#aman ever after

[tanoraqui]

drunk Ecthelion, standing in a fountain at the Fall of Gondolin 7000th Anniversary party, soaking wet: I AM THE FOUNTAIN GUARDIAN, GUARDIAN OF THE FOUNTAIN!

Glorfindel, also drunk as a skunk: GOTHMOG QUIVERS BEFORE HIM!

Ecthelion: [points magnificently at a giant paper mache balrog] FUCK OFF!

[butch-rem]

"You just ship it because it's sapphic!"

Kronk voice: Well, you got me there.

[tyrannosaurustai]

My kins !! (I am mentally ill)

[hanako-san]

as kid

as adlut

[tanoraqui]

Elrond offering to pay gives Finwë the chance to loudly and firmly insist that he is paying, because it’s his birthday and he wants to celebrate by making a nice evening for all his favorite people. The warning hint of distress in his voice + Nerdanel grinding her heel down on Fëanor’s foot (she was already stepping on it) while Miriel gently clasps his arm + Indis making a discreet violent gesture at Elu (he’s seen her wield a quarterstaff) = Finwë pays with no more argument.

Maedhros, Curufin, Turgon, Aredhel and Aegnor make money betting that Finwë would win, and Caranthir, Curufin, Fingon, Turgon, Finrod and Galadriel make money betting that it would take more than 1 hour but less than 3. Maglor tries to argue his bet DID come true, that Elrond would step in and save the day, but everyone else shuts him down. Amras makes money betting that Nerdanel would break the heel of her shoe on Fëanor’s foot.

The scene:

We are, perhaps, in Arda Reborn. It is Finwë's birthday begetting day. He has brought many dear friends and relatives out for a festive meal at his favorite restaurant. Finwë said he was treating everyone, but after the server brings the check, both Fëanor and Elwë reach for it.

They each have a hand on the check.

They cannot turn to violence or use any other kind of force or even be openly hostile. Finwë is right there. He would be Sad. And on his birthday begetting day!

The grandkid generation has mostly left the table to watch the live entertainment. Fëanor could still theoretically call upon his sons to do… something, but depending on the assistance of his children to get a check away from Thingol is not something Fëanor is willing to do when Fingolfin is also right there.

Also that might cause a fuss which would make Finwë Sad.

Most of those still at the table are neutral, as in they aren't thrilled with the idea of Fëanor or Thingol making the evening 'from them'.

Nothing is at stake but pride.

And doing something nice for Finwë which he didn't ask for and doesn't need.

[randomidiocyncrazies]

Honestly... milgram project is fun bc you get to analyze the characters (and try to work out their "murder" + the circumstances surrounding it) AND you get to analyze the fandom as a bonus too

[tathrin]

Hey. Hey, do you ever think about the fact that if Legolas hadn't been stricken by the Sea-Longing, if he had still had "peace under beech [and] elm," he would almost surely not have gone to the Undying Lands until many, many years later, long after all his mortal friends were dead?

Do you ever think about the fact that if he hadn't heard those gulls, if he hadn't spent the whole length of Aragorn's reign plagued by the ache in his heart ever pulling him West, he wouldn't have gone until long after Gimli was dead, too? And Gimli would have surely never even thought about asking to go with him, if Legolas's heart wasn't being ever drawn away by that call; it simply wouldn't have been a thing that would have ever occurred to either of them, without the weight of the Sea-Longing hanging over them both for so many years.

Do you ever think about how the only reason they get to have their forever-ever-after happy ending on the other side of the Sundering Sea is because of the wound that the cry of those gulls lanced through his heart?

Because I do.

[kuromewos]

(100% based on my opinion) - Which MILGRAM characters would be royal or rebel

PS: I am bad with english and words, but I hope you guys still enjoying this shit

PS: Maybe it seems very stereotyped but keep in mind that it is how I see MILGRAM characters

Haruka Sakurai - Royal

Imo he seems to accept his destiny as somebody, according to himself, weak and pitful

Yuno Kashiki - Rebel

She is against of her naive girl "destiny"

Fuuta Kajiyama - Rebel

He would try to be a hero even though it is against his "destiny", tbh I just feel strong rebel vibes from him lol

