#it's for the hope. it's for the joy. they're still there even when they're hidden behind the clouds.

[thatdude-noah]

sometimes i realize im depression posting on here too much and i force myself to regain a love and hope for life. depression sucks because so many of the things that you don't want to do are the things that are actually beneficial to getting better. clean up your room. brush your teeth. take a shower. call your friends. go for a walk. it will not solve your problems, but it can help you feel better. i swear.

[xxventiswindblumexx]

𓁹Let Me Breed You𓁹

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

-You help the Adaptus from dying in the snow and in return he wants to make you his mate-

Yandere!Xiao x afab reader

⚠Warnings⚠:Non-Con, force breeding, breeding kink, predator and prey dynamics, feral Xiao, injured Xiao, Blood, Yandere themes.

It was a cold morning in Liyue, snow scattered the ground of the region as most chose to stay home and enjoy the snow day, however you couldnt, you're a studying nurse who needed to test out some herbs and well these special herbs you're looking for only grow in the cold areas, so hoping to avoid a trip to Dragonspine with this newfound snow day you hoped to find the herb. The weather had turned for the worst, becoming even more bitter and cold, it made you feel like you were being eaten alive even if it wasn't all that bad. Just as you're about to give up your search you noticed something in the distance, squinting you realized it's... a person! They're laying in the snow, unmoving.

You quickly made your way to them to see it was the famous Adaptus Xiao, he was bloodied and unconscious.

Quickly you reached down to feel his neck, faint but he still had a pulse. So you used all your strength to pick up the Adeptus and carry him to your cabin nearby, tending to his wounds, luckily with him not being human he would heal rather fast with the help of your care.

After a few days of treatment and healing you had healed all of his injuries, thankfully not enough to leave permanent scars or be any trouble, but he will get better now, hopefully.

That's how it all started, how the lonely Adaptus Xiao found a new fascination, before now he didn't really have any relationships, any care for humans other then his usual duty to protect them. But then you came along and everything changed, you brought him joy when nothing else could. You helped him become what he wants and wanted is to find love again, he wants someone to take care of him, someone to treat his wounds and tell him everything will be okay. It's like there was never anything wrong with him, even when he didn't want to accept these feelings, he knew they where true.

Of course after a few months you suggested he should probably get back to his usual dutys now that he's healed but to come back occasionally to chat, it's true he was fine now but.. he didn't want to leave, he didn't want to be away for even a moment but complied for now, these strange feelings only becoming more complicated for the poor Adapti as he's trying to figure them out.

Obsession, a simple word that his once innocent love became, even with his duties he made time to watch over you, stalking from a distance and keeping himself hidden. He didn't know what to say to you, even with these feelings he was still very socially awkward so he opted to just watch for now.

But you never notice, no one did because he's very good at staying inconspicuous, and you never notice him because he can always blend into the background, especially when he needs to.

And thats how things continue, for a while, over a span of a year he would watch you become the nurse you wanted to be, getting your license. However that's a problem, you wanted to be a travelling nurse, he couldn't have you leaving, he already killed so many men who attempted to swoon you, sent you so many gifts that seemed strange for toy. Most being parts of the enemies he killed that day, to show he could fight for you, sometimes being food, to show he can provide for you and even once the head of a guy that was being overly flirty to you, to show he can protect you. However he never put who sent the presents, he assumed you would know, unknowingly you're freaking out from such strange gifts.

However now isn't the time for him to send gifts, he has to act. Though with his now clouded judgement and twisted thinking he learned humans don't generally leave partners if they have offsprings, he could do that, then you wouldn't leave, you couldn't.

So he decided a gentle approach first, appeared before your home for the first time in over a year since you parted ways, well as far as you knew. Of course not knowing he was responsible for all the strange occurrences around you, you where relieved to see him, even hugging him.

"Xiao! I'm so glad you're back!" You felt so protected with him around, afraid of the stalker you knew Xiao could protect you.

His face reddening some as he hesitated but held you close, almost not letting go. You let him in as you spoke, at first it was of simple things, about what has been up to what you been doing and so on. It seemed pleasant until he out of the blue tackled you to your futon, blushing hard as you looked up at him "X-Xiao whats-"

"Let me breed you"

a simple demand to him yet such a strong one for you, he just shows up after a year demanding such.. a huge thing.

"Xiao! Y-You can't just ask someone that-"

"Why? I've shown my love, I've shown my capabilities, just submit to me like a good mate won't you? " His eyes no longer held the same shy sweet look but rather an empty coldness you could only describe as pure lust. He was staring at you, waiting for you to respond to him. He looked hungry, almost predatory, yet you struggled against him, you even managed to push him off and run for the door, escaping out while he was confused at first but took it as a game of predator and prey, assuming you wanted him to catch you first.

He was soon chasing you outside your house with his mask on, you ran as fast as you could, you ended up hiding in a small cave area. Breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath, it was all so clear, he was the one doing all this, it made sense, he would be the only one able to pull it all off.

You needed to get help, to find someone, maybe even get Zhongli to hel-

"Found you" his voice spoke from behind you, before you could react he already had you pinned down onto the ground, panting from your sudden exertion. You couldn't move, you were stuck as much by fear as by his hold on you. "Xiao please-"

"Please what?" His eyes held no warmth anymore as he leaned in to whisper "Will you agree to let me mate you? To make us one forever?"

You shook your head as your heart sank to the ground, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from your fear. "No."

He froze for a moment before, he looked hurt for a second but brushed it aside. "Don't worry, you'll learn to love me as I am eventually, right?" His eyes held a cold look yet he didn't need your response, he would make you love him.

He held your wrists above your head with one hand as he kissed you harshly, his lips where cold as his other hand felt your clothes body, as if to admire how well you looked in your outfit before ripping it from you. You screamed as he did so, unable to stop yourself as his lips moved to attack your exposed body, biting and kissing every part of your body as you writhed against him, he gripped you harder and rougher each second as he devoured you with his mouth and teeth. You soon felt two of his fingers shove themselves into your hole, stretching and preparing you, you closed your eyes and cried out in pain as you felt his finger stretch inside of you. A loud cry left your mouth as you felt the pain, your eyes wide open as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

Suddenly he pulled out, leaving you gasping as the feeling of emptiness began to take over your whole body. You hated how your body betrayed you so, reacting to his touches like this. Before long you felt his cock slam into you, forcing himself further inside you making sure to keep most of his weight against you to keep you from wiggling away. Soon you saw stars as he slammed into you, his thrusts never failing to push himself as deep as he could, letting out animalistic growls as held you close to him, feeling his breath hitch some, his cock twitching inside as he continues his harsh pace. The next sound you heard was your own scream as his cum filled your womb and poured over your sensitive opening and out your body, coating you both in sticky white fluid and the smell was sickeningly sweet. As his cum dripped down you felt so tired, so exhausted. Barely able to keep your eyes open as he looked down at you, seemingly proud of the mess he made of you. "this will do nicely, there shouldn't be any reason you wouldn't bare my offspring" laying along side you on the cold ground, huddling you close to him. "I promise you I will always protect you and give you everything you crave" as he nuzzled your neck before finally falling asleep in your arms.

You remained silent as you felt your consciousness slip, the last thing you saw before you succumbed to sleep was the warm body next to yours holding you close as his breathing calmed and eventually slowed down until it turned quiet.

[iguessitsjustme]

Thinking about all of the people that tried to help Day when he was lost and confused. Thinking about how their kindness was his nightmare. Those strangers wanted to help, but all Day knew was that he was surrounded by people he couldn't see and had no way of knowing their intentions. Thinking of how they crowded him instead of giving him space. Thinking about that young man who helped Day cross the street and then left him, knowing he needed help. Thinking about how all of those people were concerned but not about Day the way they needed to be concerned. They wanted to help but in doing so didn't think about how Day might feel being surrounded like that. Or how he might feel being abandoned by the one person who took his arm to guide him to a safer place. Because sure, he wasn't in the street anymore, but that doesn't mean that he felt any safer.

Thinking about how when Mhok found him in a similar situation in the first episode, scared, alone, and in the middle of the street, Mhok didn't leave him after getting him out of the street. Mhok took him home. Mhok brought him to safety. Time and time again Mhok brings Day safety even when they're out of Day's comfort zone. Having Mhok there extends his comfort zone so he can go out.

Thinking about how Day was late and his mother panicked the way she would if Day was a young child out past curfew. Thinking about how she's not wrong to be worried but they way she worries is wrong. Thinking about the lies Night has told about why Day isn't around. Thinking about how Day's family treats him like they're marking time until he gets his eyes. But you can't stall life. It goes on regardless of circumstance. Thinking about how Mhok constantly reminds Day that he's more than just his eyes and that he's capable of still living. Thinking of how Day reminded Mhok on the subway that he has working legs and doesn't need a seat because of his eyes. "I just need you close to me."

Thinking about how Day is learning he is still himself. He's not just more than his disability. He's Day. He might not be a national athlete anymore, but he didn't go anywhere. He might have hidden himself behind anger and rage and pain, but he's still there. He can still laugh and find joy in life. His family helped him hide away and Mhok is reminding him of the whole world outside his bedroom.

Thinking about how Day meets his teacher and is reminded that everyone is going through something and the only way through it is to fight and to hope. And thinking about how Mhok is teaching Day to hope again. "I just need you close to me." Day needs Mhok close to him because Mhok is his hope.

[yunalinwrites]

kids on christmas eve | gojo satoru x reader

available on wattpad

cover by me

summary: you learn about what happened with geto suguru and make him talk to you about it

about reader: gender neutral, relationship to gojo is unclear but they're close, on a first name basis + implied to be romantic

warnings: sad (if i did my job right), mild cursing, spoilers for jjk 0 + gojo's past/hidden inventory/star plasma vessel arc

notes: i know this is really out of season bc christmas has long passed but its for the plot lol as u prob know dec 24th is an important date

anyways i prob could've edited more but tbh i just wanted to post it already lmao hope its not cringe cuz i didn't shower to finish it (avg jjk degenerate) also im angry this was correctly formatted in google docs but tumblr ruined it and i cant b bothered to reread it under the new formatting so srry if theres smth wrong

"Gojo-sensei, that's not fair!"

Itadori had his bottom lip stuck out, his arms crossed tightly and his feet stomping against the snow.

"Yeah, come on!" Kugisaki agreed, mitten-clad hands full of the cold ammunition. "Turn it off, will you?"

You looked over to where Satoru stood. The snowballs that floated around him made it a little hard to see, but you could still tell his face was like it always was: smiling, the only deviation from its usual state being the pink on his pale nose. The rosy shade was just like his tongue when he stuck it out. 

"Come and make me," he taunted.

"Why, you little..." Kugisaki grumbled. "Okay, Itadori, Formation B!"

"Roger!" Itadori yelled back.

The pair performed a number of flashy poses--as if they were trying to imitate something they'd seen in a cartoon--and before you knew it, they were charging at Satoru from two sides, arms fully loaded and wound back with mounds of snow. But it seemed Satoru knew it before you, because he just tsked--didn't even bother catching the snowballs, just let them fall apart against his forcefield.

"Gojo-sensei!" the two groaned in unison.

"You're no fun!" Itadori complained.

"It's not supposed to be fun," Satoru countered with a playful shrug. "Just because it's a snow day doesn't mean you can stop training."

"But... but... But what about...!" Kugisaki sputtered, a vein popping out of her forehead as she struggled to come up with an argument. You could almost see the lightbulb pop up above her head as she pounded her fist in her palm. "But what about global warming?"

"Yeah!" Itadori followed, not thinking. "What about--Wait, what?" Scratching his head, he tilted his head at Kugisaki.

"It could totally be the last day it ever snows, you know," she claimed matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips. "And I would so hate you forever."

Itadori's mouth formed a silent "Oh!" as Kugisaki elaborated. Nodding his head in accord, he added on: "Yeah, Gojo-sensei. I don't think I could respect you after that."

