#Lord Lieutenants

[thepastisalreadywritten]

[candyswirls]

Space Marine Cuddle Pile PT 2

Continuation of this. PT 3.

@wolf-feathers12 you owe me fifty cookies and I’m gluten free

Imagine:

Titus is not quite new anymore to the watch. He’s slowly opening up to his squad mates but still is apprehensive. The mission has been a success and his squad wants to celebrate. They worked well together. But Titus does not wish to participate. He is bitter and mournful. News that the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, had returned came through a few days ago. He was overjoyed at hearing that. But he doesn’t get to celebrate. Not when he’s dishonored his chapter. Not when he’s a black shield. Not when he can’t celebrate with his brothers. Before he can go to the training cages, a squad mate pulls him back, not taking no for an answer. He may have not told them his chapter and was using another name but they can tell how hard the last few days have been. Rather than celebrating they all huddle together, one with another. They miss each of their chapters and brothers. But they can find comfort in one another. It’s a moment of reprieve for the ex-captain’s broken heart.

As an Emperors’ children you are far more prone to cuddling than one might think. You were always underestimated. Many scoffed at your legion and chalked you up to pompous and egotistical men. Some of that was true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Even more hurtful was the rejection of your Primarch. He didn’t want you or your brothers. He would not lead. You all were so desperate that some followed his clone when he showed up. You’re all scattered and trying what you can to make Fulgrim proud and have him return. Sometimes the rejection hurts so much you’ll curl up together in a pile. Pretending the weight is your Primarch, welcoming you back and saying that you’ve done well. That you’re worthy of his love. Those who are a part of war bands tend to be flock to bigger Astartes. Craving large and warm arms to wrap around you and say it’s okay. You’re not useless or worthless. You’re not an object or disposable.

Little known fact about Iron Warriors. You will cuddle anyone but your own legion. You’re so touch starved and refuse to ask for it due to how the chapter is. Cuddling your brothers? Revolting. Your Primarch won’t do it. Cold and refusing to show any weakness. But the minute any other traitor Astartes wants to start a pile or even a daemon or cultist request a hug, you’re there. You will not say anything and you’re definitely not saying no. You will just join in. If you see a cuddle pile you won’t ask, you’re suddenly in the middle. Emperor’s Children tend to like Iron Warrior’s for this reason. Might as well write “Free Hugs” on the back of their armor.

Newly joined Blood Angels feeling the psychic wound of their genefathers death. The looming of the red thirst and the chance of falling to the black rage. Their new brothers hold them in a large mass. Safe and warm to let them know that they’re not alone. They all feel the pain. They all mourn their father and fallen brethren. They all share it. So they share their hugs and affection.

Black Templars having massive sermons where the chaplain gets emotional and they all hold one another as they recite prayers. Hold each other up. Being strong like Dorn. Their Primarch isn’t here but they are here for each other.

Night Lords will cram themselves into dark and tight places to hide, entangled in each other’s arms. Their Primarch was mad and didn’t care for them. They have to care for each other. Everything they do is vile and violent. Except for this. Ever so gentle touches, protective embraces, the most tender of running hands through hair, gentle head butting. They are one of the most affectionate legions but only with each other. Silent as they relish in each other’s deep rooted sadness and hatred for themselves and solace of being with one another.

Lorgar finally has a moment of silence as the word bearers are escorted away from Monarchia by the Ultramarines. The emperor’s wrath had been fierce. He ends up dropping to his knees and pulling his closest son into an embrace. The others around him move forward without thinking. He pulls so many into his arms, has them laying their heads on his shoulders and back. Pressing their cheeks and foreheads to his own as he cries prayers he wrote. They were innocent! Loyal to him! He had done this for him! All that work! It was a gift! A tribute! He just burned it away! Killed them all. Rejected it. He’s in so much pain and anger but having his sons close eases it a bit.

Magnus clings to his sons. They don’t react as dust swirls within the armor. Foolish stupid Ahriman. He had managed to save the remaining few and bring them into the warp. Relieved that they all weren’t dead. This seemed worse though. He presses a kiss to the top of one’s helmet, praying that there’s some bit of conscious in there. Those that were unaffected are huddled behind him as his new wings caress them.