Muu Kusunoki - Royal

This girl is 100% imo, maybe because she gives me super princess vibe and because of all this "queen bee" stuff

Like, she accept hers destiny of being the queen bee even though deep inside she feels like a crap

Shidou Kirisaki - Rebel

Even though he gimme major royal vibes, he didn't accept the destiny of his family dying and tried to go against it, even if it means taking away other people's lifes

Mahiru Shiina - Royal

Sorry, but I can't imagine her being a rebel, the strong desire of following the love tradition gimme royal vibes

Kazui Mukuhara - Rebel

He goes against what the others expected of him about his marriage

(Sorry my bad english again lol)

Amane Momose - Royal

She follows her destiny so bad by following hers family tradition even though it hurts her

Mikoto Kayano - Rebel (?)

Going against his destiny of stress because of his job, he tried to change it

Tbh this one is very hard because while I think Mikoto might be a royal, John and Midokoto gimme rebel vibes

Kotoko Yuzuriha - Rebel

Hmm... maybe she would goes against hers destiny by giving punishment to the criminals?

Ik she is 100% rebel, but I am not sure how to explain it sorry lol xD

[tanoraqui]

I've never heard of that "elves lose language in Mandos and have to re-learn it when they re-embody" before and I'm insane about it now. "Re-embody" i usually say, but this does make it "rebirth" in a big way. As discussed, language shapes the way you think, the person you are - to return to life without it, even in an adult body with all your memories, is to be born anew! And Elves would be so aware of this. I know studies about how language literally affects the way people think are overall more recent, but between the importance the characters and the text places on things like the Shibboleth of Fëanor and the Quenya ban, the fact that elves define themselves as "speaking people" ("Quendi"), and Tolkien's whole...everything...I think we can safely say that elves overall consciously consider language to be a key part cultural and personal identity, in a way we modern humans usually don't think about.

Which makes death so much more real for them, too, in a way men would recognize. If they lose language in Mandos and must regain it later, yes their essential spirit survives, their experiences and the self shaped by it...but how they relate to those experiences, how they define them, how they define themselves, can all be utterly changed when they re-enter the world. Is that not something like death as we know it? The best an elf could do to remain fully "themselves" is to seek out someone who spoke the same tongue they used to, same dialect, preferably similar lived experiences, but who never died and so has retained it purely; and re-learn language from that person. Does such a person even exist for every dialect of Elvish in Arda? I doubt it. And it's still not language as you knew it, but rather as Eldon from the woods next door knows it. On the opposite end, I'm sure there are elves who seek personal re-invention with their rebirth, who throw themselves gladly into the chance to relearn and redefine their experiences, grateful to not be quite the same person they once were.

And it would affect so much of how you treat people just returned from Mandos...

my friend, who listens to my constant speeches about the Silmarillion, just asked what language is spoken in Halls of Mandos, and I'm absolutely bewildered

[tanoraqui]

Lalwen caught everyone's attention by slamming a fresh wine bottle onto the center of the table.

"Alright, new game," she said. "'The Worst Thing I Ever Did To You Was...' It's like The Worst Thing I Ever Did, but it has to be specifically to someone else in this room, and you have to apologize for it. And you only get to drink if everyone else agrees that your apology was good enough."

Fingolfin raised one finger. "Point of order: what if you need to be drunker in order to apologize for something?" He didn't look at Fëanor, but his gaze was sliding around a bit, so in order to achieve this, he turned his entire head to the right.

"Tough luck," said Lalwen.

"Point of order," said Findis. "What if we don't want to play this one, either?"

"Then you have to sit here and endure it without getting to drink any more. Because - " Lalwen forestalled Fëanor's imminent query - "the door is still locked and no one is leaving until Family Game Night is over."

The boys all radiated rebellious pedantry, probably still not over how she'd lied to get them all here. But they didn't say anything, so Lalwen smiled brightly and said, "Great! I'll do an example to show you how it's done."

She retook her own chair, wobbling only a little as she moved from standing to sitting, leaned toward her youngest brother and said earnestly, "Ara, I'm sorry that I lied to you that Gil-galad was Fingon's son and your foster-great-grandson. It was politically expedient but essentially an orc move, and mostly I just did it because I was bitter at you for swanning in with all your golden armor and righteousness and optimism, when we had none of any of that. That was wrong of me. Also, obviously it fell apart as soon as he and his parents were all re-embodied."

