#a hug will suffice

[kittylittersmoothie]

yes

[arty-tardigrade]

They HUG!

[circusballoon]

@insertdisc5's game In Stars and Time has absorbed my whole heckin brain and so I needed to draw Siffrin and Loop because I love them

I just!!! want them to hug!!!!

[bloo-the-dragon]

Moon moon give me a hug please?

hug be upon ye

[general-dweebous]

what I would do for a bear hug from Halsin

[raccoonaday]

Can I hug one of the raccoons? Your raccoons are so cute

29: Racoon Hug

ko-fi

[renshengs]

trust tumblr users to reblog my thorki-tagged fanart as bro/dinsons

[lordgrimwing]

Glorfindel the Child Lord

[for Glorfindel Week, hosted by @glorfindelweek, Day 2, a companion piece to Glorfindel the Child Balrog Slayer]

“My King?” Glorfindel said. “You sent a message?”

Turgon’s office was small and intimate. The council room and other official and ceremonial rooms in the spiraling tower were large and opulent as only the Noldor could be, but he liked his private room small and tastefully decorated with a handful of meaningful items. There was something about conversing in these rooms as opposed to anywhere else that made Glorfindel feel completely seen and understood, even if he was not always called here for the most pleasant of discussions. 

Turgon looked up from his armchair by the window. He held a book in one hand and an elegant glass of some russet drink in the other. The gold woven into his hair flashed in the setting sun as he raised his head. “I see the message found you. I wondered how long it would take.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel agreed, conscious of the flecks of dirt on his clothes that threatened to fall onto the pristine rug. Maybe he should have taken the time to change first. “The courier should be commended: she let no great feat daunt her.”

Turgon smiled and gestured at the seat across from him as he set the leather-bound book on a side table. “Nor mountain cliffs, I suspect. Calatail more than earns her name. Please, sit.”

“I dare not, for my tunic is soiled. I am quite happy to speak on my feet.” He pointed at one of the various muddy marks to illustrate the risk he posed to furniture. He really should have changed, and maybe washed his hair, too. He doubted Turgon had expected him, the lord of one of his houses, to arrive several hours late and covered in dirt and detritus. He wasn’t doing a very good job at this lord business, was he?

“Laurefindelë, a little dirt will not harm the upholstery. Sit.” Turgon said it with a serious but teasing tone, mixing Sindarin with Quenya. 

Glorfindel did so, settling himself on the edge of the seat and touching as little of the cushion as possible. Turgon definitely noticed but refrained from commenting further, which was a relief. He did not want to disobey his king, but also, he really should have made himself presentable. He wasn’t a child anymore.

“Now, Glorfindel,” Turgon said, relaxing back into his seat and into casual Quenya, using the Sindarin version of his guest’s name, which he knew the young lord preferred. “From all appearances, I will assume Calatail had to retrieve you from your House’s fields in the northern glen-”

Glorfindel kept his mouth shut. That was not true at all and he was fairly certain Turgon knew he hadn’t been anywhere near where he should have been. It wasn’t that he was trying to shirk his new duties, and he understood the weight of responsibility the title of Lord gave him—he grew up watching his parents bear that responsibility. Sometimes he just wanted to run off and leave it all behind. He couldn’t though, so he’d compromise by climbing as high up the precipice surrounding the secret city as he could. He knew he shouldn’t do it but he did.

“-and that our meeting slipped your mind while you were thus occupied.” Turgon’s voice was calm, his face untroubled, but he was without doubt giving gentle chastisement. 

It would have been better, Glorfindel thought, if the king had reprimanded him with sharp words, or demanded an explanation for the tardiness. He would have if any of the other lords kept him waiting for so long. He had much to do and little time to wait for dawdlers. 

Glorfindel cast his eyes down and clasped his dirty hands in his lap, attempting to look duly chastened, even if he didn't feel it. He knew he should do better, could treat his title with all the gravity it deserved (he'd seen his parents bear it with all the honor they could, even during the hardest parts of the March) but he knew he’d do this again, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about it. He would try to not miss another meeting, at least.   

“We’ll put that behind us,” Turgon said kindly. “I wanted to discuss your House’s contribution to the Festival of Trees.”

Glorfindel straightened in his seat. This was about his House; he needed to represent his people well. This was one thing he couldn’t fall short of. “Preparations are well underway. We have dual responsibilities with guarding the fourth gate, so I’ve broached the possibility of collaboration with the House of the Fountain for the tournaments.”

“Very good,” Turgon said with a nod. “As usual, Idril is organizing special events for the children.”

This was clearly the reason he wanted to meet with Glorfindel.

“In years passed, you’ve assisted her with that.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel agreed. Idril recruited him to shepherd the younger children—mostly products of the Long Peace before the construction of Gondolin—from activity to activity. He liked it. The formal festivities were nice, especially once he was old enough to appreciate the more solemn bits, but he always looked forward to gathering up the children to meet Idril.

Turgon smiled again but his lips were thin, like he was about to say something and did not fully like the taste of the words. “I’ve asked that she find someone else to help her this year and going forward. With your new responsibilities, I thought it best to relieve you of that burden so that you can focus on your House.”

Glofindel did not slump in the seat. He did not let his shoulders drop with disappointment because he was not disappointed. He really wasn’t. He knew this would come eventually; he wasn’t a child anymore, and he could name at least three elflings who’d happily take up the honor of working with Idril. Still, a pang of loss shot through his chest at the finality heralded by the king’s words.