He wasn’t very affectionate. Mortarion had grown up shying away from it and he rarely indulged in cuddle piles. But after so many had died from horrid plagues and sicknesses, he had to pledge himself to Nurgle. It didn’t matter though. His sons were saved and himself. He had sat himself on the ground and big then to come forth. Some were nuzzled into his side, a few rested their heads on his torso. He was surrounded by his sons. Safe. He didn’t care what it had taken or what would happen next.

[saintstars]

"His soft neck was between my hands before even he could elude me. Instantaneously, the gold in his eyes sparked with realization and horrified shock of what I was about to do in a split heartbeat ere I was upon him."

Of Fairest Flame by @perlen-gold

[2stepadmiral]

Okay ngl but the added detail of the Fire Nation unit Zuko spoke up for and was burned and banished for being assigned as his crew is beautiful. Like there are some changes I’m not sure about but Zuko earning their loyalty by having saved them is such a great addition and I teared up when lieutenant Jee announced that OUR PRINCE has returned.

[ayaosguqin]

“The Crimson wizard”

“what if “ another was seduced by Melkor and instead Mairon was sent to Arda as an Istari

[natjennie]

sure, why not! a ghosts vine compilation.

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

While all three of my beloved Terror Lieutenant Ships are still technically in the running for the yuri tournament, I just want to say they ARE all yuri. to me. Specifically they are all different delightful flavors of lesbian stereotype.

Hodgving for instance are hashtag girlbestfriends. Absolute Jennifer's Body situation. They are two little girls playing house and snuggling together Too Much during sleepovers and "practicing kissing". They are a maid of honor speech where it's painfully desperately obvious that she's in love with the bride. They are Good Luck Babe Dot MP3. Starts at choir practice and ends with a body count.

Hodglittle on the other hand are an actual established butch4femme couple. Hodge after three hours: Ok I'm ready to leave the house! Ned: [tossing on one final jacket on top of her five layers of clothes] Wonderful darling you look so pretty let's go. Also by established I mean yes they uhauled it immediately after meeting. And yes that was a mistake but they're In It Together Now. Codependent and loving it.

Meanwhile Nedving are just two classic useless lesbians. Probably too shy to ever even meet each other irl. Ned will just keep posting pictures of like, a pony and a lamb sleeping cuddled up in a meadow and tagging them "#me and who" while Jirv keeps liking every post and being too nervous to say a single word to her. The height of romance and repression and also agonizing stupidity.

[motherfuckingmaneater]

Lord Voldemort’s fiercest warrior. His last, best lieutenant.

[magicalgirlypop]

not to be dramatic but i am so tired of certain magical girl fans who, in 2024, whine about madoka ruining the genre and how "thanks to madoka there are no lighthearted magical girl shows anymore and everything is all dark and gritty now >>:(" because that's not true at all!! if lighthearted magical girl shows aren't in demand anymore then why is toei still making precure seasons? not only that but there are a bunch of new magical girl shows coming out this year alone. but instead you choose to give attention to madoka wannabe #324 and fetish bait show #582 to whine about how "magical girls are dead now".

you want lighthearted, fluffy, fun magical girl shows? THEN FUCKING SUPPORT THEM!

himitsu no aipri, which is a part of the pretty series, will air on april 7

acro trip will premiere some time this year

magilumiere co ltd will premiere in the fourth quarter of this year

the magical girl and evil lieutenant used to be archenemies will air in july of this year

GO SUPPORT THESE SHOWS INSTEAD OF WHINING ABOUT THE GENRE BEING DEAD, THEN WE CAN TRULY HAVE A MAGICAL GIRL RENAISSANCE.

[earthlybeam]

Hi hi hi!!! I found this blog and I'm so happy!!! I love elves ((especially lindir)) and I was very happy to read everything, you write incredibly beautifully!!!! But I want to make a request, can you write something of Feren with a reader who is a hobbit? Specifically who comes in Thorin's company

how would the elves react to this?