Fëanor still had half a glass of wine from the now-lost bottle. He'd started slipping it slowly while glaring pointedly at Lalwen, to prove that he didn't need her stupid game.

He nearly spit it out.

"That's why a random half-blood became High King of the Noldor?" he demanded. "You just lied that he was part of the House of Finwë? And nobody challenged it?"

Lalwen was laughing too hard to answer. Findis was also laughing, more quietly.

"To be fair," Fingolfin offered, swallowing his own snicker in favor of loftiness, "from what the elf himself has told me, at the start of the Second Age, Galadriel, Elrond, and Celebrimbor between them could have crowned an unwoken tree High King if they'd all agreed on a candidate. Support from each of our lines, you know."

"Fëanor, how did you think Gil-galad became High King?" Finarfin asked curiously.

"I hadn't thought about it much - I've been busy, you know. I suppose I assumed he'd been elected, as we do now."

Fëanor tipped his head back to drain his glass, then rather slammed it down on the table. Yet again, the jewel-grade goblets proved themselves the right choice for the evening.

Lalwen could barely breathe for laughing. "No Noldor on either side of the Sea did that until nearly the end of the Second Age!"

Fëanor scowled.

Findis smiled serenely, and twisted the top off the new wine bottle. A melodious scent swelled forth of sweet grapes, bruised peaches, and warm summer sun.

"Well, that seems well-apologized to me." She refilled Lalwen's glass - though she paused before handing it back, and asked, "Ara?"

Finarfin nodded grandly, and for good measure took Lalwen's hand and kissed it. "We are well-reconciled, sister, and have been for many years."

"Good, good, gimme!" said Lalwen, grabbing at her well-deserved wine. "Ahh..." The Yavannandil wine was soft and soothing against her laughter-dried throat.

When she'd downed a good third of the glass, she gestured broadly and declared, "There! You see how it's done! Your turn!"

She pointed to Fëanor, then jabbed her finger at his chest. "And you're not allowed to say 'burning the ships', that's too easy."

[transselkie]

I am the only one who is right about Misa Amane.

[tanoraqui]

This almost certainly doesn’t make sense for my timeline, idk about yours, but…

“Celebrimbor, there you are! I’ve been looking for you all evening!”

Celebrimbor suppressed an urge to fight or flee at Fingon’s aggressively cheerful voice and the sudden hand on his arm. Unfortunately, this meant he froze instead, giving the former High King all the chance he needed to trap him between the parlor wall and a potted plant. Fingon was on the lithe side for a warrior of legend, but his sheer strength of presence more than made up for it.

It was many years since Celebrimbor flinched at a sudden touch, and many more since he…regularly…hid in a back room at house parties (was it his fault if people’s libraries were often more interesting than their guests?). But there was a glint in Fingon’s gaze which Celebrimbor associated with burning cities and wild, deadly charges, or at least with palace coups, and he had, in fact, been avoiding it all evening.

“I’m sorry to have missed you, then,” he said politely. “What can I do for you, Uncle?” It was an easier address than usual, with that fire in Fingon’s eyes. No, no, be forgiving; be optimistic: “Do you need a new blade for the upcoming Trials of Tulkas, or armor? I’ve been experimenting with a new alloy…”

“No—well, if you’re offering, please count me as a ready test subject,” Fingon allowed.

His hand tightened on Celebrimbor’s arm and he leaned in, lowering his voice. “But I’m more interested in discussing a treatise of yours which I recently read, in the Things The Valar Don’t Want Us To Know section of the University library…”

“If you wish to know of ring-craft, you must visit me in Caras Maenais,” he said, and feeling cornered, his heart beat doubly for a breath (I won’t tell you, I won’t!). He spoke smoothly over it. “No offense, but unless you’ve made a great study of jewelcrafting in secret, I fear that you’d need several practical demonstrations ere you understood—”

“Not that one,” Fingon interrupted and tugged him more fully behind the potted plant, out of view of anyone passing by in the hallway. “The other one. I have a question—”

“I don’t answer questions about the other one,” Celebrimbor said flatly. “I said in the foreword that I won’t answer questions about it.”

