#made me cry a little

[aslibekroglu]

randomly went on a son yaz binge and then funda posts son yaz memories on her story. fate.

[meggifluous]

talk to me a little and ill tell you something nice

by kekebonkbrain

[clingylilhoneybee]

Need to be babied for a while

[idolomantises]

Man is it just me or are a lot of TV shows nowadays are written to have big emotional episodes in scenes with very little build up.

[littlelilikoi]

sail on, merry!

[illuminchim]

“He no longer believed in anyone, especially himself.”

Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 6.

This is the second part of this drawing

[rottenusedangel]

I just watched Gia and wow

[densewentz]

mmm not to be a solasmancer on main but im thinking about those few days after the Cole debacle if a solavellan Inquisitor encourages him to remain a spirit. just. Solas, watching her fret so much in the aftermath, terrified that she may have taken someone's choice away, worried that she influenced what Cole wanted somehow, watching her sheer relief and unbridled joy after Cole's, free and light and brimming with happy incredulity, "but you didn’t change, didn’t make me change. Thank you". He watches her, and thinks of Mythal. Thinks of devotion, and abuse. Regret. Thinks of Cole, and spirits and Wisdom and Pride- Thinks, wistfully, achingly, "in her hands, I might have been safe".

[ralefaelle]

POV you and your bff did something dumb

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[yooboobies]

yoongi making everything better by being pretty and having long black hair | for @magicshop

{cr.0613data}

[nextstopparis]

you know how in 5.13 arthurs like “i tried to take your head off with a mace” and merlins like “and i stopped you, using magic” and arthurs immediate reply to that is “you cheated” … and i guess i was just thinking about the breathy little laugh merlin lets out in response to that. bc like i just noticed how maybe it was a little bit of relief and awe. because like. he just talked to arthur. about magic. about using magic From The Beginning. against him in a fight. and arthurs immediate response, his most natural reaction to that, was to comment on merlins poor sportsmanship. out of anything he couldve said something about. the first thing that came to mind was merlin not playing fair. which. idk. IDK!!!

[black-and-yellow]

The walk home from UA

[lost-in-fandoms]

"Tell me again."

Max hums, moving his hand in slow circles along Daniel's back, feeling his chest move against his side, his face hidden in the folds of Max's t-shirt.

He bows his head, pressing a kiss against Daniel's hair, shifting against the hotel's pillows until he's comfortable again.

"It's going to be sunny," he says, voice low, letting Daniel's curls tickle his lips and nose. "It's going to be sunset, orange, the trees all golden in the way you like."

Daniel's back shifts under his hand, his fingers twisting in Max's shirt.

"We'll be sitting in chairs, because you have old man knees, and would complain about sitting on the floor."

He twists away from the halfhearted poke in his side, then settles back.

"They will be those garden ones, the ones with the straw?"

"Wicker," Daniel corrects him softly, voice scratchy.

"Yes, wicker." He tugs Daniel even closer, not knowing how it is even possible. "With pillows, so you can curl in them like a little cat."

He smooths his hand down Daniel's back, like he does with Sassy, when she stretches out beside him on the bed, similar to how Daniel is now. Does it again when he feels Daniel's shoulders uncurl slightly.

"We will be drinking your weird beers, the expensive ones that taste worse than all the others."

"Craft beer isn't weird," Daniel argues, just like Max was expecting him to. He sounds like there's something stuck in the back of his throat, and Max kisses his hair again.

"It is weird, Daniel. Beer does not need to be that expensive."

He gives him space to reply once more, but Daniel doesn't.

"We will drink your weird beer, and we will talk about that time we ate pasta in your hotel room."

It wasn't just one time, but Max knows he doesn't need to specify. They're both thinking about the same one, illegal spaghetti ordered from room service, hidden from their trainers, sauce on the corner of Max's mouth, cleaned by Daniel's thumb first, Daniel's mouth later. And even if they aren't thinking about the same, it doesn't matter. Every plate of pasta shared, in every hotel room, would matter just as much, stepping stones in their story, just as important as that first kiss.

"And it will be rainy," Max continues, voice even lower. His t-shirt is damp, stretched by Daniel's tense fingers. Daniel's back is shuddering, even when he holds him closer and closer and closer.

"It will rain, and you will have a blanket, because you always get cold, even more when it is humid."

The thing that was in Daniel's throat is in his too now.

"We will talk about how stupid everyone was. We will say it was all unfair. But we will not be angry anymore, because it will not matter anymore."

Daniel's hair smell like Max's shampoo, even if he usually doesn't use it, because he hates how dry it makes it feel. Max can taste salt on the back of his throat as he shifts his head slightly, trying to at least keep his ears dry, now that his cheeks are a lost cause.

Daniel's breathing is a stuttered rhythm against his ribs.