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Feren Versions below (two versions)

✨🏹🤎 𝓕𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷 🤎🏹✨

Feren x hobbit reader you

Feren’s Protective Instincts

➷ The dense, shadowed forest of Mirkwood seems to close in around the group. After the chaos of an ambush—spiders emerging from the shadows, and orcs that seemed to spring from the very trees themselves—the company had been forced to fight through the night. Now, as they press forward, the eerie quiet of the forest feels almost more oppressive than the danger of the creatures they’ve already faced. Feren, ever vigilant, notices you lagging behind, your steps heavy, your face pale from the fright of what you’ve encountered. The path ahead seemed endless, the trees of Mirkwood looming like ancient sentinels watching over the small group. Feren kept his eyes forward, alert as ever, scanning the shadows and the underbrush for any sign of movement. His longbow was in hand, though the tension in the air told him that they had seen enough danger for the time being. But something felt… off.

➷ His gaze drifted briefly over his companions, ensuring that the rest of the company was keeping their guard up. Thorin and the others were moving ahead, talking quietly amongst themselves as they planned their next course of action. The air was thick with the faint scent of the forest, but Feren’s attention was drawn to a slight, lingering disturbance behind him. It was you. You had fallen behind, far more than usual. Your hobbit-sized frame had been through too much today—the battle against the spiders, the swift and brutal encounters with the orcs. Though you’d held your ground, Feren could see it now. Your steps were slow, almost hesitant, and your expression was distant, lost in the dark thoughts that no one could truly understand except you. He noticed the way your hands trembled slightly as they gripped the hilt of your sword, your small form dwarfed by the towering trees that seemed to press in from all sides.

➷ The weight of Mirkwood’s oppressive silence was heavy on you, and Feren knew all too well what the forest could do to one’s mind. His heart tightened as he realized you had been shaken more than you let on. He had seen it, the quiet strength you’d shown in battle, but this was different—Mirkwood had a way of wearing down even the strongest of wills. His instincts flared, and without thinking, he altered his path slightly, making his way to you. His feet were silent on the forest floor, a gift from years spent moving through the wilderness. As he neared you, he watched your every move, noticing the way you stumbled slightly as you walked. Your shoulders were slumped, and though you tried to maintain your composure, he could see the cracks beginning to form beneath the surface.

➷ Feren’s eyes narrowed, his brows knitting together with concern, though he said nothing at first. You were still trying to press on, stubborn as ever, but it was clear you were struggling. Finally, when the gap between you had closed enough, he spoke, his voice low and steady. “You should stay closer,” he murmured, careful not to startle you. “Mirkwood is no place for someone as small as you to wander off alone.” The words were more protective than he had intended, but the sense of responsibility he felt for your well-being seemed to overpower any concern he might have had about you finding it patronizing. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, trying to gauge how much you were truly affected by the forest’s haunting hold. You glanced up at him, your expression conflicted, as if torn between the desire to stand tall and prove yourself and the exhaustion that weighed on you. The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but for a brief moment, Feren thought he saw something flicker in your eyes—perhaps a recognition of his sincerity.

➷ As the next stretch of path grew darker, a heavy fog creeping in from the east, Feren stepped closer, his figure now hovering at your side. He moved with quiet grace, the sounds of his footsteps drowned out by the wind rustling in the trees. His presence was calming, though it was still laced with an air of subtle authority. When you faltered again—your step uneven, your breath coming a bit too shallow—he didn’t hesitate. With a quick, almost reflexive movement, Feren reached out, placing a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder. His touch was surprisingly warm, and though it was meant to steady you, it lingered longer than necessary. “Stay close, little one,” he said, his voice low but reassuring. “The shadows are not kind to those who wander too far.”