“Yes, but—”

“No.”

“I just need—”

“No.” Celebrimbor yanked his arm free and strode toward the door.

“Carnimírë’s haunted!” Fingon burst out.

Celebrimbor paused in the doorway, against his better judgement. He turned his head back.

“What?”

“Carnimírë’s haunted,” Fingon repeated, and began to pace like any anxious father. “At least, I’m almost entirely certain that’s what it is—I thought it was an imaginary friend, but then she pointed to one of Nerdanel’s statues and said, ‘That’s him, that’s my red elf’—that’s what she calls him, her ‘red elf’, red hair and red clothes—or armor—and red hands sometimes, or hand, except she only saw that once—the blood, not the hand, and Mirya says he said it was cloth dye—”

He turned to Celebrimbor with his own hands clasped in plea.

“It’s Russandol, Maedhros; Tyelpë, I swear it is. I’ve seen him too—in a crowd; I thought it was just grief playing tricks on me, but— But he won’t speak to me! He won’t even appear to me! I’m not sure he intends to appear to Carnimírë, but she’s too clever for him. And he stays… Is he trapped? Is he suffering? I’m sure he is, by his own thoughts if nothing else. Will you not help me summon him for good, and set him somehow straight?”

He trembled with distress for his loved ones, but still with that nearly-fell fire in his eyes, and a fierce hunger, and oh, Celebrimbor recognized all of that.

He’d been holding a wine glass this whole time, empty but for dregs. He placed it on a bookcase rather than break it.

“So you know of a spirit who it sounds like is doing no harm, despite a predilection for it, and you wish to entrap him and force him to speak to you? Words of weeping apology, of love? Do you wish to send him to Mandos against his will, or to bind him more permanently to your side?” He spread his hands in mocking offer. “I have more experience with the latter than the former, but I’m sure I can improvise if you insist, my lord!”

Fingon stepped back from the unexpectedly fierce reply. His fire faltered.

“It…sounds much worse when you put it like that.”

“Yes,” said Celebrimbor, flat once more.

“I would never bind Maedhros in any way he did not wish,” Fingon said vehemently. “Never again will I see him in chains, I have sworn it and I meant it.”

“Good start.”

“I just—” Fingon’s voice cracked on unshed tears—“want to see him again. Want to know that it’s him.”

Celebrimbor sighed, and shrugged, and re-collected his wine glass.

“I’m afraid I’m all out of advice for you, Uncle. Do whatever one usually does to summon wayward spouses—lay out some red meat and favored tools of his trade, and a work in progress which is obviously flawed but easily fixable? Or whatever usually works for you.”

Fingon laughed as though against his will.

“Thank you! I shall consider that most closely—it is the least I can do, for the trouble I’ve caused you this evening.”

It was no trouble at all, Celebrimbor did not say, lest he encourage more madness.

Reluctantly, driven by concern for his young cousin, he said, “If you ever have reason to think this spirit might be a danger to Carnimírë, you should seek aid from the Fëanturi.”

“No,” Fingon said with certainty. “It is Maedhros. I know it in my heart. He will not hurt her.” Then he shook his head, even in his furor too wise for such bald statements. “But if he does…yes, of course I shall, for he would wish it so as well.”

had the thought of Carnimírië Russingoniel with Maedhros's ghost. she can have a ghost dad. as a treat.

[ectoplasmer]

every time someone brings up how the yamis are supposed to be the “darker half” of their host and how they are meant to reflect/act on their deepest desires/thoughts/etc i think of monster world and just. crumble

[mommageto]

Domestic Hashira (Himejima Gyomei x Reader)

Title: Domestic Hashira (Himejima Gyomei x Reader)

Word Count:  2120 words

Description: (Y/n) and Gyomei navigating the unfamiliar territory of an arranged marriage. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

"He shall arrive shortly," Amane mumbled as she sat beside you. You took a deep breath and assured yourself that you had prepared yourself for this day. Being a distant relative of Kagaya Ubuyashiki, you were destined to marry and expected to produce an heir. Thus, you knew this marriage was not from a love match but rather an arranged marriage to ensure the heirs of your bloodline of any curses. Ever since you lost both of your parents at an early age, it did feel lonely, only having distant relatives around you. A part of you was nervous about meeting the man you to spend your life with. You were embellished with a beautiful wedding garment and patiently waiting for the man you are bound to marry. There were little to no expectations for your husband to be, but rather a kind man at the very least. 

