beautiful girl.

Regie Macalino (he's very nonchalant and sexy)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿

hope you guys liked it <3 tell me if i should do more of these or not!!

this was only a pure work of imagination and creation. the boys did not really wrote these letters.

taglist: @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby

if you want to be added to my taglist, please tell me!!

[sotwk]

Can you tell us more about Mirion's wife and children 👀

Hello Anon! I believe this is the second time you've asked me about Crown Prince Mirion and his family, and appreciate your interest so much. 🥰 Mirion is my personal favorite of the OC Thranduilions, so any inquiries about him are dear to me.

I have been keeping the details about Mirion's family under wraps for so long, but I no longer see a good reason to keep them secret, so here we go: some basic headcanon info that will hopefully satisfy your curiosity. 😉

For those who might care: some SotWK AU Spoilers ahead!

SotWK AU Headcanons: Crown Prince Mirion and his "Golden" Family

Although Mirion tragically died in his attempt to free his homeland from the Necromancer (his efforts did drive Sauron out of Dol Guldur for a time and gave Mirkwood four centuries of respite), he left behind a beautiful wife and two children to continue his legacy. His son gave Thranduil a new heir and continued hope for the future of their line and kingdom.

Because Mirion's wife was an Eldar of powerful lineage and incredible strength in her own right, she and their children helped Mirkwood to stay strong and protected through the dangers the realm faced in the Third Age.

And when Thranduil's grandchildren took over the rule of Eryn Lasgalen in the Fourth Age, it ushered in a new Golden Era for the last remaining Kingdom of Elves on Middle-earth.

MIRION'S WIFE - PRINCESS ITARILDË

SotWK Fancast: Teresa Palmer (A Discovery of Witches)

Mirion's wife is Princess Itarildë, an elleth with a rare mix of Noldor-Vanyar-Teleri blood with "royal" lineage on both sides of her family.

Itarildë’s mother is Nimeithel (a SotWK OC), the younger sister of Nimloth and niece of Celeborn.

Nimeithel is featured in my ongoing Thranduil x Maereth series, Sins of Our Fathers. She grew up with Thranduil in Doriath, and was the one who introduced him to Maereth.

Itarildë’s father is Maranwon (SotWK OC), the grandson of Glorfindel and his wife Elemírë (SotWK OC), who was the sister of Elenwë, late wife of King Turgon.

Itarildë has a high Eldar "pedigree" due to her lineage, but that was not what attracted Mirion to her. On the contrary, her noble background nearly caused the Crown Prince to decide against pursing her hand in marriage, despite their deep love for each other.

Before ever meeting Itarildë, Mirion had intended to choose his wife and future Queen among the Silvan elves of Greenwood, out of love for his people and his wish to honor the land's native race. (Something Thranduil was unable to do by marrying a Noldor.)

Mirion agonized over this conflict between his duty and his heart until his parents persuaded him to pursue his own happiness.

Itarildë is older than Mirion by a few decades, born in Lothlorien but raised in Rivendell. Her father died in the War of the Last Alliance fighting alongside his surrogate father, Gil-galad.

She takes after her father's side of the family; she is passionate, joyful, strong-willed, and has a radiant presence that commands and captivates every room she enters. She has a compassionate heart and a determination to effect good changes in the world.

She adores her husband's brothers and counsels and cares for them as an elder sister.

She is a fearless and skilled warrior (what else would you expect from the great-granddaughter of Glorfindel), who more than holds her own whenever she marches into battle alongside the princes.

It is later discovered that something about Itarildë’s presence causes the Spiders of Mirkwood to flee; just looking upon her somehow pains or deters them, and so they never attack her directly.

Mirion's death broke Itarildë and very nearly caused her to fade; she was brought back only by the healing efforts and pleas of her daughter. But her joyful spirit never recovered.