➷ For a brief second, you could feel his steady presence beside you, grounding you in a way that seemed impossible in this cursed forest. The words, though simple, carried a weight that made the hairs on your neck stand on end—not from fear, but from the quiet strength in his tone. His hand remained there, a constant reminder of his watchful eye, of his unspoken promise to keep you safe, even in this dark, strange place. You nodded silently, feeling the truth in his words. You had always prided yourself on your ability to look after yourself, but in Mirkwood, you were reminded of how fragile you could be in such a perilous world. The comfort of Feren’s presence, the quiet force of his protection, was something you hadn’t expected—but it was something you found you needed more than you cared to admit. Together, you walked through the darkness, Feren’s steps matching yours in a careful rhythm. Even as the wind began to howl and the trees creaked ominously above, you could feel a sense of calm settle over you—knowing that, for now, you were not alone in the shadows.

Feren Observing Your Bravery

➷ The company of Thorin Oakenshield has traveled deep into the heart of Mirkwood, where danger lurks at every turn. The dense trees and tangled underbrush provide little visibility, and the air is thick with the unsettling silence of the forest. A sudden, unexpected attack from a pack of wargs, swift and ferocious, sends the group into battle. The dwarves fight with their usual strength, but in the chaos, you, a hobbit among giants, find yourself surrounded by the snarling creatures. Most would have run, but not you. You stand your ground, poised with a sword that seems far too large for your frame, your feet firm on the ground despite the overwhelming odds.

➷ The first warg burst from the underbrush with a growl, its fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Thorin and his company reacted swiftly, axes raised, shields clashing against the beasts with thunderous sounds. The chaos of battle erupted around Feren, the clash of steel on fur and bone reverberating through the trees. The wargs were fast—too fast—and their jaws were hungry, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent. The company fought valiantly, but Feren couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that they were being overwhelmed. His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, looking for any signs of weakness in the enemy. And that was when his gaze fell upon you. You were not a warrior by nature. No one would expect a hobbit to wield a sword in the thick of battle. And yet, there you were, your stance steady, your eyes focused as a warg lunged at you, snapping its teeth inches from your face. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. Instead, you raised your sword, blocking the beast’s fangs with a sharp clang of steel. Your small frame, normally so unassuming, seemed to hold its ground against the massive creature. You were far from skilled, but you were determined. Your hands gripped the sword tightly, the strain evident in your posture as you pushed against the warg’s weight. In that moment, Feren couldn’t help but feel an unexpected surge of respect for you.

➷ He had seen many brave warriors in his time—dwarves, elves, and men, all with the strength of years of battle behind them. But bravery came in many forms. Your bravery, he realized, was quieter, not born from the fearlessness of a trained fighter but from something else. Something deeper. Without thinking, he moved to your side, slashing at the warg that was closing in on you. The creature howled as his blade struck true, but it was clear the fight was far from over. The beasts were relentless, and there were more of them than you could handle alone. Feren swung his sword again, his movements swift and precise, clearing a path for you. The warg you had been struggling with took a step back, retreating into the darkness. For a brief moment, you stood there, breathless but unshaken, your eyes still fixed on the battlefield, unwilling to let your guard down. Feren couldn’t help but admire how you carried yourself—small, but fierce in a way that few could match.

➷ The battle raged on, and Feren found himself at your side more than once, guarding you as much as fighting. The wargs fell one by one, but Feren’s attention remained on you, watching as you pressed forward, determined not to yield. Your movements were rough and unrefined, but there was a quiet strength behind them. You were outmatched, yes, but you didn’t run. You fought. Finally, when the last of the wargs lay defeated at their feet, the silence of the forest felt deafening. Feren stood among the company, his chest heaving with effort. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the field for any signs of further danger, though the threat seemed to have passed for now. But his gaze once again found you. You were standing slightly apart from the rest of the company, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Your sword was lowered, and you were still trembling from the adrenaline, but you were standing, unbroken. Feren found himself walking toward you, his steps steady and purposeful.