The door opened, and Kagaya Ubuyashiki came in, followed by a huge man who towered at seven foot two, with spiky dark hair, and was covered with numerous crimson mala beads. A horizontal scar on his forehead and pale white eyes also allowed you to be surprised at the appearance of the man. "Shall we start with the ceremony?" Ubuyashiki asked. Both of them made their way near you. Ubuyashiki found his way to sit on the opposite side of Amane, as the stranger you ought to marry sat beside you. However, you noticed his manners as he acknowledged your presence by bowing to you as he was sitting beside you.

The man is enormous, very huge. This idea of him scared you a little, but you were not one to judge a stranger you were about to spend your life with. However, he was attractive and unfamiliar. After the ceremony, both of you exchanged a word with each other. Although Amane has filled you in with everything you need to know about your husbands. Himejima Gyomei–that is his name–is the stone hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps. Though you are an Ubuyashiki, you were least involved with the Demon Slayer Corps as you were a distant relative and did other duties for the family.

The information you got made you think that the man you married must be powerful as he is the strongest hashira. However, Amane never talked about how he is as a person; she focused on his qualifications, which only enabled you to hope that he is indeed a kind man.

Both of you were brought to your household to start your family. As you arrived at your shared home, you found it a bit awkward considering he is a stranger. Nevertheless, you were taught to be a wife and ought to pursue a conversation with him to properly tend to your husband.  The silence after you both spoke at the same time stretched, punctuated only by the chirping of crickets outside. You stole a glance at Gyomei, his face unreadable beneath the stoic mask. Clearing your throat, you decided to take the plunge.

"I–" both of you uttered and cut off each other. "I apologize. I didn't mean to interrupt. Please, go ahead," Himejima continues. A short silence occurred between the both of you. 

"Hiimejim–" he cuts you off before you can finish, "Gyomei. You can call me Gyomei." A light flickered in your eyes as you stared at him with awe.

"Gyomei," you repeated, testing the name on your lips. He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Shall we enter?" you ask him. He gave you a sly nod and led you to enter the house you shared with him first. As you entered, the servants greeted you both and toured you around your home. They also had prepared a separate bath for you and your husband before you met each other for dinner. 

In the bath, you pondered about the things you've observed to be quite beguiling about your husband. You admit to yourself that you feel attracted to Himejima. That man had intimidating features that portrayed a very masculine form of a man. Despite your first impression, you can tell that Himejima has a compassionate nature. He was kind and respectful to the servants who greeted you both earlier. There's still more you want to know about him, and getting to know him will surely scratch that itch. 

Dinner was served afterward in your bath. You and your husband finished your meal with a small conversation about how your meal was delicious. Though, the night is still long–or feels like it. Both of you entered the chambers of your shared bedroom. It felt awkward being alone with Himejima. Although both of you are married, both of you are also still strangers who barely met each other just this morning. You saw the bedding in the room, and it made you feel nervous about sleeping next to him, which caused you to breathe heavily, allowing the giant man to hear. "(Y/n) I could sleep in another room if it makes you feel better," you hear Himejima say.  

Himejima's offer hung in the air, heavy with unspoken words. On his face, you can see his genuine concern matched with the intimidating aura he always has. It was a gesture of respect, a recognition of your discomfort. "N-no… it's fine. You don't have to do that," you assured him.

The two of you settled on sleeping in the same room. Thus, peacefully set up your sleeping area not far away from each other but also not near each other. It was challenging to be asleep at that hour, as you were clouded with a number of emotions and new to this setup. The anxious feeling of sleeping with a man you just met today lingered in your thoughts. You didn't know what to do at this point but to sleep as it was getting late anyway. "Good night (y/n)."

"Good night, Gyomei." His words made you feel better as you still felt new to this situation. A simple good night makes you more comfortable with this arrangement. You got to sleep shortly after that. The dawn of time passed, and you heard noises and slightly opened your eyes, wherein you saw shadows. However, due to your thoughts depriving you of sleep the previous night, you gave in to yourself and slept through the dawn. 