MIRION'S SON - PRINCE ARANION

SotWK Fancast: Bradley James (Merlin)

Aranion is the elder child of Mirion and Itarildë, making him the eldest grandchild of Thranduil and second-in-line to the throne of the Woodland Realm.

Upon Mirion's death, Aranion inherited the title of Crown Prince of Mirkwood. (This responsibility never fell to Legolas, which is why he remained free to travel, join the Fellowship, and and even sail to Valinor as he eventually did.)

After Maereth died, Thranduil became very focused on preparing Aranion for the throne, since he was then resolved to sail for Valinor and rejoin his wife--once the future of Mirkwood and his people had been secured with his grandson in place.

The name Aranion translates to "Son of the King" in Quenya, but the prince was actually named after the plant kingsfoil or athelas, also known as asëa aranion. Kingsfoil did not grow naturally in the Greenwood forest, since it thrived in the Western lands.

However, in the year of Itarildë's pregnancy with Aranion, kingsfoil began to sprout in abundance in the lands surrounding their home.

Although the Mirkwood Elves previously had no use for kingsfoil, later in the Third Age the plant became an vital resource in their healing for wounds inflicted by orcs and other beasts coming from Dol Guldur.

Aranion is utterly devoted to his homeland and the Silvan people of Mirkwood, a sentiment that they reciprocate with fierce love and loyalty. While not as politically-savvy as his forebears, he is a "people's prince", spending most of his days working alongside the common folk of the realm.

Although he is often compared to his great, great-grandfather Glorfindel, Aranion's cheerful, energetic, and light-hearted temperament is actually most similar to that of his uncle Legolas, to whom he was always very close.

The Prince is a fearless and naturally gifted fighter, whose innate talents were enhanced by centuries of intensive instruction and training from the greatest warriors on Middle-earth, including Thranduil and Glorfindel.

As the darkness worsened in the Third Age, Thranduil grew extremely protective of Aranion, increasing to paranoia at the loss of his wife and each of his sons. As decades passed the prince's very existence soon became unknown to outsiders, which was what Thranduil had intended.

By the events of the Hobbit, Aranion was forbidden from traveling outside of Mirkwood, and was not permitted to participate in the Battle of the Five Armies.

MIRION'S DAUGHTER - PRINCESS ANARIEL

SotWK Fancast: Gabriella Wilde (The Three Musketeers, Poldark)

Anariel is the younger child of Mirion and Itarildë and second grandchild of Thranduil and Maereth.

Beautiful and sweet beyond compare, she is very much the darling treasure of not only her grandfather Thranduil, but also of her loving uncles who have doted on her since she was a baby (probably because they never had a little sister of their own).

Unlike her boisterous older brother, Anariel is reserved, introverted, and avoids drawing attention to herself. She prefers to listen rather than speak.

Large crowds and excessive noises make her very uncomfortable, and it is possible she suffers from a mild form of sensory overload.

However, she very much carries the courage and willingness to serve that runs in her family, and devotes herself to the welfare of the people of Mirkwood.

Anariel is highly intelligent, much like her uncle Arvellas. Being a voracious reader and learner herself, she grew especially close to the Scholar Prince and gained knowledge and abilities from him.

She lived in Rivendell for periods of long years throughout the Third Age, during which she was mentored by Lord Elrond himself, and became skilled in the healing arts.

Anariel has actually already appeared in one of my WIP fics, although she was not yet named/identified. The first person to comment and tell me correctly which fic/character I am referring to, will receive a special prize from me from the Tumblr Market!

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Tolkien Headcanon tag list: @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @klytemnestra13 @creativity-of-death @heilith @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @tamurilofrivendell @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @scyllas-revenge @asianbutnotjapanese @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @ratsys @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo

Interested in more SotWK AU content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

[heartblobs]

Late August, 1893

ℳ𝓎 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 ℰ𝓋𝒶,

I write this letter to you with great sorrow. I have fallen ill. Pnemonia, the doctor tells me. He says that there is hope for me, as I am in good shape for a man of my age. Alas, I fear he was only telling this old coot what he thought I'd like to hear. In truth I am not sure how much time is left for me and I do not wish to hide it from you. I may not live to see my grandchildren grow, or to meet any future little ones.