Satoru put on a dramatic pout at that last sentence, but he soon returned to a smile and gave in with a sigh. "Alright, just this once."

You could see the two students loudly jumping for joy from behind him as he made his way towards where you were sitting. You smiled warmly at the sight.

"They really are something," you commented.

"Tell me about it," Fushiguro grumbled, leaning boredly against the wooden armrest of the park bench. He observed quietly as his friends built a snowman in the distance until Satoru's towering shadow prompted him to look up.

"Megumi!" Satoru called, his voice high-pitched and sing-song. "Go play with the others."

The boy scowled in response. "I'm too old for that stuff."

"You think you're old?" Satoru challenged. He pointed at his hair, at the white color it's always been. "What does that make me?" He hunched over and put his hand on his lower spine, feigning back pain. "C'mon, listen to your teacher. Let me sit next to Y/N."

Fushiguro squinted at him for a moment before finally getting up."Gross."

You chuckled, watching the boy begrudgingly drag his feet through the snow towards his classmates, but your laughter hitched as you felt something push against you. Turning to your right, you saw his lanky teacher. At first the sensation didn’t make sense, considering that there was a considerable amount of distance between the two of you, but you soon recalled his defense measures and the complaints they had garnered. 

Not noticing your discomfort, he stared up at the cloudy sky for a moment before turning to you. 

"Are you cold?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I should be asking you," you replied, referencing his lack of winter wear. "Why didn't you wear a coat?"

"Well, it would ruin my outfit, of course," he stated perkily. He wore a confident smirk on his face, but looking closer you could tell he was shivering beneath the thin fabric of his uniform.

Taking a deep breath in disapproval, you reached for your scarf. "Here," you offered, unraveling the knot you’d made earlier. But when you reached to wrap it around his neck, you felt the resistance of his invisible force.

His smile eased. "It's okay," he obliged, sniffling. "Thank you, though."

You hesitated before tying your scarf back around yourself, the garment's chunky knit giving it enough volume to nearly cover your mouth and even your ears, but you could still hear his teeth chatter. You searched your surroundings, looking past the dead snow-adorned trees and following the wet pavement until you spotted something in the distance: a cafe, just down the street from where you were.

"I'll get you some hot chocolate," you decided, standing up and brushing the snowflakes off your coat.

"You don't--"

"Shh!" You pointed your finger threateningly at him before turning around to begin your walk. "Somehow you've bent logic so far that you'll end up sick if you don't drink it. So just take this as an excuse to have more sweets, alright?"

You were just about to make your first step away from the bench, but then you felt a firm grip wrap around your arm. "Wait, Y/N--"

Before he could finish his protest, he was cut off by a particularly firmly packed snowball striking him right in the middle of his face, highlighting his nose with the sparkling white powder and dislodging his blindfold. With his cerulean eyes now exposed, he turned his head and saw the three of them: Itadori pointing and cackling on the left, Kugisaki doing the same keeled over in the middle, and even Fushiguro, on the right, had the ends of his mouth perked up as he shook his head hopelessly.

You saw Satoru grin at the picture, but it was contradictory to what you were feeling. He had let go of your arm, but not by relaxing his hand--you felt him, as if brick by brick, build that invisible wall right back up between you, seemingly stronger than ever. You could still feel it, even as he walked away towards the trio, tying his blindfold back on. Sighing, you sat back down and watched him make snow angels with the others, his head blending right in with the scene as he drowned himself in the blinding whiteness. With his blindfold now fully on, you could only imagine what it was like when he smiled with his eyes.

***

"I can't feel my toes."

Twirling her brown hair between her fingers, Shoko spun around in her chair to face the doorway.

She darted her eyes between you and Satoru for a second before a calm, amused expression painted her face. Despite knowing it was his voice she heard--though it was more nasal than usual--she directed her question at you: "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I told him to wear thicker socks!" you exclaimed, your arms crossed in frustration. "But look! Show her."

Rolling his eyes behind his blindfold, Satoru pulled the fabric on his thighs, lifting the hems of his pants so that they revealed his ankles. They were barely covered by the cheap red and green striped polyester; it was the kind of thing you'd spot on sale in packs at the checkouts during Christmas season.

“So I forgot… Big deal!”

“I could fill a library with all the things you forgot,’” you complained. “I mean, what are you, a fish?”

Unfazed, Shoko chuckled. "You're telling me the strongest--the one powerful enough to rival the King of Curses--was defeated by a case of frostbite?"

The both of you responded simultaneously: "Exactly." "No!"

"I was not defeated," he insisted, earning a glare from you. "Barely a scratch. She's just being dramatic."

"I am not--"

"Is there a reason you can't heal yourself?" Shoko interrupted, now turned to Satoru.

He pointed his thumb in your direction accusingly. "She wanted to come here, not me."

"Wait," you interjected. "You can heal yourself?”

“Of course, duh.”

“Since when?"

"High school," he answered dismissively, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "See, look!"

He pointed down to his shoes--through the leather of his dress boots, you could see the movement of his wriggling toes. 

You held your hands up to hide his feet from your sight. “Ew, stop that--" you grimaced. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged, smirking smugly. "My talent should go without saying."

You sighed. “Your talent to bewilder me?”

"You know it,” he asserted proudly. "But anyways–Can I go now?"

Before you could even answer, you could sense him already moving in your peripheral vision.

"Satoru, wait--"

"If you don't believe I'm fine, I'll show you my toes," he threatened, halfway out the door.

"Satoru--!"

"Go on, catch me if you can!"

You listened, trying to grab onto him but, once again, his Infinity blocked you, making you stumble into Shoko's arms as it pushed you backwards. By the time you regained your balance and rushed into the hallway, his long strides and newly healed feet had already carried him beyond your sight.

You sighed and re-entered the room, brushing yourself off. "Do you have anything for a cold?" you asked.

"I should," Shoko replied, opening up one of her medicine cabinets. "Why, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, no, it's for him," you explained. "He's had a runny nose all week. I told him not to go out in the snow with the kids, but... You know how he is."

She hummed in acknowledgement with an understated smile, picking out a bottle of Acetaminophen capsules. Making her way over to you, she held up the container.

"I have these," she told you, but she didn't hand them to you; she just kept holding it up as she continued, "but, in my professional opinion, I don't think he has a cold."

"What do you mean?" you asked, your brow raised.

"Y/N, do you know what tomorrow is?"

"It's... the 24th."

"Mhm."

"So... Christmas Eve?"

She looked down at the floor, placing the bottle on a nearby counter and leaning back against it, getting comfortable. She stayed quiet for a moment, biting her lip in deep thought as she continued to stare at the floor with her arms crossed. But then, finally, she sighed, and reached into her coat pocket for a cigarette.

"Would you like one?" she offered, flicking the lighter at the end of the stick

"Um... No thank you..."

"Have a seat." She gestured to the metal seat against the wall.

Still thoroughly confused, you did as you were told. You felt as if your parents were about to have a stern "talk" with you--as if you had broken a vase or--arguably worse--it was time for you to understand the birds and the bees. That thought, along with the cold steel beneath you, sent chills up your body.

In an attempt to quell your anxiety, you beat her to the punch and spoke up: "You went to high school together, didn't you?"

She blew out a lengthy tangle of smoke strings. "That's right," she answered.

You shifted in your seat. "Has he always been... like this?"

"No,” she chuckled, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "He used to wear glasses."

Your eyebrows shot up as you leaned forward in shock. "Seriously?"

She reached into her coat pocket again, this time producing a small print of a photo. 

You took the glossy sheet from her hands and studied it, your mouth agape. Sure enough, there he was, on Shoko's right, smiling widely with his hair down and a pair of round sunglasses, both of them holding up peace signs. But, while Shoko's arm was clearly holding up the camera for the selfie, one of Satoru’s arms appeared to be wrapped around the shoulders of a black-haired man you didn't recognize.

Your brows furrowed at the sight. "Who's the one on the left?"

The scent of the nicotine got stronger as she took her time to ponder her answer, staring blankly into the back of the photo beneath your thumbs.

"That's Geto Suguru,” she finally told you.

You scanned his portrait meticulously. The man wore a grumpy expression with dark bags under his eyes and, contrary to the cheerful pose of the other two, he was flipping off the camera.

“Was he an upperclassman?” you asked.

She shook her head. “He was our classmate.” She gestured towards the photo with her cigarette. “We were all second-years there.”

“No way…” Holding the photo closer, you could have sworn you saw the outline of ear gauges behind Shoko’s head. “He looks so much older.”

You returned the photo to her and she slipped it back in her pocket, not taking even a glance at it as she did. She just spoke plainly: “He’s Satoru’s best friend.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Really? I wonder why I haven’t heard of him, then."

She took another puff, turning her face away from you as she let it out. “Tomorrow is his death anniversary.”

Your eyes widened before falling to the floor. “Oh… I see…”

You fell into a solemn trance, not knowing what you should or shouldn’t say and, consequently, opting to stay quiet out of respect. But, suddenly, you were interrupted by the sound of light laughter. 

“Even if he were still with us, I doubt you would’ve been able to tell. They bickered so much you’d think they hated each other.”

She walked around to the other side of the counter, leaning forward on it as she rested her hand on her palm.

“Who could get to class faster… Who could shoot more hoops in a minute… Who could make a bigger crater in the courtyard…”

You tried to imagine the pair wreaking havoc on an older version of the Jujutsu Tech Campus, but while it was easy to fit Satoru’s cheeky grin into all of these scenarios, it was hard to see such a mature-looking person as Geto doing these childish things.

“Ah, but you know, Y/N,” she started, looking up at you with a smile. “I think you would have been able to tell that Suguru was actually younger.”

“What?” you gasped, surprised at both the fact that he was younger and that Shoko thought that would be clear to you. “There’s no way…”

“Well, for starters, Suguru is shorter, if you put them side-by-side,” she argued. “And… Hm…”

She stopped to contemplate how to put together her next sentence–or if she should even do so at all. But in the end, she brought her cigarette back to her lips and exhaled: “I think you would have agreed with me that he’s the more immature one.”

Your brows furrowed as you scoffed in disbelief. “That's impossible… Satoru could be ten-feet tall and not a single thing on this planet could make him seem more mature than another person.”

She chuckled, though you could sense a sadness behind the sound, and you realized that your comment might’ve come off as insensitive. Clearing your throat, awkwardly, you granted her the floor: “What makes you say that?”

She took another inhale and sighed out a long cloud. Looking out the window of her office, she saw the faint glow of the multicolored lights that decorated it on the outside. She took in the sight for a quiet moment before sinking into her swivel chair, puffing once more.

“I still don’t know much about his childhood,” she began. “I never asked, and I never got to meet his parents. But I can tell you for certain that Suguru was the sort of kid who threw a tantrum when he didn’t get what he wanted for Christmas.

“I’m sure he had wishlists a mile long, but he wouldn’t be the kind to write even a single letter about it to Santa. Of course, that’d make it difficult for his family, and maybe they could've tried harder to figure it out–but he just wouldn't understand why what he wanted wasn't obvious to everyone.

“I can imagine one day someone told him the truth about Santa, and he was probably absolutely devastated. But, to him, it wouldn't be about the presents. It would be about the people around him: his mom, his dad, his teachers, his neighbors, everyone–the people who had been deceiving him his whole life.

“I don't think he ever forgave anyone for that, all the way up until he found himself as a seventeen-year-old at Jujutsu High.”

The air became thick–suffocatingly so–and your spine no longer fit right against the back of the bench.

“What exactly… did he do?” 

She rolled her chair towards her desk and put out her cigarette, pushing and twisting it into the ashtray by her desk calendar.

“In a single night, he killed one hundred and twelve civilians–non-sorcerers–including his parents. He wanted to create a world where only sorcerers exist.”

“O-oh my God…” Your hand rose up to cover your gaping mouth. “Wh.. Why?!”

“By killing non-sorcerers, you stop curses from the source.”