As you rose from the bed, you noticed the room was tranquil. There was no sound of movement or the faintest whisper. You looked around your room and noticed that the bed beside you was nowhere to be seen. The absence of Himejima's towering figure was both comforting and unsettling. You went to the kitchen and were greeted by the servants who informed you that your husband was called on early for a mission. This made you feel disappointed because you wanted to get to know Himejima and spend time with him. 

The servants informed you that Himejima had to leave early for an urgent mission with a demon attack on a neighboring village. It's been three days without the presence of your husband near you. This made you feel lonely despite having people around your home. Not a day goes by that you do not have the same routine. After eating your breakfast alone, you decided to pay Amane a visit to ease that lonely feeling.

"(Y/n), how was your first night with Himejima-san?" she asks as she sits down beside you. You took a pause and tried to hold back from being honest with yourself. "It was alright, I was able to sleep comfortably after yesterday."

Amane was able to read the misery drawn in your face. She did not feel too good about this, so she questioned you more. "Are you sure it was alright? You seem to be tired and sorrowful."

"Oh, no, it's really fine." She wasn't convinced by your answer. "I hope Himejima-san was gentle, to say the least."

This shattered a glass of ideas. Amane was thinking of a different scenario for you to spend your first night with Himejima. "What? No! It's nothing like that. We didn't do it." You were defensive about it, and you could feel your face heat up despite it being just the two of you in the room.

The response you gave Amane surprised her. The idea of a newlywed couple spending the first night with each other in a venereal manner was pretty typical. Though you've never really thought about it yo,u and Himejima quickly dismissed that possibility rather quickly.

"(Y/n), have you and Himejima ever had an actual conversation about your marriage, to say the least?" Amane questions you. Now that question has been raised, you never really have thought about it. "We barely said a word to each other, and the other morning, he left for an urgent mission."

"Is that so? While I do not encourage you to force yourself on Himejima, you both should have a conversation about your marriage with him. Since you're gonna spend the rest of your life with him."

Amane's words struck your head from the moment she mentioned it to you until your journey home. One of the servants, Chiaki, approached to welcome you home. "Welcome back, my lady," she slightly bows, "Would you care to join Himejima-san for dinner?" 

Chiaki's words caught your attention. As you walked inside your house, you felt a sudden pain in your stomach and had an urge to vomit. Your vision was less clear–it was shaky. Another body pain hit you, you felt the pain reach your temples and your calves. However, you manage to get to the dining area.

The heavy wooden table creaked slightly under the weight of the untouched meal. You sat opposite Himejima with your face pale and drawn. You covered your mouth with haste as you felt the urge to vomit again. Himejima, with his other perfect senses, noticed that you didn't feel okay. 

"Is everything alright (y/n)?" he asks, trying to reach out to help you. Himejima could clearly tell that your body had collapsed on the ground. His robust frame moved with surprising speed as he reached you, his large hands gently cradling your head. Concern etched itself onto his face as he assessed your condition.

A throbbing pain pulsed in your temples, and a wave of nausea washed over you. Your vision blurred as consciousness slowly returned. With effort, your eyes opened, the world coming into focus gradually. You were in your bed, the soft glow of lanterns casting dancing shadows on the walls. Himejima was seated beside you, his face etched with worry. 

"Gyomei," you call out his name. "What happened?"

A relief from Himejima can be felt as he lifts his head with his softened face and relaxed face. "(Y/n), you're awake," he replied. "A demon followed you and attacked you secretly with its poison." Your head throbbed with a dull ache as you tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. You reached out a trembling hand to steady yourself on the bed.

"A demon?" you managed to croak out, your voice hoarse. 

"Yes, a demon. Thankfully, I was able to take home an antidote for the demon's poison." You listened to Himejima's words with an understanding, even though there was still a slight concern on his face. "I apologize that I got you into this trouble. Being married to me only caused you trouble." A wave of empathy washed over you as you watched Himejima's tears fall. Gyomei is known to be the strongest hashira with his immense strength. Still, at this moment, vulnerability replaced his usual composure.

"Gyomei," you reached out, your hand finding his, offering comfort. "It wasn't your fault. These things happen." Your voice was gentle, filled with sincerity. 