Please do not come to see me Eva. I would hate to have you contract any of my illness, and in turn contract it to the boys. I only ask for you to send as many letter as you can write, and to send any photographs of the children. I regret not meeting my newest grandson any sooner, and I would appreciate if you could give him a gentle hug from his old grandfather.

I love you, my dear. I will fight to beat this illness and meet Mycroft soon.

Your Loving Papa,

𝒢𝓇𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝑒𝓁𝒹

📜  ៸   𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧  ៸   𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔  ៸  𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕  

[renee-writer]

Frank Chapter 59

AO3

“Forgive my intrusion at such a delicate time.” She continues to stare at him.

 

“Where did you come from? I mean,” a shake of her head, “you seemed to have just appeared.”

 

“Yes, I have the ability to move through time without a connector like the Stones.”

 

“Oh, so you can just appear out of thin air?”

 

“Yes my dear but try not too. Don’t wish anyone any harm. I came to the outside of your door.”

 

“From where, I mean when?”

 

“2042. Fergus ‘ safe birth has assured a safe future.”

 

“I just don’t understand. I mean, alright his relative does something amazing in the future, I get that. But why does my parents have too…”

 

He fully enters and stands beside her, smiling down at the sleeping children. “I wasn’t fair. I am aware of that. They are connected. That is why they had to be the ones that traveled, assuring his safe arrival, your adoption of Jemmy.”

 

“You are connected too. You couldn’t …”

 

He shook his head looking down with a sigh. “Not close enough. I assured your birth was at the right time, they had to ensure Fergus ‘.”

 

Their conversation is interrupted by the entrance of Jamie and Colum.

 

“Mistress Fraser, I pray this isn’t a bad time. I wish to see the children.”

 

“Not at all. You have meet my parents. May I also introduce my grandfather, Master Raymond Beauchamp. Laird Colum Mackenzie.”

 

“Laird Mackenzie,” he bows low, “forgive my lack of decorum at not introducing myself to you first. I was anxious to meet my great -grandchildren.”

 

“Not at all Master Beauchamp. I fully understand.”

 

Jamie walks up and takes Fergus in his arms. “Uncle, my first born son, Fergus Brian Henry Fraser.”

 

It is the first time her relatives have heard his full name. They all gasp. Colum focuses on the baby, taking him carefully in his arms.

 

“Welcome to Castle Leoch Fergus, my brawl lad.”

 

Jamie then presents, “Faith Ellen Julia Fraser,” and her grandmother cries.

 

“Faith, what a sweet lass you are.” Her great-uncle declares.

 

He invites all to the Great Hall, “Where Fergus and Faith and their relatives will be introduced.”

[ahordeofwasps]

Find the Word Tag

I've been tagged by the terrific @charlesjosephwrites! Thanks for the tag! My words are understood, colour, tall, and open! I'll be sharing some excerpts from To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

But first, the no pressure tags! I'll be tagging @winterandwords, @loopyhoopywrites, @mary-is-writing, @spuddlespud, and open tag! Your words are contain, pain, vain, and slain!

Now, onto To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

Understood

The electrochemical synapses that consisted of Erika’s personality and memories and thoughts and feelings, which normally were housed in the grey matter of her brain, continued to be after brain death, though the form they continued as could no longer be described as electrochemical. Instead, these synapses were made out of time, an infinite number of possibilities reconciling with each other into what is. Erika understood none of this. She no longer was connected to her body and had no sensory input, still in the sleepy unconsciousness of hypothermia. It was only after her reaping, after she had passed on into the afterlife, did she awake. A soul is made out of time, out of possibility, and when awake takes on the shape of self. This varies from person to person, and although the form may largely mimic their dear departed bodies, it is never a perfect recreation. Erika noticed none of the differences, but the form her soul took was a bit gaunter than her earthly body, bones more angular, more pronounced underneath imagined flesh. The chitinous hair that had plagued her in life was longer and coarser, a slightly more vibrant shade of red, with the chitin itself spreading into deep widow’s peak on her forehead.