“But you can't just–” You cut yourself off, thousands of words rushing and racing to your mouth. “Didn't anyone try to stop him?”

“Maybe Satoru could've. If Suguru decided to tell him, that is.”

Your face was wound up in concern. “That's horrible…”

“I know, right?” she casually agreed.  “To want to be understood, but never willing to understand… Isn't it childish?” She even laughed. “Though, I suppose he was just a kid.”

“Just a kid?!” You stuck your head out in disbelief. “No, no… Satoru is childish. But that–that’s… inhumane!

You pointed to the door. “Satoru was a kid.”

You pointed to her. “You were a kid.”

Lowering your hand, you scrunched the hem of your shirt. “I might not have known you then, but I know you never would have done that.”

“To be fair, I'm not the strongest,” she defended plainly. “I'm just a doctor.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepened as you threw your arms up. “Okay–then Satoru! Satoru would never do something like that! And he… he's still a kid!”

“Satoru killed his best friend–his one and only.” She clasped her hands together on her desk. “A kid wouldn't do that, would they?”

You froze at the edge of your seat, blinking rapidly as you pieced together the puzzle.

“He… killed…?” you trailed off.

Shoko stared grimly at her hands as she tightened her grip on herself. “A kid wouldn’t have understood.”

You bore your eyes into her, waiting, begging for her to continue, to elaborate, to make it make sense, but she just stayed quiet, kept to herself.

You directed your eyes to the freshly polished floor tiles. As you stared into the blurry reflection of yourself, you tried imagining it again: Satoru, tall and white haired, and this kid grumpy little kid he called Suguru, wreaking havoc on the old campus of Jujutsu High: walking to class together, dribbling a basketball between each other, meeting up in the courtyard with one another.

 “That…” you began hesitantly. “That still doesn't excuse what happened.”

Shoko looked up at you, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and though she wasn’t as contented as she had been before your conversation, her expression was no longer grave; she seemed satisfied. Slowly, she put her palms on her desk and pushed herself up from her seat.

“To answer your question from earlier–properly,” she started, making her way over to you. “I think that Satoru has always been that way–the way Gojo Satoru has to be.”

“But if there were ever a time that he weren’t,” she interjected, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.

“It would have been thanks to him.”

***

Your footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, stopping every once in a while to slide open one of the stiff doors only to struggle to shut it a moment later. You increased the reach of your steps, and the thump of your shoes against the wood planks competed with the hooting owl perched on the snow covered roof.

Suddenly, you heard a new noise: a honking, like that of a goose, coming from the end of the hall and slightly to the left. Now picking up to a jog, you made a beeline for the door and jerked it open.

“Well, if it isn’t my long-awaited Christmas present!” he exclaimed. “Looks like Santa’s early this year.”

He rested against the corner of one of the student’s desks, already facing you with his hands in his pocket. From behind him, you could just barely see the white crumpled-up balls of tissue that scattered the surface.

“I guess some people do gifts on Christmas Eve though, right?” he considered, putting a finger to his chin. “But, ah… choosing gifts is so hard. I need all the time I can get.”

He didn’t acknowledge your entrance at all; his Six Eyes had seen it coming miles away, allowing him enough time to get into position to pick up wherever you’d last left off. You didn’t acknowledge him either, keeping a stone face as you stepped into the room.

“What’s with the face, hm? Did you not like your presents?”

“Satoru,” you said sternly.

“Did you ask Santa for anything this year?” he went on, continuing to pay you no mind.

You sighed. You couldn’t help but let the ends of your lips pick up, but you kept your eyes down at the dirtied pattern of the floor.

“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” you admit.

“What? Why not?” he questioned astonishedly, forming a pout. “Does that mean you didn’t get me a present?”

You shook your head lightly, making your way over to him. “I’ve always thought it was sort of weird. To celebrate the birth of a martyr.”

“Hm,” he sounded. “Well that’s no fun.”

Planting his hands on the surface, he hoisted himself up onto his desk. “Santa probably wouldn’t give anything other than coal to a non-believer,” he noted. “But since I’m so nice, I’ll get you something. Just tell me–what is it that you want for Christmas?”

His smile stayed in place as you darted your pupils around his visage, your own face beginning to fall. You took slow steps towards the desk next to him, getting as close as you could before you felt his Infinity push back

“Satoru, can you do me a favor?” you requested gently.

“Depends on what the favor is,” he chirped back.

Reaching your hand out, you traced your forefinger on the edge of the invisible barrier before applying pressure into it, testing the shield’s strength. You pushed with all your might, but all it did was whiten your finger tip and make your knuckles concave.

You retracted, looking back into his eyes. “Can you take it down?”

You could see the movement of his eyebrows raising beneath his blindfold. “You tryna kill me?”

Again, you shook your head, still solemn. 

He crossed his arms and squinted at you, biting his cheek. Leaning back, he put his weight onto his hands behind him, loosely grabbing the edge of his desk, his expression becoming relaxed. “Alright. Here you go.”

You took another small step into the newfound space until you were only inches apart. Slowly, you extended both your hands towards his face, but then suddenly reeled them back into a hesitant fist in disbelief, the lack of resistance uncomfortably foreign.

You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled the air shakily through your mouth, trying hard to slow the rapid beating in your chest. Ignoring the smirk on his face, you tried to reach out to him, one final time.

Letting your arms wrap around his head, your hands searched his silky hair for the knot that held up his eye covering. When you finally felt the bump, you took your time digging your nails into where the fabric held onto itself, carefully pulling apart its loops.

As the blindfold fell to his neckline, his signature grin stayed plastered on his face, but just about every other feature of his seemed to change completely when the white wisps came down to frame them. His azure eyes, for example, glimmered under the faint moonlight coming through the window, but not in the way that they usually did. They were shining like lacquer, but it was as if, from underneath that, their batteries had been taken out. In their dullness, you could see the reflection of the long white lashes resting on the eyelids above, forming sharp, unnatural shapes as they clumped together unevenly. Pink waterlines painted the bottom of his irises, and a faint red was seemingly airbrushed around the surrounding puffy skin.

You trailed your hands down the back of his head until they cupped his jawline, holding his face as you explored its entirety. Moving from his eyes to his flushed, leaking nose, his smirk grew when your gaze landed on his lips.

“Are you sure you want to use your gift on this?” he teased. “Kind of a waste, in my opinion–you could’ve just found a mistletoe.”

“Satoru.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to stop smiling.”

For a moment, he listened to you: his mouth fell open, but then it fell back into its previous position as he flashed his teeth at you. “My bad. I didn’t mean to blind you.”

“Please?”

He kept still while your thumb gently stroked his powder-smooth cheek. He jolted slightly as his lungs forced out a nervous chuckle, but he trailed off as your touch continued on him. Realizing your relentlessness, he sucked in his lips and clamped them together with his teeth as if he was trying to stop any further laughter.

He stayed like this for a moment, waiting for you to let go, but your tender movements showed no signs of stopping–you only slowed down when your eyes flitted up to meet his. He tried his best to return your stare, but eventually, he accepted defeat in the contest. And so, little by little, he let his lips roll out and the muscles to dispose into a resting state.

His voice became low, a near whisper. “Is… everything okay?”

Finally removing your hands from him, you nodded. Returning them to yourself, you glided one into the back pocket of your pants.

Taking a step back, you held up the sheet of glossy photo paper side-by-side with his face. You could name a number of differences: the neckline of the teacher’s uniform was looser and higher, his bangs now were longer and a bit thicker, and, of course, he wasn’t wearing glasses, and he wasn’t smiling. But, somehow, now more than ever, you could see the resemblance.

“What have you got there?”

Moving towards him again, you handed him the photo. It felt strange, witnessing the rare sight of his pupils’ every rapid move. And in addition to that, ever so slightly, you could see his swollen under eyes rise as the softest of smiles pushed up his cheeks. It was nothing like the sickeningly-sweet beamings you were used to seeing from him, though; it was subdued, raw like the cacao in dark chocolate, undiluted by sugar or milk.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, incredulous.

“Like you said, Santa came early,” you joked mildly.

“No, really,” he persisted, his tone reaching a bass you’d never heard from him before. “Where did you get this?”

You sat yourself on the desk next to him. “Shoko,” you admitted.

“What did she tell you?”

Your shrug was subtle.  “As much as she could.”

He continued to scrutinize the photo in his hands, his brows drawing together.

“Satoru,” you proceeded, hushed. “If it’s okay… I’d like it if you told me about it.”

He lowered the photo so that it no longer obstructed his view of you, but he didn’t take advantage of the space he gave himself; he kept staring at the photo as he spoke: “There’s not much to tell about. I was the strongest then and I’m the strongest now.”

You rested your hands on your lap and exhaled deeply. “That’s not what I mean,” you contested. 

It was as if he couldn’t hear you, continuing to stare vapidly into the photo as if somehow your sentence didn’t make it to his ears. But that was impossible; you’d said what you said, and the room was dead silent.

“I… I want you to tell me about him,” you clarified.

He shifted in his seat, finally looking away from the photo and up at you. “You mean… Geto Suguru?” he asked, as if there were any other ‘him’ in that photo. 

“Well… he’s the worst of all curse users,” he offered. He then shoved the photo back in your direction, a sudden grin straining itself on his face. “But it’s okay. He’s gone now.”

Ignoring his move, you asked, “Is it really okay?”

“I made sure of it,” he affirmed, impatiently nudging the paper at you.

He resumed his usual playful lilt. “Are you doubting me?” he tested.

“I don’t doubt you for a second–not in that sense. You’ve always been strong,” you reassured him. “But that’s exactly why I doubt you know how to be weak.”

He scoffed. “You think Gojo Satoru would know how to be weak?”

“No, I don’t. That’s my whole point,” you upheld firmly.

He folded his arms across his chest, his mocking tone sharpening: “Why would anyone want to know how to be weak?”

“Because even Gojo Satoru needs to realize he can’t just smile and laugh all the time,” you challenged, feeling heat rise up your neck.

His eyes darkened, seemingly into a navy blue, and his inflection further condescended: “There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“Satoru, how on earth am I supposed to understand?!” 

As your tone cut through, just as abruptly you pushed the desk behind you and dropped heavily to your feet.

“You’re right, I don't understand you,” you confessed frustratedly, pointing to yourself. “I don’t understand you at all. Because how could I possibly understand you? I can’t see your eyes, I can’t even get near you, and I’ve never seen you not smile.”

Your voice made gaps as your vocal cords threatened sobs. “And sure, I call you by your first name, and I laugh and I smile at all your dumb jokes and… and the idiotic games you play…

“But it’s–it’s… scary, Satoru. Creepy, even. How you know just about everything there is to know about me and yet… It's like I don’t even know who you are. You’re just a toy in the corner, watching everyone come in and out of the room, but I can never make you say or be or feel anything.”

“Feelings are what made him into who he was,” he stated coldly, his eyes fixed on the grimy floor. “It’s important for sorcerers to have a hold on their emotions.”

“So you know what happens, then,” you argued firmly, your shoes coming into his view as you stepped closer. “You know what it’s like to be shut out from them.”

You pushed his chin up, forcing him to witness the way you were holding on desperately to the tears that bordered your lower waterline.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Do you always get Sprite?” he’d asked, looking down as his friend retrieved his drink from the bottom of the machine.

“I mean… yeah, I guess,” Suguru replied plainly. “Why?”

A pit formed in his stomach as he heard the crack of the can opening.

“Shit. I’ve been getting you Coke this whole time,” he’d mumbled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Suguru shrugged, beginning to head in the direction of the classroom. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Dude, are you good?”

Suguru jolted awake, sitting up from the plush back of the couch and nearly spilling the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” he’d suggested, but Suguru just shook his head.

“I thought you liked Digimon,” Suguru objected.

“Well yeah, but…”

The only lighting came from the flashing screen, but it was enough for him to see his friend yawn, making his eyes water, dark bags underneath them.