"It was also my responsibility for not being here to protect you," he explained, his voice husky with emotion. His grip on your hand tightened, conveying a depth of remorse you hadn't expected. "Well, we're here together now," you say to him with a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you try to lighten the mood.

"Let's start over, (y/n)," he reached out to you and kissed your forehead. A warmth spread through you as his lips touched your skin. It was a simple gesture, yet it held a profound weight. You returned his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. It felt like an answered prayer from a yearning heart. That forehead kiss is a lingering faith of the couple for their relationship to bloom.

This story has a Part 2.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Finals

Propaganda Under Cut

Sakura Haruno

Her husband is gay and her author doesn't know how to write women. So many people say she's the worst but she. DESERVES. BETTER!!! Save her from this franchise.

My baby girl my bestie my best friend. She committed the crime of um being written by kishimoto who both doesn’t know how to write women and somehow writes men in the gayest way possible specifically naruto and sasuke. Like the thing is naruto and sasuke ARE gay and also she gets so much hate for the crime of kishimoto writing her one dimensionally in love with sasuke. I know her personally she is a butch lesbian to me just trust me she’s in love with Ino and has a lesbian thing going on with Karin okay just trust me. My everything. She needs to divorce the loveless lavender marriage she’s in 

What is there to say, even? The OG Threat to my 90s anime brain, the only woman I've ever hated with such a passion she made me turn away from the color pink. I used to write fics with my friend where she got left behind on purpose so our OCs could join the Naruto and Sasuke team instead. I loathed this bitch until I was 16 and realized the author simply couldnt write women and decided it was time to make peace with Sakura. It is not her fault she's vaguely written and obsessive over Sasuke. She deserves better. Sasuke and Naruto still should be together and Sakura shouldnt be with Sasuke but I no longer believe this because I hate Sakura, it is because I love her. She deserves a spouse who will actually put in the time to treat her like the hero she is.

Misa Amane

she gets treated in-canon the way fandoms treat female characters that Threaten an m/m ship. it's like, "oh why don't you go sit in the corner and be pretty, misa, while the Men have intelligent conversation and pretend they aren't ten seconds from fucking each other, doesn't that sound nice?" it's infuriating. and MAYBE it's better now but i remember her getting treated the same way in fanfiction too, like we all need to do just as badly by our female secondary characters as fucking tsugumi ohba, but with the added insult of making her be alternately oblivious of the relationship between light and L or actively trying to sabotage it—incompetently, of course, because god forbid misa be allowed dignity or moments of cleverness.

she's one of the first characters I think of when I consider old school fandom misogyny. The annoying bitch and clingy crazy gf allegations were AFTER HER ASS. She's also a lot more intelligent than people gave her credit for, but most seem inclined to take the Very Biased word of our unreliable, narcissistic narrator and his homoerotic arch nemesis and claim that just because she's bubbly and into romance that she's also a complete moron. Which is blatantly untrue. Everyone was afraid of Misa girlbossing too hard. Killing people and devoting yourself to the deranged twink of your dreams even though you know he'll never love you back??? Having a hardcore goth aesthetic and being so Hot even literal Death Gods are into you?? God forbid women do ANYTHING!

Not only is she the victim of yaoi culture, she is the victim of early 2000s misogyny by an author that wanted to introduce a girl character because he knew his male rivals were getting too homoerotic. She is a goth bimbo icon who portrays what I think is one of the few callouts for stan culture and what parasocial relationships can do to both the stan and the idol. The fact that she is a toxic fan of Kira and also hot, funny, sociable is tragic in its own way, which I think the author did try to touch on but was too misogynistic too really get through. Of course, she was reduced to villain status by the fandom and anime alike because she got in the way of the supposed romance in their psychological horror anime

[tanoraqui]

#You can tell whether the artist has ever left Aman by how gruesome the hand is (@shrikeseams)

Courtesy of this post:

I can easily imagine a cultural situation post-First Age where the Noldor like to treat Fingon like a beloved martyr of the first age, and celebrate all of his achievements, but who ALSO want to pretend the Feanorians were never legitimate leaders and celebrated figures in their own rights. Which makes art of the Thangorodrim rescue fraught!

So they go with the obvious solution: a whole bunch of art where Fingon is holding a semi-anonymous severed right hand.