Colour

There were small occasions where Erika lingered truthfully, however. She stopped in the aisle with the shampoo, taking the time she normally spent pretending to read the ingredients in each bottle. Recently, Erika had noticed that her hair was turning red and was starting to become dry and chitinous. Although she liked the unexpected colour change, she disliked how she looked with a head full of chitin instead of hair. When Erika had examined her shampoo and conditioner, she discovered her shampoo was enchanted to give her the “dazzling hair of the future.” Erika did not want the hair of the future. She wanted the hair of the present.

Tall & Open

Mrs. Smith lived in the apartment directly below Erika. She lived alone but was not a lonely woman. Mrs. Smith’s doormat read “welcome” in letters so scuffed that it took at least a minute staring at the mat to read them. Every time Erika visited Mrs. Smith, she had a new framed picture of a friend or family member hanging on her wall, which had more nails than a hardware store. Mrs. Smith always insisted that visitors come in for a drink and would spend hours regaling them of the exploits of her children, her grandchildren, her great grandchildren, her great-great grandchildren, and her great-great-great grandchildren. Erika heard about these exploits often; she visited Mrs. Smith with a taco salad at least once a month. Erika cleaned the bottom of her shoes on Mrs. Smith’s doormat and rapped on the pink door. She heard shuffling from behind the door and a minute later it was opened by a tall muscular woman with wild grey hair wearing a floral dress and a lavender shawl. On the side of her neck was some dried blood surrounding two small puncture wounds. The woman beamed a smile at her. “Erika! It’s been a while!” Mrs. Smith said, before sniffing the air, “Oh! You shouldn’t have! No one makes it the way you do! My great-great grandson Mikey has tried to replicate it so many times, but he never gets it right.”

[antiquatedsimmer]

My Dearest Mother,

It feels as though only a few days have passed since I bid you farewell, and yet every new development serves as a painful reminder that you are no longer here to witness it. My heart aches, knowing that you could not be here to meet Eddy and embrace your precious grandchildren. Though I am aware that you watch over us from the heavenly realms, my longing for your physical presence remains.

Eddy has been an absolute blessing in my life. After you departed, everything seemed to unravel, and the hardships we endured weighed heavily on my conscience.

When I look upon our children, I am filled with apprehension about what lies ahead. Silas, our strong and resolute boy, possesses great determination and steadfastness in his work. However, I sense a lack of passion for the toil that Eddy embraces so fervently. Yet, the thought that brings solace is that once Edward and I depart from this world, Silas will inherit a wonderful home and a piece of land to raise his own family. He shall never have to endure the hardships of hiding away in a meager hut, as I once did. Although he may be a challenge to teach and mold, I have faith that he will find his own path.

However, it is when I gaze upon Lucile that a sense of anxiety befalls me, dear mother. It seems only yesterday that she was but a newborn babe, and now she blossoms into a beautiful young lady before my eyes. I fear for her future, for the day will come when Lucile shall stand as a grown woman. It is my duty to plan ahead, to ensure that she is not left behind or unprepared for the world that awaits her.

Silas may have a secure home, but Lucile cannot forever remain in the shadow of her brother. Her birthday approaches swiftly, prompting reflections on the conversations I shared with Edith regarding her daughter Josephine and the steps taken to prepare her for the future.

Though we lack the material wealth bestowed upon others, I am resolved to do whatever it takes to ensure that Lucile's happiness equals that which Silas shall find. I refuse to subject my children to the daily struggles that Edward and I have endured. They deserve a better life.