“You can turn it up if you want,” was all Suguru had to say, but even after doing what Suguru said, he couldn’t focus on his favorite TV show.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything,” he started, reaching into his bag. “But here.”

“What’s this?” Suguru questioned.

“Your Christmas present, duh.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Suguru pointed out. “And I told you–”

“I know! But just open it.”

He watched as Suguru lifted the lid of the small gray box, revealing a small pair of white gauges.

“I didn’t really know what size to get… But I think they’d look cool on you.”

“Thanks, Satoru.”

He lit up, thinking that he’d finally done something right by his friend, but the way that Suguru looked up at him, the way Suguru smiled insincerely, told him he should’ve waited for Christmas Day.

The tears were warm as they rolled down his face, past his trembling lip and blooming into the blindfold that rested loosely around his neck.

“I just don't understand why he didn’t talk to me.”

You pulled him into a hug, carding your fingers in his hair as you rested his head on your shoulder.

“He thought I hated him,” he told you shakily, finding himself clutching onto your shirt. “I didn’t see him for ten years and… and that whole time he thought I hated him.”

He inhaled a sharp sniffle. “I… I don’t hate him,” he whimpered, his pitch jumping and his body beginning to tremble. “I don’t hate him, Y/N, I don’t, I don’t, I never, ever did.”

“I know,” you whispered, stroking his hair, holding him tighter as he jerked with sobs.

He placed his head on your shoulder, staring at the blindfold that had unraveled itself and fallen between you. “I hate myself.”

You pulled back, cupping his jawline and holding it in front of you.

“Don’t say that…”

“But he was my best friend, Y/N,” he insisted, gripping desperately onto your shoulders. “I saw him every single day… every single day, all of that was running through his head and I… I didn’t even know… I just watched and… and I made him think I hated him. I was supposed to be his best friend.”

“You did everything you could, Satoru.”

“It was all my fault.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did it happen?” he whined. “It had to have been for a reason–It can't just hurt and be for no reason. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s not,” you told him, shaking your head gently and looking deeply into his eyes. “It’s not fair at all.”

Indicating the breaking of a dam, a deafening, siren-like wail pierced the air. His face was red and scrunched up, his nose was dripping with snot, and his hands were coming up to swipe desperately at the tears on his cheeks.

You pulled him close to you again as he kept hiccuping and sniffling into the crook of your neck. His loud weeping wet your shirt with both the fluids from his eyes and nose, but you didn’t care; you just rubbed his back, caressing him tenderly.

His voice was suddenly clearer as he took deep breaths to try and recuperate himself: “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Why are you sorry?” you asked, stiffening your hold on him.

“I just… I don’t know. I hate crying. I’m not a kid anymore, you know?” he tried laughing.

“Satoru,” you whispered delicately, turning your head so your words rested right by his ear. “You were never a kid.”

Gently, you pressed his head into you, stopping him from moving his lips in any way. “I want you to be one right now.”

You let him stay in your arms for a while until his tears subsided and his breathing steadied. You had moved to the floor at some point, allowing him to comfortably lean on you as you embraced him, his previous quivering replaced now by the calm rhythm of his rising and falling figure.

He hadn’t talked in a while, so you assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then, among his mellow breathing, a mumble came up right by your ear:

“Thank you,” he’d said.

Hugging him tighter, you patted him on the back softly. “Of course.”

As one hand traveled to intertwine its fingers in his hair, you reached for your phone with your other one.

You pressed the power button on its side, and flinched backward, squinting at the brightness your phone screen emitted. Despite your sudden movement, Satoru didn’t show any sort of reaction; he’d fallen asleep, for sure now.

You continued to comb through his white locks, a little more consciously now, as you made note of the time and date your phone’s clock displayed, changing right before your eyes:

December 25th, 00:00

You smiled, dragging your coat up to cover the both of you as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

***

might do a toji x megumi's teacher reader if u wanna follow

[professionallyyappinabtangst]

Shaw Pack Flowers pt2

flowers I'd give to every member of the Shaw Pack and why part 2

Christian - Red Lilacs with a mix of matching peonies! the color red means in this case anger and passion. Christian has a lot of pent-up anger as he feels he was cheated out of becoming beta. he tends to get annoyed whenever everyone calls out his obvious relationship with Amanda. however, he is passionate about his pack. even if he can be a bit of an ass- now to the flowers! Peonies mean Compassion and Bashfulness. why? he cares about the people around him a lot! and he can get very flustered when confronted about his relationship and or gifts. Lilacs mean confidence and innocence though we're only gonna take confidence in this case. After all everyone could use a little more of that

Marie - (she can have my hand in marriage honestly) I am giving her some Roses of course!(I love her some much- I'm biased) Pink roses and some blue Chamomiles. Pink roses mean Gratitude, grace, and joy though were only taking 1 of those meanings. Grace because let's be real here she had to be really patient and fast with Colm's behavior. while The color blue means calm, trust, and intelligence though we only takin 2 of those Calm and intelligent. She had to be smart in dealing with Colm's gambling habit while also being calm enough to raise their son. Chamomiles mean patience and wealth. do I really need to explain that?

Arden - the resident troublemaker! I'm giving her some Orange Hyacinths! The color orange in this case means Creativity, youth, and enthusiasm. arden is one of the younger wolf-shifters in the pack! with her creative ways of picking on Chrissy! She just wants to have some fun you know? that being said Hyacinths mean Playfulness ad constancy. yes shes is playful and sometimes disrespectful- she's constant with it at least (IM JOKING IM JOKING! She is an amazing team player. )

Amanda - honestly I don't know much about Amanda however- from what I've heard about her I think I'm going to give her some Peach roses. Why? well, peach roses mean Sincerity, gratitude, and sympathy. her relationship with Christan shows how much she loves and cares for him. while after the inversion she wanted him to come with her back to her parents. She wanted to show her gratitude by living a safe life with Christan. the sincerity of not having to be hidden anymore. but earning her sympathy when declined. She understood.. (pink roses would also suit her)

Gabe - I could just make a meme here and give him some black roses and say it means death (which is one of their many meanings) but I'm not going to do that.. I would give him forget-me-nots and delphiniums. whenever David talks about his dad it's always mentioned just how of a big heart he had. and how playful he could be at times. and guess what just happens to mean Big-hearted? Delphiniums! Gabe has so many good memories that the pack still talks about to this day. and true love.. something Gabe had and then lost. But now they get to see the man their son has grown to be together.

Colm - Black and White roses.. in the case of Colm, he let his work ruin him. and well.. he found an outlet. it wasn't a healthy one. and all he can hope now is to fix what he broke. even if it's too late. Black roses can mean a lot however in colms case they're going to mean Rebirth and new beginnings. White roses mean redemption and grace. I shouldn't have to explain this reasoning.

BONUS

David's Mom - Her favorite flowers were honeysuckle and they're the perfect flowers to give her. they can mean Love, devotion happiness, and new beginnings! there is doubt in my mind that this woman was a joy to be around, someone who balanced out Gabe. And someone who wanted everything for her son. She was an amazing woman. and her choice of such makes me think that even more.

and here's the part 2 I was talking about! @dawnofiight

let me know if there is any other characters you want me to do

[mysticpolin]

Ielele: the nymphs, goddesses, and fairies of the Romanian lands.

In a dream, I found myself on a mountain where the ground was strewn with tiny black flowers, like stars scattered in a sea of shadow. Each flower glowed softly, whispering different stories despite their shared roots in the same dark soil.

A melody wove through the air—so delicate, yet so profound it stirred my very soul. It was a haunting sound that made my skin crawl, a blend of beauty and fear that beckoned me to seek its source.

In a moonlit glade, women appeared. Some were naked, their skin radiant under the celestial light; others wore long, translucent gowns as if spun from moonbeams and dreams. They danced in a circle, their movements a poetic dance of shadows and light, blurring the lines between the real and the imagined.

It is said that in the middle of the night, when the moon opens the door to the land of dreams, Ielele gather in hidden and mysterious places—deep in ancient forests, in moonlit meadows, by serene ponds, among clusters of conifers, along riverbanks, at crossroads, in abandoned houses, or even in the air itself.

There, they dance naked, in long white dresses, or sometimes wrapped in delicate veils that seem to be made of light and mystery, with tiny bells on their feet that ring with each graceful step they take. They stretch out their arms in a silent ritual, bringing with them a fleeting magic, a call wrapped in otherworldly melodies that fade into the night. The roots of old trees and the murmur of streams seem to witness their sacred dance, leaving behind a ring of scorched grass—a sign of their joy and their sorrow.

At times, Ielele appear only as fleeting shadows, vague, ghostly figures that flit through the air, or as passing visions full of joy and light. They are beautiful and enchanting but always out of reach, a forbidden dream that vanishes at dawn, leaving only the echo of their music and the memory of a magical night. In these moments, reality blends with fantasy, and the stillness of the place that was once a magical dance floor is filled with a mysterious sadness, like a secret known only to the moon and the Iele.

Usually, Ielele are not considered evil spirits. They only seek revenge when they're provoked, offended, or seen during their dance. In these cases, they punish the guilty by cursing them after putting them to sleep with their song and the whirl of their dance performed around them three times. In this way, they are similar to the Erinyes from Greek mythology.

Some incantations portray them as follows:

Voi Ielelor “You, Ielelor”

Măiestrelor “Masters of the Craft”

Dușmane oamenilor “Enemies of Humankind”

Stăpânele vântului “Mistresses of the Wind”

Doamnele pământului “Ladies of the Earth”

Că prin văzduh zburați “As you fly through the Air”

Pe iarbă lunecați “Gliding over the Grass”

Și pe valuri călcați “And treading on the Waves”

Vă duceți în locuri depărtate “You travel to Distant Places”

În baltă, trestie, pustietate “To Marshes, Reeds, and Wastelands”

Unde popă nu toacă “Where no Priest Sounds the Bell”

Unde fată nu joacă “Where no Maiden Dances”

Vă duceți în gura vântului “You go to the Mouth of the Wind”

Să vă loviți de toarta pământului. “To Clash against the Earth’s Edge.”

If you want to hear a modern version of this incantation, check out the song “Ielele” by Irina Rimes. It’s a beautiful blend of traditional and contemporary music, and I really enjoyed it.

There is so much more to discover about the Iele, so if you’re intrigued by this story, make sure to Google them and dive deeper into their myths and legends.

Thanks for exploring the world of the Iele with me. I hope you enjoyed learning about these mystical beings. Until next time, may your dreams be full of magic and wonder.

[trulycertain]

Raspberries

This actually takes place sometime after the Underdark. Don't even ask how weird my playthrough order was. Tav/Astarion, about 700 words.

They're a quarter-mile out from the monastery when the call goes up. "Raspberries!" Karlach says, and barrels towards the unsuspecting bush.

Lora lands more in a rapid saunter. She'd like to say she keeps her dignity intact, but by the end, she and Karlach are both red-fingered - more than usual, in Karlach's case - with any of the paint Lora put on her lips this morning long gone, the two of them giggling about flambéd raspberries. ("How do they still taste good after I've got to 'em?" Karlach says, licking heat-exploded fruit off her thumb.) Well, Karlach's giggling. Lora's is more of a cackle. A couple of raspberries quietly pluck themselves from the bush and float through the air to Gale, who gives her a wry, you-caught-me look as he bites into his finds. And Astarion... she expected complaint, and there is a mutter of "I refuse. A passing Death Shepherd might see us," but he seems too glad of a rest to get into full flow. He leans against the trunk of a tree, watching, in a way that invites trite panther metaphors.

Lora's the last to leave, relieved for a moment of quiet, easy joy. Karlach can seem to keep on going forever, can seem to find the hope in anything - might be the engine, but more likely it's just how she is - and Gale is often wry, as relaxed as Lora is but in that way where you're hiding pain. She knows it too well. After a day avoiding traps and lying with her life on the line, something little and stupid and joyous like raspberries might just, for a second, have been the answer to her prayers.