He’d given up his childhood when Turgon placed the lordship on his shoulders.

(his memories of the ceremony tasted like smoke from the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and salt from the tears on his face, his parents’ absence a bleeding wound inside his chest)

“My deepest thanks,” he said past the lump in his throat. “I might have forgotten about the conflict until the celebration was upon us. I will write a letter for Idril to thank her for allowing me to work with her for so long, and suggesting new candidates to fill the role.”

“I’m sure she’ll track you down herself in the coming months.” Turgon’s expression was once again relaxed, the challenging part of the conversation over. 

She would, wouldn’t she? He wondered how long he could avoid it without being rude. Idril was nothing if not determined (that was one of the things he admired about her when he was young).

There was another pause, but this time Glorfindel had nothing to contribute to the silence other than his own. 

Turgon’s tone changed again when he opened his mouth, going from the king he had become in Beleriand to the family friend Glorfindel vaguely recalled from Valinor. “Lordship is a great weight I have asked you to shoulder. How are you doing, Laurë?”

“I am learning a great many things.” Glorfindel didn’t know how much more he could bring himself to say. “And as you’ve seen, schedule management is still a trial. My King,” he stood, “if our business is finished, might I beg leave to depart? I’ve just remembered I have a House meeting to preside over that starts in half an hour. I promised my steward I wouldn’t be late this time.”

Turgon looked taken aback at the sudden change in the conversation. He looked up at the young lord from his seat. “That was everything pressing. Please, go if you need.”

Relief filled the parts of Glorfindel’s body not already flooded with painful memories. He spun on his heel, no longer caring if his clothes shed debris on the rugs, and hurried from the office. He barely caught the king’s promise that they’d talk again soon. 

He left the palace tower as quickly as he could, nearly tripping on the stairs in his haste to be out and away so he could find a quiet spot to recompose himself. The House meeting wasn’t as imminent as he’d said, but he didn’t have enough time to hide the evidence of tears from his steward if he started crying now. 

(she’d been his parents' steward since Valinor, and she’d watched him grow up)

(he feared he was disappointing her with his struggles to fill his father’s shadow as Lord of the House of the Golden Flower)

He tucked himself away in the unused space behind a bakery. Sitting very still, he focused on the tantalizing smells coming from the open windows rather than the memories of the day the battered, fractured army came back from the Nirn.

[hildegardladyofbones]

I need to be hugged* :(

*only by a corpse

[ladynicte]

Ashley not even wanting to get a boyfriend because she doesn't like them.

She doesn't think much of humans as a general much less of the few guys she knows

She already has her one favorite person

And she hates that she knows the only reason they stand her is because of her looks. Because the only worth they can see in her annoying loud weird self is her body.

But still, she knows she's ostracized, she knows she can't keep a friendship for more than a month, she knows that Andrew keeps getting further and further away from her

And she needs somebody

Some sort of link to a social circle near her because being alone it's so difficult to operate even when she doesn't get lonely (sometimes she still does) making it out on your own is so unbelievably difficult

So she gives one a chance.

A meaningless one, the one who least resembles Andrew, she feels sick to her stomach whenever she thinks about Andy and then remembers her boyfriend.

She feels unloyal and dirty and gross.

And that boyfriend of hers, with all of his physical and emotional needs, is only managing to tire her out.

She resents him, and she hates him, and she can't help but push him away every single chance she gets.

Ashley hates the sad face he makes at her, and she can't tolerate the thought of going out with him more than twice a month.

And yet, she won't allow him to leave her, because it hurts her pride, and he seeked her out first, and being alone is so difficult.

And why can't people just like her as she is. At least Andrew likes her as she is, doesn't he

At the end, Ashley is just delighted when the day finally comes, and Andrew snaps at the guy, and he never gets anywhere near her again.

Ashley didn't even have to break up with him herself, and she gets her brother's attentions all to herself once more.

And, Andrew gets a new excuse to hang a little too much around his sister, after all, he has to protect her from asshole guys like that right, it's his job as her brother.

So in the end it works out.

[derangedanomaly]

*gives you all my money*

I don't have a reason, but you deserve it:3

Aww, help 😭

Thank you lmao- but now you're broke 💀

I don't need material love lmao

[tyranno-solei-rex]

i think all my problems would be solved with a medium to long hug and maybe a forehead kiss

[pothxxdlemon]

I've already set the last of my dignity ablaze, might as well own the desperation at this point lmao

[damnedrainbows]

rps with hugs and cuddles, kisses, tickle fights and play fighting, sleeping on each other, and tears are like my achilles heel

so yes if it has any of that in it with our muses, you are absolutely going to get custom icons drawn

and if you hit the weak point of it being a relationship I’m strongly invested in like Al and his buggy and Husk, or Lucifer and Charlie, or Charlie and Al, or one of my ships

then you’ve doomed me

[majesticallyunmagestic]

Fuck

Okay, normally, I don't do this kind of thing, but I can not get it out of my head.

Carmilla said the best thing to kill an angel with is to fight for what you love. To fight for something you believe in. And that's what the whole gang does.

Charlie fights for her dream

Vaggie fights for Charlie

Angel and Husk fight for their friends

Lucifer fights for his daughter

Sir Pentious DIED for love and friendship

Guess who doesn't win in their fight?

Alastor can not comprehend dying for friends of all things. He was fighting for power he was fighting for freedom, and he lost his fight.

[firesidefantasy]

i could never let anyone i know read my writing. it is for too revealing in just about every possible way.