Oh, Mother, I carry your wisdom and love within me always, guiding me through the challenges that lay before us. May your spirit watch over us as we strive to create a brighter future for our beloved children.

With undying love and determination,

Helena Stoker Doyle Harrington

[mariacallous]

In fact, they spit on the natural right of billions of people, most of humanity, to freedom and justice, to determine their own future on their own. Now they have completely moved to a radical denial of moral norms, religion, and family.

Let's answer some very simple questions for ourselves. I now want to return to what I said, I want to address all the citizens of the country - not only to those colleagues who are in the hall - to all the citizens of Russia: do we want to have, here, in our country, in Russia, instead of mom and dad there was “parent number one”, “number two”, “number three” (they were completely crazy already there!)? Do we really want perversions that lead to degradation and extinction to be imposed on children in our schools from the primary grades? To be drummed into them that there are supposedly other genders besides women and men, and to be offered a gender reassignment operation? Do we want all this for our country and our children? For us, all this is unacceptable, we have a different, our own future.

I repeat, the dictatorship of the Western elites is directed against all societies, including the peoples of the Western countries themselves. This is a challenge for everyone. Such a complete denial of man, the overthrow of faith and traditional values, the suppression of freedom acquires the features of a "reverse religion" - outright Satanism. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus Christ, denouncing the false prophets, says: "By their fruits you will know them." And these poisonous fruits are already obvious to people - not only in our country, in all countries, including for many people and in the West itself.

The world has entered a period of revolutionary transformations, they are of a fundamental nature. New development centers are being formed, they represent the majority - the majority! - of the world community and are ready not only to declare their interests, but also to protect them, and see multipolarity as an opportunity to strengthen their sovereignty, which means to gain true freedom, a historical perspective, their right to independent, creative, original development, to a harmonious process.

All over the world, including in Europe and the United States, as I said, we have many like-minded people, and we feel, we see their support. A liberation, anti-colonial movement against unipolar hegemony is already developing within the most diverse countries and societies. His subjectivity will only grow. It is this force that will determine the future geopolitical reality.

Dear friends!

Today we are fighting for a just and free path, first of all for ourselves, for Russia, for diktat, despotism to remain forever in the past. I am convinced that countries and peoples understand that a policy based on the exclusivity of anyone, on the suppression of other cultures and peoples, is inherently criminal, that we must turn this shameful page. The collapse of Western hegemony that has begun is irreversible. And I repeat again: it will not be the same as before.

The battlefield to which fate and history have called us is the battlefield for our people, for great historical Russia. (Applause.) For greater historical Russia, for future generations, for our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. We must protect them from enslavement, from monstrous experiments aimed at crippling their consciousness and soul.

Today we are fighting so that it would never occur to anyone that Russia, our people, our language, our culture can be taken and erased from history.

[baby-mochi-558]

Dear Reader,

I am 82 years old, living in a small room of 12 square meters. I have four children, eleven grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. While I no longer possess a home or valuable belongings, I am grateful for the care provided here—someone cleans my room, prepares my meals, tends to my bedding, and monitors my health.

However, I miss the laughter and presence of my grandchildren. I no longer witness their growth, embrace their hugs, or hear their playful arguments. Some visit me every couple of weeks, some every few months, and some not at all.

I no longer bake cakes in the winter or tend to my garden. Though I still enjoy my hobbies and reading, my eyes tire quickly. I don't know how much longer I have, but I must adjust to this solitude. I try to stay active here, leading group activities and assisting those worse off than myself. Recently, I used to read aloud and sing with a bedridden woman in the next room, but she passed away the other day.

They say life expectancy is increasing. But for what purpose, when so many of us are left alone? I find solace in looking at photos of my family and reminiscing about the memories I brought from home.

I hope future generations understand that families are meant to stay connected and not forget their elders.

Please keep this letter private from my children.

With love,

Grandma Maria

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