And there's a vampire loitering next to her, a brow raised in a way that's not his usual idle I'm above all this and could be at home enjoying a nice glass of vintage blood, I mean wine. Amusement is creeping in round the edges, the genuine kind rather than the teeth-bared one he so often resorts to. The little creases around his eyes are appearing - the ones that almost make him look like less of an insufferable toff.

"What?" Lora says, and then realises. "Shit. I've missed some, haven't I?" She raises a vague hand to her face, probably without much luck.

"You almost look like one of mine." But there's no sharp edge or hidden dagger in it, just amused... she'd almost call it fondness, if they weren't them. Perhaps a little melancholy mixed in, somewhere deep.

And then there's a pale, half-gloved hand under her chin, tilting her face gently down to him. Astarion's thumb strokes at the corner of her mouth, runs over her lower lip - a moment, soft as a feather, his eyes lingering on her mouth just a little longer than necessary. Her breath catches, stupidly; at that his eyes flick to hers, and a smile tugs at his lips. With the arrogant victory of their first bad decision, and their second, a predatory flash - but she swears for a second there's something... gentler. Truer, maybe, though she's not sure if he does that. And the arrogance is all him, too. But this... It's the thing she sees when he saves her from a dagger in the back, just for the barest moment, or when she lays down to sleep close to him by the fire and there's his confused half-second's hesitation at such ignorant trust. It makes him, somehow, for a half-breath under a shadowed oak tree, handsomer than she's ever seen him.

...Probably just Lora trying to give him more credit than he's due. He'd say as much. She's always had a good imagination.

"There," Astarion says airily, and rubs dark pink between his fingers. He makes a vague gesture to her mouth. "Though I assume you know - whatever paint you wear fled at the beginning of your little diversion."

Just over the rise, Karlach is guffawing, and Gale is saying, "No, I did not mean that Netherese wizards set their trousers aflame, though honestly, that whole regrettable chapter of history might have been much shorter if they had."

"Oh, damn," Lora says, and wipes at her mouth absentmindedly. "Come on."

Just like that, whatever softness was in him is gone, shut behind that idle-toff self-assuredness. They jog to join the others, and she tries to look less like they've been doing... something they absolutely haven't been doing. And that would be a terrible idea, anyway. Astarion's smug enough as it is. He probably doesn't even want -

A very fun bad idea. A one-off. Well, two-off. Absolutely.

[plushie-lovey]

Do you have any advice on going through and deciding which plushies to keep and which to give away? I have a large collection from my childhood I need to go through and it seems so daunting !

Absolutely! I've got a few tips to give, but it's gonna require a long explanation, so I'm throwing it under a read more. Hope this advice is helpful!!

Firstly you need to consider how much space you have, and determin what you want your collection to be like. Do you only want stuffies of a certain color, or only want to keep specific species? What size plush works best with the space you have? Any brands you don't care for anymore? Are you only looking to keep plushies you'll actually touch and play with? Once you've sorted thru all those factors, you can move on to the next step.

Take a look at what you have in your collection. Don't just take a quick glance either, really study the plushies as you go thru them. Think to yourself, as you look at each; "Do they spark joy? When I look at them, is it as if I'm seeing them for the first time all over again? Would I be sad to not have this stuffed animal anymore?" Once you've considered all the points above, it should make it easier to pick and choose what plushies to keep. Take your time with this process as well, especially since you said you have a large amount of plush. You might get burnt out easily on decision making if you try to go thru them all in one sitting.

If you're struggling with choosing tho (like I have been) then it's time to take up a new perspective. Imagine that all of your stuffed animals were destroyed in a fire. Think about which plushies you'd be most devastated to lose, and which you wouldn't really care about being gone. The ones you'd miss the most are keepers, the rest can be sent off to new homes.

If you have a hard time visualizing this, then putting the plushies you're on the fence about away for a while is a great way to help with a final decision. (I'd suggest storing them for a month or more). Make sure its somewhere you can't see them or easily get to them. That way, you can determine the importance of the plushie's presence in your space. If you're often thinking about certain stuffed animals, even when you can't see or touch them, that's a sign you still have enough of a connection to keep them. It's ok to think about many plushies while they're hidden away. It's also alright to not think about any at all. Eventually you should take those plushies out and go thru the pile again. When you look at them, if it feels like it didn't matter that they weren't around anymore, then you can let them go.

Hoping all of this makes sense. Please feel free to send more asks for better explanations or clarifications tho! Happy plushie sorting, and good luck!!

[silverynight]

Underworld

<---Previous

Part XI

Mina knows she'll be fine, it's just another little visit to the mortal world; she's done that before and she can do it again.

However, she's still as careful as she can; the mortals sometimes are curious and she doesn't want her presence to be noticed, at least not yet.

She just wants to see Midoriya from afar.

The book feels heavy in her hands and she knows the little kids are wandering lost down there, but Mina needs to know, she must find out if there's hope for her explosive boss.

And then she sees him; Midoriya is taking care of his field, making things grow and work as they used to be, bringing life as he's supposed to do. The clothes he's wearing are different from what he was wearing in the Underworld, but they're also really pretty.

He's smiling and for a moment Mina hesitates, she wonders if this is the right thing to do. Perhaps Midoriya is happier and safer here; it's true that he helped a lot of people on the other side, but that doesn't mean he's destined to be there...

And yet Bakugo is very much in love with him and misses him to the point it physically hurts him.

She takes a step back, but it's too late: Midoriya has spotted her and now he's practically running towards her with a beautiful smile on his face.

Suddenly he pulls her into his arms and lifts her from the ground for a couple of seconds. Mina melts into the hug and realizes that even though she's worried about Bakugo, she also missed Midoriya herself.

They're friends.

"Tell me," Midoriya mumbles, cheeks turning slightly pink as he speaks: "How is he?"

Mina has to hold back a smile, because just at that moment she realizes that there's hope for the God of the dead after all.

"Well... He's grumpy, but when is he not?" She says and even though that makes Midoriya smile a little, the joy doesn't reach his pretty eyes. "He... misses you quite a lot and feels bad about what he did."

Midoriya looks away right before wiping a couple of tears off his eyes.

"I miss him too, I miss everyone," he whispers. "But I... Maybe this is where I'm supposed to be. I'm not dead yet after all."

It's so obvious that he wants to go back that Mina is tempted to encourage him... But, at the same time, she knows that he likes the mortal world as well; he helps a lot of people here.

"What about you and the others? What about Dynamight?"

Mina is hesitat to tell him the truth, but she also knows she can't hide anything from him either, because she did that once and he doesn't deserve that again.

She wants to do things the right way this time so she tells him the truth.

"Poor Dynamight!" Midoriya laments. "Oh please tell Kirishima and Kaminari to leave him in my... in that room if they can..."

Mina nods, knowing she'll have to talk with them in secret because... Bakugo will surely explode if he finds out.

"Okay... But I can't promise anything."

"What about the souls?"

Mina sighs, but shows him the three names in her book.

"Children?"

"Yes."

She can tell it hurts Midoriya and that he's tempted to go back, but he's struggling as well. It seems he's having an internal battle with himself because he shakes his head after a couple of seconds before making appear three beautiful flower crowns.

"Give them these and tell them they'll be fine," Midoriya whispers, wiping another couple of tears off his face.

Mina nods even though she doesn't know if it's going to work.

"I remember you."

The voice startles her, but fortunately she's already taken the crowns and hidden them before the god appeared.

Todoroki Shoto, the powerful and talented son of one of the most important gods. He immediately stands in between Midoriya and her as if he's trying to shield him.

Mina tries not to feel offended.

"You payed him a visit last time," Todoroki continues, glaring at her. "Right before he disappeared."

That young god is not only powerful but smart as well, which is very unfortunate for her.

"That doesn't make her responsible for what happened!" Midoriya protests, although he pouts, before taking one of Todoroki's hand in his.

"But maybe she knows..."

"Hey, Shoto," Midoriya cuts him off, but he's very sweet and gentle when he does, he even cradles the god's face in his hands and as Mina predicts, he melts right into the touch. "I told you that wasn't going to happen again, remember? I'm not going anywhere..."

Maybe Bakugo doesn't have that much hope after all...

Although Mina refuses to believe that.

"Besides, she has a lot of things to do..." Midoriya gives her a look and she understands immediately that it's better for her to go.

It's more than obvious that Midoriya hasn't told his friend, perhaps none of them, what happened, at least not all of it.

He pulls Todoroki into his arms and although the god returns his embrace softly, it looks like (for a moment) he'd do anything to keep hugging Midoriya forever.

Todoroki glares at her over Midoriya's freckled shoulder and Mina knows that he's making connections in his mind... He knows something and he is not going to let it go.

Which means she's in trouble.

***

Todoroki stays with him for a while, he seems to have relaxed a bit, especially after Izuku sits under a tree and allows his friend to lie down next to him and use his lap as a pillow.

He doesn't bring Ashido up again, but Izuku is still worried about what happened.

"Do you like this place, Izuku?" He asks suddenly, staring up at him as the green haired demigod runs his fingers through his mismatched hair.

"Of course I do!" Izuku chuckles as he points around him. "This is my field and I'm very proud of it!"

"No, I mean..." Todoroki takes his hand, surprising Izuku a bit and making him turn red when he presses a kiss to his palm. "I mean the mortal world."

For some reason the sentence makes him nervous, he feels like it's a trick or something like that. Part of him is tempted to tell him all about the underworld and the things he saw there that Izuku loved... But then he would have to tell him about what happened.

And it seems like Todoroki is not ready to hear that, at least not the whole story.

"Of course I like the mortal world!" Izuku says, which is entirely true.

"Is there no other place you'd rather be?" As he says this, Todoroki intertwines their fingers together, he's very gentle, but for a moment Izuku has the feeling that his friend is afraid to let go of him.

"No," he mumbles, but this time he lies.

"I'm glad," Todoroki smiles, before rising into to a sitting position again. He wraps his arms around Izuku and pulls him closer to his chest before kissing the other's cheek. "It's... I'm scared of losing you again."

"You won't. I told you I'm not going anywhere."

"I know."

Instead of keeping him company for a couple of hours, Todoroki stays the whole day with him in the field and even walks him home when it's dark again.

He kisses Izuku's forehead as a goodbye.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he says before shaking his head. "Well, I have something to take care of first, but I hope it doesn't take me long."

Even though his friend is smiling, Izuku suddenly has a bad feeling...

***

It's not the same without Midoriya around, but the flower crowns do cheer the little kids up a bit. Mina even finds herself chuckling when later that day Kirishima and Kaminari get excited about the messages Midoriya sent them.

And then Bakugo rushes inside the castle and steps right front of her like a desperate man or desperate god, if she wants to be more accurate about it...

"Is Izuku back? Is he here?"

Mina blinks a few times, confused, but then–

"I saw a couple of children with flower crowns... New ones."

"I'm sorry... I–I payed him a visit. He gave me the flowers for them."

Instead of getting angry, like he would years ago, Bakugo nods, almost devastated; his shoulders fall and it's obvious that he misses Midoriya more than anything.

"Is he alright?"

"Yes."

Mina can tell Bakugo is aching to ask more, to ask if Midoriya said something about him... If he misses him, but he shakes his head slightly and turns around to go back to work.

It's heartbreaking.

Which is why she decides not to worry him even more, although she has the feeling that she should mention about what happened with Todoroki, because it seems like it could be a problem.

She just hopes she's wrong.

***

Next--->

Patreon

[moonlight-prose]

THE LAST OF US MASTERLIST

a/n: below you can find all the works that i have created for the show/game the last of us! they're all on this post, but in the future some of the characters might get their own masterlist post.

Under no circumstances may you steal my work, say it’s yours, or post it somewhere else. The writings I put on here are mine unless stated otherwise.

smut =🔥| angst =💫 | fluff =🌙

JOEL MILLER

Hurt (series) | 18+🔥| ONGOING

Summary: Alone and trying to survive, you find your path crossing with a man who’s headed to Boston of all places. He claims he’s looking for a new start, not realizing you might be it.