➷ You glanced up as he approached, and for a moment, his eyes met yours—there was something in the way you held yourself that made him pause, a spark of admiration flickering in his chest. “You…” His voice was rough from the battle, but there was a note of surprise in it. “I did not expect such bravery from one so small.” He paused, his eyes studying you for a moment longer, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps… you are more like us than I thought.” You met his gaze, the exhaustion of the battle still evident in your eyes, but there was something else there too. Something that spoke of pride, of determination. Feren couldn’t quite explain it, but in that moment, he saw you differently. You weren’t just a hobbit who had joined the company. You were a warrior in your own right, even if you didn’t see it yet.

➷ Feren took a step closer, the battle now behind them. His voice was softer this time, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to something warmer. “You’ve got more courage in you than most I’ve met. Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t notice.” He offered you a rare, appreciative nod before stepping back, his hand resting briefly on the hilt of his sword. You stood there, your chest still heaving, the weight of the battle hanging in the air between you. But for a moment, you felt something different—respect, not just from Feren, but from yourself too. You had stood your ground when it mattered. And that, you realized, was enough.

[katarasmomsnecklace]

OK so controversial opinion

I haven't see the live action avatar (I'm a Katara stan yall I just can't do it) but going based of reviews and general consensus I can see I'm going against the grain here

I hate that the 41st is Zuko's crew

I've seen so many people say that it was the only change they liked but I cannot get on board with it

My biggest issue and I guess this is on me since it wasn't stated in the show (though heavily implied) was that I and many assumed that the 41st was child soldiers

I know they only state it's new recruits in the og but even as a kid I assumed that meant teens at the very oldest

I thought the 41st would be 14/15 year olds

And I assumed they all died

Leaving the fate of the 41st ambiguous was what made the fire nation terrifying to me as a kid, were they really willing to kill their own children? That's what made Zukos banishment hit so hard for me because if the Fire Lord could maim his own child, what was happening to the other kids in the fire nation?

Also it takes away a level of cruelty from Ozai, even if the 41st is alive is he really going to let Zuko know that, is going to let Zuko see the people he saved?

Plus I think it really sours Iroh telling the crew about Zuko's compassion and love of his nation and its people; instead it sounds more like "stop complaining that he's disrespectful he saved your lives"

I just can't see how it adds to the story and I think it actually makes Zuko's arc with his crew worse.

In my opinion, it messed with the untold story telling, we didn't need to know what happened to the 41st. Why not let the audience draw their own conclusions instead of dumbing it down

I just really really hate that change

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

... green ...

Meryl Streep on the set of "The French Lieutenant's Woman", 1981.

📷 Lord Snowdon

[youraveragemiscellanyenjoyer]

oH

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Something something... Live Action ATLA adding all of these scenes of Zhao and Ozai and Azula taking advantage of Zuko and other fire nation citizens kindness and mercy and treating it as a weakness. Azula pretending to be a rebel who lost her family to trick the resistance, Ozai using his children's insecurities to pit them against each other, Zhao using Lieutenant Jee's loyalty to Zuko to trick him into sending Zuko into a trap; it's all the same thing. The show even started with Sozin using the other nations coming together to help the Earth Kingdom as a distraction to kill the air nomads.

Paralleling that with all the emphasis they made on Aang being supported by his friends, his family, and that being his strength and not his weakness despite what the other Avatars were telling him? That was truly the heart of the original show. I'm ready for this show to teach me that kindness is not weakness again.

[feathery-bastard]

Little Ralph and his daddy showing off his favorite book!

@lotftober2024

[capsheartbreak]

hey uh. wtf was going on with lord brigadier sir anthony bartholomew raisinby jones. he served with the captain in the war. he left for north africa. was the captain not ready to tell the others ab havers? why would he make up a fake name? did he and havers talk ab secret spy names when they were doing paperwork or whatever back during the war? was havers just like "yeah my super cool spy name would be lord brigadier sir anthony bartholomew raisinby jones" and the captain was just like "yep I'm remembering this forever and ever" did they actually go on a super secret spy mission? (probably not but I'm delusional and silly) what happened on that walk with him? WHAT HAPPENED ON THE WALK. WHY IS IT UR FONDEST MEMORY CAP. U CAN TELL ME. PLEASE.