Pale Rider |💫

Summary: Grief was a noose and he did what he could to loosen it before he lost you too.

From Eden, Love Grows | 18+🔥| dedicated to: @/saradika

Summary: Days spent in flower fields and cooking in a sunbathed kitchen with him.

Marks Of The Damned | 18+🔥

Summary: His scars were his secrets, his pain he never shared.

The Wasteland Of A Bleeding Heart |💫

Summary: Joel’s fears began to interfere.

View From The Bridge |💫

Summary: The past was off limits, but at what cost?

Warm Glow | 18+🔥| dedicated to: @/sunflowersteves

Summary: His love felt as warm as the afternoon sun.

More and More | 18+🔥

Summary: “He wanted to know every part of you, everything you kept hidden for fear of it being rejected. And you let him.”

Be Still My Foolish Heart |🌙

Summary: “Yet somehow—despite you never realizing it—Joel always ended up with you.”

A Poison That Never Stung | 18+🔥| UPCOMING

Way Down We Go | 18+🔥| UPCOMING

Blackthorn Tree | 💫

Summary: You needed to protect him as much as he needed to protect you. The only problem was…Joel believed he didn’t need caring for. He didn’t need protecting.

Thrills | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “He sought you out in the darkness of your shared home and found what he knew would keep him from dipping beneath the surface again. And you let him.”

Safe Haven | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “Being with Joel felt like breathing. As if you’d stepped outside for the first time in eons, soaking in the fresh air that emanated from the trees. It was clear. A constant fixated piece of nature that you knew would never fade.”

Sweet Words of Sin | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “There was a certain high that came from this. Having a man like joel miller relenting to your every word, all to hear those sweet words fall from your lips. As delicious as a glass of wine and just as sinful.”

Sweetened Breath and Tongue So Mean | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “Joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. a man bloodied with the ravages of life. He’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. But you were soft. You were the good that remained. The light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish.”

TOMMY MILLER

It Will Come Back | 18+🔥

Summary: Mornings in the kitchen with him made life worthwhile.

Last Night On Earth | 18+🔥| UPCOMING

Dreadful Need | 18+🔥

Summary: “You wanted to see his smile fade as the realization struck him that he would have to work for it tonight.”

Falling |🌙

Summary: “A fleeting moment of you being tugged forward and wrapped into the safety of his arms. It ignited something in you. caused your heart to quicken its pace whenever he was around—reminding you of what he felt like so close.”

Lover Be Good To Me | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “How you managed to be the lucky winner in this draw called life, you’d never know. Tommy was kind, good to you in a way no other person ever had been before.”

Wretched and Joyful | 18+🔥| Kinktober 2023

Summary: “He would be your end and all that came next. He’d be your consequence in a world that sought out punishment rather than forgiveness. Your small slice of joy in the wretched ways of reality.”

How Stars Shine in Darkness | 💫

Summary: In darkness stars shine. In pain…your love glows. And when all hope feels lost, Tommy Miller thinks of you.

The Breaking of Glass | 💫

Summary: You could remember his smile most of all. How it shone brighter than the sun on most days. How his curls nearly always fell into his eyes. But most of all…you remembered how he loved you.

First Light (series) | 18+🔥| COMING SOON

Summary: Tommy Miller never thought he would end up alone. Not when he had family behind him - a life that wasn't perfect, but good enough. Yet there he was, kneeling on the cold forest floor - bloodied and bruised - asking to die. Until light streams through the trees, and he sees you.

[danger-xylophones]

Hi! I think your requests are open but if they're not feel free to delete this <3 I was wondering if you'd maybe write something for Elrond x Glorfindel's daughter (or gn child, whichever u prefer)? As in a kid he had before he died. I honestly think it would be kinda funny if your dad got resurrected and then swore himself to your partner out of obligation to his deceased ancestors without realizing he was dating his kid lmao 😭 could probably also be an angsty plot if that's what u were in the mood for ngl. Again if not no pressure, love you and all your future works regardless!

Yesssss, yessssss,yesssss, I love Glorfindel and Elrond so much omlllllll

And the potential awkwardness???? yesssssssssssssssssss

Warnings (in order of appearance): mentions of children, mentions of death, slight gore, seeing a dead body, death, grief, fainting, pet names, nicknames, reader referred to as 'lady', age gap (everyone’s an elf though so perspective?)

I reference events in ROP but am sticking with Tolkien canon

masterlist | elves

For all the troubles of middle-earth, Imladris is truly a safe haven even though it is so young in the eyes of the realm. The hidden valley is dotted with small cottages nestled amongst the still young waterfalls freshly sprung from the earth. Greenery thrives like flowing blood both dividing and connecting the small dwelling places that have been erected to shelter both scholars and warriors alike. And a few weary travelers as per your love's, Elrond's, wish.

"Once this present darkness which scorns our land has been swept away once more, I wish for our home to be a home to all, meleth nin." He had whispered in your ear one night not long after you'd first arrived in the land now given to him to lord over by the High-King. "A home for not just our kin or our future children," you'd laughed at that - not because it was amusing but because the thought brought a joy so profound you did not know of another way to express it, "the thought amuses you?" You could hear the teasing grin in his voice as he squeezed you closer, nose tucked into the joining place of your jaw and neck.

"No, no, heru nin-" you'd laughed a little more, now at the ticklish feeling of his breath on your neck, "I laugh because I am happy." You hummed, a hand cradling his head - fingers tapping at the silver circlet that now permanently adorned his brow. "I also hope that this place can be home for our children when they arrive." You leaned back into him, delighting in Elrond's ever present warmth.

Elrond squeezed your waist tighter and lifted his face from your neck only to rest his chin on your shoulder so that he could stare out over the valley too. "I wish Durin could have seen this." He whispered, voice so soft it might have been a passing breeze.

You held him a bit tighter, "So do I."

I wish atar could have seen this too...

The two of you fell into solemn silence, feeling the weight of your friend's passing for the first time again in a while.

"Forgive me, my lord and lady," the voice of Elrond's young assistant pulled you two from your grief. Elrond turned to him, you following as well, to face Lindir who looked distinctly uncomfortable from having to pull you apart, "but Lord Elrond, your presence has been requested."

"Oh?" He asked, taking your arm in his in preparation to follow Lindir. "By who?"

"He did not say his name," Lindir mumbled, bowing his head in embarrassment, "and he was very adamant that he speak with you - he said he was carrying a message from Lindon."

"I see," Elrond hummed, his face thoughtful as his voice carried an underlying weariness that made you hold to his arm a little tighter. He turned to you, "Meleth nin, do you wish to accompany me?"

You thought for a moment before looking to Lindir again, "Did this mystery guest specify Elrond?"

Lindir nodded, short brown hair bouncing slightly.

"Then," you began, looking back at Elrond, "I believe I will leave it to you, darling." Slipping onto your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to the young elf-lord's cheek - and didn't miss the way Lindir blushed at having witnessed the small display of affection. "Besides, I fancy a walk through the gardens."

Elrond nodded and let you slip from his arm as he turned to follow Lindir.

You watched them go, heads bowed together as Lindir presumably filled Elrond in on what the visitor had said, until they disappeared around a bend and you were left on your own with only the wind to accompany you. But, true to your word, you did not linger long and set out to indeed wander around the gardens.

Elrond had taken great care in choosing what plants were to be placed in the garden and where. Every plant served a purpose - some were edible, some medicinal, and others were there simply to make the garden more beautiful.

But he'd been careful to place any golden flowers farther away where you did not tend to go. Elrond was especially careful with the golden celandines - the flowers of your father's house. They'd been a gift to you from the High-King, meant to bring you good fortune as you and Elrond journeyed to Imladris, to the new hidden valley.

But the very sight of them brought visions of your father's cairn, of his battered body laid before you and your throat ached with age old screams of a newly orphaned child.

Elrond had hastened to take them from your sight and all but forbade anyone from displaying the celandines openly. A part of you pained to despise such an innocent thing as a flower. Your atar certainly would have been displeased.

Atar...

You wished Glorfindel could have met Elrond.

You'd once told Elrond of your father's sacrifice and how it had inadvertently led to the two of you falling in love. As it was your father's sacrifice in Gondolin that spared the life of Elrond's grandparents and, at the time, child father. Because, had it not been for Idril pulling you away from the cliff Glorfindel had fallen over, you would not have formed a friendship with Earendil and would not have had the courage to approach Elrond centuries later at a ball held in Gil Galad's honor.

And still, had it not been for the same sense of history shared between you and the young herald, you humored yourself to think you might have found yourself in the arms of the High King, as you had been quite taken with him.

But Elrond had been quite persistent in gaining your favor - you would later joke it was his Edain blood that made him bold enough to kiss you in front of the king's court. And thus, your hand had joined his with your marriage on the horizon.

Gods, when you thought back on it - your father would have been so amused by the whole thing. "Oh how the tides of fate do twist and turn, my little blossom." You could hear his clear, boisterous voice ring in your mind. "The Valar's sense of humor is hard to grasp. Why, Ecthelion could tell you stories-"

What you would give just to hear your father's laugh again.

You weren't aware you'd wandered all the way to the end of the garden until you found yourself staring down at the golden celandines. Normally, their bright visage felt like a mockery. But today, for whatever reason, they felt like a gentle hand placed on your soul. Comforting.

"My Lady!" A voice called from behind you and you turned just in time to see Lindir sprinting towards you.

"My gods, Lindir, what is the matter?" You asked reaching a hand out to steady the young ellon as he came to a screeching stop before you.

"Elrond has asked for your presence, immediately." He huffed, a little winded from presumably rushing to find you.

"Is he alright? Did something happen?" You asked, voice rising with your growing panic.

"He's fine, my lady," Lindir heaved one last sigh before rising to his full height, "but he wants you to meet the guest. He told me it was important."

“How so?” You asked, offering the young Ellon your arm so he could keep up with your hurried steps.

“He claims to be a Lord of Gondolin, a member of the house of the Golden Flower but Lord Elrond would not tell me his name.” Lindir mumbled.

The house of the golden flower? But that was your house and to your knowledge you were the only surviving member. All others had fallen during the siege of Gondolin. "My kin? How?"

"I am unsure, my lady. He told a strange story of coming from Valinor with a message for the High-King only for Gil Galad to send him here."

"Truly?" You hummed, less genuinely curious and more ponderous as you mulled over the possibilities. Atar never spoke of kin in the undying lands, you'd been under the impression that all had followed Turgon to Middle Earth. And how would they know of your family name?

The two of you walked in relative silence, your pace quick as Lindir led you back to where Elrond and this mysterious guest were waiting. The entire time, your mind was spinning, trying to come up with just who could warrant such urgency. Who could know of the fallen house of the Golden Flower?

Lindir brought you to a secluded pagoda slightly off the main path that snaked through Imladris. Ivy trains hung all around it, obscuring the two figures beneath it's steeple roof. But through the foliage you could make out the silhouette of Elrond and the shape of the visitor kneeling before him, head bowed in show of respect.

With a bow of his head, Lindir swept aside some vines allowing you to duck through the gap and enter into the hidden pagoda. Elrond's eyes met yours immediately, an emotion you couldn't identify lurking in their honeyed depths. But he smiled at least. And glanced to the person at his feet.

You followed his eyes and let your own rest upon the visage of your visitor. Through waves of flowing golden hair you could see pointed ears - so they were an elf. You quickly raked your eyes over their form, gathering in the details of their armor and sword (decidedly not the style of Lindon) . And you felt your breath hitch in recognition. That was the style of Gondolin. You hadn't seen armor such as this for ages.

The sound of your gasp brought the stranger's attention to you and they turned shining spring green eyes on you. Eyes you also hadn't seen for ages.

"Ah, you must be the lady of the valley." He spoke in a voice that shook you to your core, bringing memories of days spent chasing after pealing laughter and nights curled close as you were regaled with tales of great battles. The ghost rose to his feet and extended his hand to you. "I am Glorfindel, former lord of Gondolin."

"H-how?" You stuttered, feeling suddenly clammy and unsettled. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Elrond stride to you. "How are you here?" Warm arms surrounded you and you found yourself clinging to them as the world started to swim. Your voice sounded like cotton in your own ears. "I-you-you can't be real, I watched you fall-I-Balrog-"

"Starlight, hush, breathe," Elrond's voice was soft but his grip about your waist was strong, holding you upright. “Lindir!” He called over your head, if the young elf replied, you didn’t hear it. “Fetch some water and something easy to eat, please!” There was a pause before Elrond gently moved you, guiding you to a small seat nearby. "Easy, meleth, I'm here." He whispered as he helped you sit down. "You're alright."

"I apologize, heri nin, I..." Glorfindel began, approaching slowly with his hand outstretched as if you were a frightened horse he was trying to calm. "The High-King only informed me that descendants of the refugees from Gondolin survived, he did not warn me that any who witnessed my fall were here in Imladris." The tall, blonde elf lowered to his knees before you. "If I had known, I would have sent more warning. I can only imagine how shocking it must be to see a living ghost." A small chuckle slipped from him, tearing at long scarred over hurts in your heart and you felt tears prick your eyes.

The last time you'd seen his body, he'd been wrapped in a funerary shroud and laid to rest in his cairn. You'd planted the first celandine atop it.

The last time you'd seen his face, he'd been burned to the bone, blood coated his armor and what remained of his face, and his scalp - his characteristic golden hair - had been torn away from his skull.

The only way you'd been able to identify your atar's remains was the mark of the golden flower on his armor. You'd clung to his body, sobbed and screamed for your only kin to wake up, to come back to you. Idril and Tuor had pulled you away while Thorondor obscured the elf lord's charred remains from your sight.

For years you couldn't bear to look at paintings of him, knowing that all you would see was death staring back at you.

And now, death knelt before you looking far fairer than was justified.

"How...are...you here?" You asked, all too aware of how you trembled in Elrond's arms.

"The Valar sent me back to aid my kin in Eriador." Glorfindel answered solemnly, looking up to Elrond for a moment. "War is coming once again."

The three of you were silent.

Lindir slipped into the pagoda and set a small tray with food and water to the side before promptly exiting.

"How long do we have?" Elrond asked, finally breaking the tension.

"I am unsure. The Valar warned that Sauron's attack was imminent - he is gathering his strength and forces as we speak." He rose to his feet. "Which is why I have been sent back - to aid the Eldar however I can. I pledge myself to you, Herald Elrond, Lord of Imladris, to the bitter end. My sword is yours to command." Glorfindel bowed his head.

"Thank you, my lord." Elrond spoke softly, a hand rubbing at your shoulder. "I know I will call upon you when the time comes."

Silence fell once again like a heavy blanket over the pagoda. Glorfindel glanced at you. "I will excuse myself, if that's alright. I can tell my presence is upsetting, heri nin."

You stopped him. "Do you recognize me?"

The lord's attention snapped to you and his head tilted in question. "Do you recognize me?" You pressed a little harder, aware that your voice had become more urgent. Elrond settled his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated.

Glorfindel faltered, taken aback. You could see the word 'no' forming on his lips but he paused before he could give his denial voice. His head tilted to the other side and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Atar, please?" You wanted to sob, the sounds of a long ago attack echoed in your ears as your voice broke on the word you never wanted to utter again.

The blonde elf's eyes went wide and you swear you saw a spark of anger in their green depths but it was swiftly replaced with disbelief. You held your breath.

"Winimo?" He whispered so quietly you thought you imagined it. "Nitya alma nin?"

You were nodding so hard you could feel your circlet threatening to fly off your head. In a second you were off the low stool you'd settled on and crashing into the armored chest of your father, tears falling down your cheeks.

His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you so hard you thought your ribs might break. "My precious, little bird!"

"I-" you started to laugh, choking on sobs as you did, "I am not so little anymore, atar." Like a child, you found yourself burying into him and clinging to his armored form as if he might vanish. Again.

"No, no you are not." He sighed and pushed you back so he could look in your eyes. Tear tracks marred his own skin. "Look at you..." He sighed, blinking rapidly to clear his sight as he brought his hands up to hold your face. "You turned out gorgeous. Just like me." He barked in a laugh and you found yourself mimicking it. "I," his smile slipped, "I didn't know if any of my house were still alive. I feared that I would be sent back only to have outlived my own flesh and blood."

"Our house has perished." You said forlornly. "I am the only one left from the House of the Golden Flower."

"Ah," Glorfindel shook his head, "you were the only one. I am here now, little one." He reached up a hand to smooth over your hair, his fingers momentarily catching on the circlet above your brow. "We have much to catch up on."

"Indeed," you laughed drily, not entirely thrilled at the prospect of relaying the past centuries to your father.

"My lord," Elrond's voice was soft, gentle, as if he loathed the idea of cutting in to your reunion with your father, "do you wish to stay in Imladris for the foreseeable future?" He asked, tilting his head to the side as he approached the two of you. You stepped away from Glorfindel and towards your intended.

"I would be honored if you would allow me the privilege to stay in this valley and reconnect with my daughter." The golden haired elf was positively beaming at the younger elf-lord.

"Of course," Elrond bowed his head, "I will have Lindir prepare a room for you."

Lindir, who had apparently stuck around just out of your field of view, stepped forward long enough to nod to Elrond before scampering off to do so.

"Now, nitya alma," Glorfindel smiled at Lindir's retreating figure for a moment before turning to you, "tell me everything." He beamed.

"Everything?" You gawked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Glorfindel settled onto the small bench across from where you and Elrond stood, "tell me everything that's happened since last I saw you. How did you come to know the High-King, why are you in Imladris?" He started to ramble and you were suddenly reminded of the long tangents him and Ecthelion would go on when they gathered. "Any betrothals I should know about?" He raised an eyebrow, his face dropping into a faux stern expression that you saw right through.

"Well, actually..." you hummed, settling down on an opposing bench with enough room for Elrond to sit beside you. "Yes, I, well, we-" you gestured to Elrond as the brunette sat down, one arm wrapping around you, "we are actually betrothed."

His green eyes went wide. "What?"

"I have asked for your daughter's hand, Lord Glorfindel." Elrond explained as he brought his other hand over to hold yours in a gentle grip. "And she has agreed to marry me come next spring."

Glorfindel turned his attention to you and you felt yourself shrink into Elrond's side a little at the intensity in his gaze. "Is that so?"

You nodded. "Yes, atar, we have not set our day yet. But we have also just started planning." Suddenly, the weight of your betrothal began to settle on your shoulders. While Elrond had been entirely proper in courting you, you found yourself feeling embarrassed to confess to your father that your heart had been so fully ensnared by the charming half-elf beside you.

"I see," He hummed, voice and face unreadable.

A beat passed. You could feel yourself growing restless and had to resist the urge to snuggle deeper into Elrond's hold.

"I do hope you will forgive me, my lord." Elrond finally spoke, easily ending the pregnant pause with his calming voice, "Had I known you were returning to Middle-Earth, I would have waited to ask for your blessing."

Glrofindel's eyebrow twitched. "I should hope that an elf-lord would know how to properly court." He snipped, tone still hard to discern.

"Atar, please." You huffed. "Elrond has cared for me in ways I could never ask of anyone. He is not just my love, but my friend and closest companion." At this, you did lean into him. "He is the kindest elf I have ever met and he has always offered me his loyalty and time."

Glorfindel stared hard at the two of you, eyes narrowed as they flitted between you and your lover. "Nitya alma," he eventually sighed, lowering his head, "I am happy for you." He smiled but his eyes seemed sad. "I just wish I hadn't missed so much of your life."

"You did not intend to, atar. I hold nothing against you." You smiled back and reached out a hand for him to take in a loose hold.

"Thank you," he bowed his head, "May I see your marriage clasp?" He asked after a moment.

With a nod, you pulled back from him and turned your back to Elrond who carefully reached up to free the pendant from the end of your braid. His hands were skillful and delicate as he freed the strands from the confines of the glittering white-gold clasp.

He let the small braid that signaled your engagement fall back against your head before reaching out to Glorfindel.

Your father took the delicately crafted pendant in hand and held it as if it was the most precious thing in all the world. Which to you, it was. And it warmed your heart to see your father respect that.

Glorfindel turned the clasp over in his palm several times, his eyes never straying from the glittering jewels embedded within it. What he was thinking, you couldn't tell - his face was impassive.

Elrond held you tight to him as your father continued to sit in silence and you found yourself unbelievably grateful for the contact. You'd been with Elrond for many years, you were secure in your relationship. There'd been ups and downs, of course, as there would be in any relationship but you'd both always been secure in each other and in the knowledge that you're love was untainted by outside opinion.

But right now, for the first time in years, you were nervous about what someone might say.

At length, Glorfindel smiled and stood up. He stopped before the both of you and knelt before Elrond, hands extended out as if to receive a blessing but when you looked in his palms you could see your marriage clasp.

Elrond reached out and plucked the important item from your father's hand and turned to put it back in your hair. And as Elrond returned to his task, Glorfindel rose to his feet and bowed low to press a kiss to your forehead and then to Elrond's.

The action made both of your heads snap to the golden haired lord who settled a heavy hand on your love's shoulder. "I can think of no better person for my daughter to marry. I look forward to the wedding."

alma - flower

atar (quenya) - father

heri - lady

heru - lord

meleth - love

nitya - little

winimo - baby, little one

[charcoallip]

There are universes written about unrequited love, loss of life, broken dreams and even withered sunflowers.

But hardly anything is ever said about collateral damage.

When you love someone so much they eventually begin to heal.

From injuries both hidden and otherwise.

And how intensely do they heal, leaning on you while you stand as still as humanely possible for them.

Unwithered unaffected you stand, sun , snow and unrelenting rain.

There is sweat and blood pooling at your feet and there are some roaches too

But why would you be bothered? Someone's finally leaning on you.

You give your chest for a pillow, your arm for support while your legs be their blanket.

Bit by bit you give up everything and why wouldn't you?

At the end of their metamorphosis, you are in awe of their wings and how tall they've become. They take to the air, their flight oversizes the universe's own grandeur.

You can't believe your eyes, overtaken by joy you fail to realise your feet don't work and you can't walk, let alone fly.

And before you reach out to them in hopes they'd take them with you they're already shooting stars.

Blinded by their trail, you desperately flail your arms in hopes of grabbing something.

But all you catch is dust.

- shreeman natwarlal

[fearfylsymmetry]

less of an ask and more of a compliment i love the way your tags are organized…”decay as a commodity” “bodies shifting in narrow spaces” etc is it your own original work or quoting from a song/poem/or something?

helloo angel and welcomee to the show, its always such a joy when people appreciate my silly little tagging system. they're all just random sentences i thought up ages ago, , just to make sense of the mess in front of you etc y'know how it gets love. i couldn't really get behind tagging things as "art" "people, faces places things" etc. i needed to inject a bit of flavour to the whole thing (let this not be read as a subtle jab towards any new york based tumblrinas , we're above that c'mon now). i wouldn't say these little phrases are "personal" by any means but they have been motifs i wanted to actively explore in the art i make so no harm putting them up here i guess haha

for posterity's sake i thought i'd just copy an explanation of my tags from an old ask

decay as a commodity : okay so i envisioned this as a way to just summarize modern living? i think of a whole blueish neon color scheme with this one. my line of thinking was,, with the world slowly rotting away and living becoming so expensive and exhausting, whats the one commodity we all share? wouldn't it be decay? aren't we all slowly fading together etc etc. i use this for images with cooler muted tones and anything with a futuristic vibe,, along with some grimey, monochrome photography

the setting dawn: this is the polar opposite of decay, i think of it as "hope beyond hope" a la Prior Walter's line in Angels in America. i know "the setting sun " might sound more natural but i think of it as,, dawn , when the sun breaks through - in this short period the world starts to wake. qs the dawn sets the day kicks in, with all its routine misery. Dawn i think, is the only time the sun is kind to you, because its still hidden away at least slightly. But the day truly starts and itbeats down on you. And yet we continue to live, past the boredom and the pain, we live past hope, past the quiet comfort of dawn. I use this for pictures with earthy tones and things on the more uplifting side

bodies shifting in narrow spaces: this has some overlap with the decay tag, im not as organized as i need 2 be. i use this for figures & portraits ill want to draw or just really any photography i like that features a human presence. think of it as people so dependent on an outside gaze they constantly try to reinvent themselves, or just, everyday people, getting less and less time to live, having to work and forcing themselves into relationships with any real connection

original sin and other contingencies: im trying to fit this in for more risque photography and maybe things on the more gory side. how do i explain this.. okay so... when there's nothing left to do you'll always have sin to turn to just yo keep yourself occupied, along with other methods/contingencies u get the jist

linen that lingers: my fashion tag nothing more 2 it

the canvas as testimony: for art that is made for the gallery or art that is held in higher regard i guess, more high culture. it includes painting, sculptures,along with architecture,, but maybe i should make an architecture tag. i think of the things here as more personal efforts

motion on a still surface: for art that is energetic and really pops off the page. includes comics, manga, fanart, animation. stuff here may be more low culture but really its not. i just differentiate these art tags as ,,one is stuck to the canvas whatever that canvas may be, while the other leaps off the page

word on a wing let me soar: books, poetry, articles, journals , all words that i adore

a conversation with the self: i wanted this to be for things that are very personal to me but i just use my other tags

angels in descent: my little funny haha tag for yknow ,,, funny haha. yknow the "devil's rejects" the movie? like its a way of saying people so horrible no even the devil would take them. okay so i thought " god's rejects " but that's lame. so i landed on this, like idk...imagine angels falling from grace

arcade shuffle: for my little viddy games lol. sorry for being a #gamergirl but yes it happens sadly ,,moving on

jet jump jive: for songs

at the pictures: for movies,, like imagine im going "cant talk im at the pictures wheee ^_^"

there is such a great distance between now and later: to track my art and writing progress but i barely use it cause it barely draw or write these days i blame the wave of despair that washeth over me

proof of concept: photos i took but there's like almost nothing here

misc that are just funny 2 me like i do it 4 a little chuckle i deserve it:

screw it posting hole - for hole the band

bowies in spaaace - for bowie, after the flight of the concords song cmon its a little funny at least cmon now

twink speaks- for twin peaks lol

[alarrytale]

I just can't understand why Harry for at least the last 1.5 years always looks grumpy or miserable when out on pap or stunt walks or any promo or hidden promo outings. And why does his team not change the strategy? No one benefits from Mr grumpy pants. That's not selling anything. And if he hates it so much that he can't even keep a neutral demeanor why is the equally not working to change this strategy, I know we don't know behind the scenes but he also has entirely disconnected from his fans ( I.e communicating to us)

I also fully agree with your previous anon that nothing feels genuine anymore

Everything about him is planned and scripted which totally takes away the joy that came with being a fan of him.

Hi, anon!

I feel you. I don't know if they're still going for him being pretentious here. He's too good for social media, he's above all that, he's a voracious reader and all his songs are deep and sad and so full of metaphors nobody can figure them out. He's not talking about 1d (not much anyways, and only when it benefits him or he'd get shit on if he didn’t). He's all about clean living and meditation. He's a modern liberal man and an ally. Too perfect for the rest of us peasants. All that makes him seem deeply mysterious, untouchable, but not that relatable.

Him looking grouchy at pap walks or in set up situations makes it look like the paps bother him, he's above all that you know, or like fans annoy him. It's like he's screaming 'leave me be!', yet he's plugging citrus fruit bikes in the busiest street of london during a pr stunt. It's confusing all parts of fandom.

I so hope they'll change strategy. I think they've forgotten what we love about him and why. Because they have stopped trying to give us the things we love, and we're struggling to remember why we're a fan of him and why we should continue to be.

[cyberpunk-20xx]

about masc!V's VA

cw for general spoilers and mentions of typical-canon violence

I always find it strange that people find masc!V's VA emotionless, or even annoying or plain bad. I'm not gonna say anything about fem!V's VA because I don't pay attention at all to it cus if I do it gives me dysphoria.

I don't, on the other end, find it that strange that most people I've seen with this opinion are in fact cis men.

To me masc!V's VA is actually super emotional, but not in the conventional likeable, heroic way. Jaded and reserved at the same time. I like the VA a lot for doing what I consider great work at presenting us a character who has lived from 2050 to 2077 in a deeply fucked up world where hope is so sparse. A world that we have no idea how fucked up is, even reading about the ttrpg because to me Cyberpunk Red is much less fucked up even if it is already a dystopia.

Just as a reminder, in CP77's NC society:

Amputation without actual health concern is highly encouraged all for the sake of pure performance. And nothing else. Your physical body is socially just disposable. The only way to keep up with the world that keeps eating itself is just to upgrade, and if you don't have the money for it? Fuck you, fuck your ideals, fuck your dreams.

You get suicide baited on the regular by the fucking street advertisements.

Violence against marginalised people is at an all-time all. Sex workers have it even worse than in the real world and that's saying something on how women and queer people are treated in general.

Acid rain is normal.

The majority of the animal population is extinct in the whole world. The cattle industry has collapsed and unless you're Kerry Eurodyne levels of rich, meat is either made of worms or insects and it's not even something hidden or taboo. In fact, it's shown explicitly in ads. Real vegetables and organic food in general is scarce as well. We might, irl 2023, start to be desensitized about it because we're on the brink of the ultraliberal hell that the game is portraying, but human's civilisation started with agriculture, and cattle culture was a big fucking part of that, regardless of one's ethics and morals about meat consumption (do not clown about veganism on this post, people are allowed to value animal life regardless of this video game blurb). In various quests, namely Panam's and River's, we can see firsthand how the collapse of that industry has rotten individuals and left the land in ruins.

Even a mondial star like Kerry or a fixer queen like Rogue are just, in the end, the bitches of the corps they sold out to, and unable to fight back. In fact, they've both given up entirely until V comes crashing into their life, with Johnny in tow. The fandom paints them as charismatic individuals but I really just think that's the rose-tinted glasses effect of us knowing what they used to be, when they tried, and them just being... Pretty conventionally attractive, quippy and sarcastic. But really even those two people who we are presented with as Succesful Individuals TM just... Man they just fucking suck, okay? They're miserable, they don't like themselves, they don't like who they are anymore, they don't have any speck of joy left in their lives, they're both estranged from their kids, alone, and just going on because death is scary. They're so human. They're at the top of the world and in the end they're still nothing in the face of it. Love them both so much but they're heartbreaking.

V always starts the game after having lost everything. Any other fucker in their place would have most likely finished just like a certain Heywood kid with spikey brunette hair. V is an exceptional individual for even having a chance at a second life.

V pretty much has brain cancer and is promised a painful, slow agonising death unless they basically kill themselves, and the less painful way to go is to gobble down medication but then that means giving the body up to Johnny. Johnny's first interaction with them is: violent physical assault and suicide baiting. It's hell. V is in hell. It could not be me if I were honest, I would not bother fighting it and I would not only alt+F4 from life, I would do as Johnny wishes at this point and erase us both at once.

V's so traumatized that when they lose Jackie, they're still able to function, but not enough to see a blatant trap coming. And when they have to carry Evelyn's corpse out of that tub, they don't have a breakdown, they just tank it. Which is not badass by the way, if you frame this as anything positive you need therapy yourself tbh boo you deserve better.

V's also a cold blooded murderer very easily if you want to take that path, and I'd even argue that the game makes it very hard for them to not be a killer honestly. Even the "non-lethal" optic mod doesn't work that well past a certain point. I've yet to try my hand at a pacifist run.

If you want V to be a good person, a hopeful person, someone who does not sound deeply suicidal and terribly fucked up, someone who's not used to death and treason as their daily lot, someone who's going to make you feel good about yourself when interacting with the world... I don't think you understood the game you were buying, nor that you were paying much attention while you were playing.

I'll be the first to admit have my own biases and gripes with the game's bleak looks on life, at its pretense at being "cyberpunk" when it truly only has the "cyber" part down, but at the same time I gotta give it to it, it's cohesive within its own universe and tone. V's canon, vanilla character makes perfect sense in the settings we are presented with. Masc!V's VA just does a good job of translating that.

But I guess that's not all of it, the difference between my interpretation and the one I made this post about makes sense because it is true that masc!V's VA does not act like the normal hero archetype at all, but like an anti-hero, except without the whole "charismatic leader" bullshit tone and bravado, unlike… Well, Johnny himself.

Masc!V's voice is not only not the voice of a good guy, it also fails to be the voice of a leader, of someone who's got it all figured out, of, well, the alpha male. It commits the crime of not being Good and not being Manly, at once! It even dares to be human and vulnerable at times! No wonder it gets haters lmao.

And the people I see bashing on masc!V's VA are always fucking kissing Johnny's ass for being who he is in the flashbacks, in the legends and at the beginning of the game. And that, to me, is pretty self-explanatory why I cannot relate with their opinion on masc!V's VA.

[katsukikitten]

Since @kingkatsuki has been mia (wow rude) I guess I'll make her an eye fic too 🙄

It wasn't unusual for you to catch Bakugou looming in your peripheral as you sat yourself in front of the mirror to get ready for the day. Just barely seeing his bored, almost agitated scowl as he watches you pamper and prime yourself for even the simplest of outings.

How his red eyes burn into you as he watches you drag the dark black eyeliner across your lid. Checking your work and touching up here and there to make them the same thickness.

The kohl black makes yours eyes that much more breathtaking, although he'd never admit that. Always chiding you for wearing makeup when you were perfect as you were but Bakugou Katsuki was never one to stifle his woman's interests.

But he would tease you about it though.

"Stupid woman, adding all that war paint for lunch?" He growls behind you, still having his arms crossed over his muscled chest.

And you just roll those perfect eyes that he loves.

To you they're just another set of blue eyes but to him they were so much more.

There was a softness to them that only you had, one that infected him the second he laid vermillion embers on you. Smoothing out even his nastiest rough edge, not to change him to your liking but because he wanted to be better. For you he'd always be better.

If he looked closer he could see the grays and heavily muted greens that could be missed in your oasis eyes. Catching them in just the right light he could see the smallest spec of golden near the edge of your iris, just before the steely blue ring that keeps it all neatly together for him. The quick glimpse makes him think of the sun settling on the crest of a wave before the movement sends it soaring again, just like his heart. Fluttering like some baby bird, frantic and quick as he waits and watches.

His own eyes only crafted for you. To see you, his ethereal woman who's fringe dark bangs are long enough to tickle even longer darker lashes and he bites back the sigh.

You soften him, truly you do and in the same breath you bring him such comfort. Such joy and relief, as if he were a man in the desert believing in the mirage of a calm paradise in the midst of dry dusty chaos.

In a blink he's right behind you. Tilting your head to look up at him as he drowns in his thoughts over just how pretty you are. Making a displeased face despite the warmth that seeps from his heart, snaking through his veins and settles along his skin. He leans closer and as he does, his face changed, a more gentle expression melts his features as he lets the rough pad of his thumb run along the apex of your cheek.

Suddenly you feel flush under his overly intense gaze, as if he's staring into the parts of your soul you had hope to keep hidden.

"Katsuki?" Your pretty voice, forming the syllables of his name, the name he's given to you, just right.

But he cannot help himself, he snorts, mean smirk pulling up his lip.

"'M hungry, hurry up, Princess."

The peaks of his ears tinged a pretty pink just barely give his thoughts away.