"We will cook eggs," Max pushes on, pressing every word against Daniel's skin, hoping every one feels like the i love you that it is. "Because we will have chickens on your farm, like a real farm, so we will be good at cooking eggs. And you will drink your wine, and sing your songs."

His voice breaks, sudden betrayal, just as Daniel trembles in a sob, but Max pushes through. They've both always known how to push through.

"And I will ask are you happy and you will say yes," he says, making it sound like a promise, because it is a promise. "And we will not regret any of it."

He knows they won't. Not the angry moments, not the painful moments, not the annoying little moments they will never even remember. They will take all of them and throw them into the jar of their lives, little pebbles, and colorful marbles, and shards of glass smoothed out with time and love and distance, all mixed together.

"We will sit on your chairs, and they will have nothing, and we will have us."

He holds Daniel closecloseclose, because he's never learned how to let go of the things he cares about, has always clung to things with his teeth and desire bared, and he has no intention of starting now. He has no intention of starting ever.

Even if this is not the way he wanted things to happen, he doesn't believe in letting go, especially when it comes to Daniel.

He swallows, clears his throat to try and dislodge the tight knot of feelings there, raises a hand to swipe his thumb along Daniel's wet jaw.

"We will have chickens, and a garage full of dirt bikes, and I will ask Grace to teach me how to make the pasta sauce you spilled all over the carpet when you were five."

Daniel nods against his chest, fingers relaxing. His breathing is still uneven, Max's t-shirt is still damp, but he can feel him going lax against him, relaxing bit by bit.

"We will," Daniel murmurs, voice shaky enough it sounds closer to a question.

"We will," Max tells him, firm. Would be happy to tell him again and again, until Daniel's voice doesn't shake on it anymore. "We will eat so much food, and we will become fat, and we will be happy. We will."

Daniel nods again, then shifts, wiggling in Max's hold until he can properly climb on top of him, pointy elbows planted on the bed, above Max's shoulders, trembling fingers tracing the wet lines on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes soft.

When Daniel kisses him, they both taste like salt, exhaustion and the future.

[barawrah]

happy birthday my darling

[sun-snatcher]

Elrond headcanons I’ve made that keep me up at night:

i. Elros was the older twin by 2 minutes.

Maedhros and Maglor discerned as such, being brothers themselves, and what with the way the little twins reacted whenever they got into trouble and mischief. 

Elrond might have been the more stubborn between the two, yes, but Elros was the courageous one; some innate elder-brother instinct Maglor could recognise Maedhros in: first to face the burden of punishment and last to lay it down. 

Elrond always dreaded those mere minutes, because it meant he was eternally 2-minutes behind Elros, and because it lent his brother a leverage against him throughout the years they endured growing up together. But he’d only truly dreaded it the most, years after, when Elros had chosen the mortal path.

He had counted the 2 minutes after Elros had died, and then wept as he placed a kiss on his forehead; because, after all these years: 

“At last, Elros, my dear brother, I have finally caught up to you.”

ii. Elrond untintentionally made Círdan (the wisest, stalwart, and most steadily composed of all living Elves) weep full tears over a poorly folded Leaf-boat.

This was at the atelier, in the aftermath of High King Gil-Galad’s funeral rites, where they talked and talked until the sun went down the horizon. Elrond could hardly sit still— an endearingly Mannish trait, Círdan learned early on— and that’s how the Shipwright ended up teaching the Herald how to fold boats out of a banana leaf.

“Oh, dear,” it had started on the first attempt, with Elrond showing him the sad-excuse of a boat, fraying in its green edges, “Show me again, Master Círdan, how do you do it! My craft will surely sail to no shore.”

Then Círdan laughed, because “Indeed, surely, that will hardly survive a ripple, Elrond,” and then his eyes welled with tears, and he bent his head down, and suddenly he found himself crying, unable to stop at all.

He hadn’t wept this hard in Ages.

“Ah, come now, let me show you,” he sniffled, hands trembling as he meticulously corrected the little flaws of the boat. “Forgive me. Artanáro— Ereinion— I remember teaching him too, when he was but knee-high and knew naught but how to scatter sunshine wherever he went. Your boat looks as pitiful as his first try! And, why, for a moment, I—”

He didn’t continue, because there was no need to. 

“Oh, I miss him already, Elrond. How I miss him!” he’d cried. “My dear Ereinion. My darling, dearest boy.”

iii. When at last Legolas finally completed his ship and left with Gimli from Edhellond, crossing the Bay of Belfalas— they had come across a lone, folded leaf boat, bright green and drifting unmoored across the silver crests and falls of Belegaer.

Gimli peered portside (while standing on a box) to point it out. “See there, Legolas! That’s one of them Elven leaf boats, aye? How long has it wandered adrift, you reckon?”

“Long indeed!” Legolas smiled. “Elven leaves are sturdy and crafted to endure. This one was set purposely upon these waters to sail, it seems.”

“A tribute,” the Dwarf mused, eyeing the blown-out candle cradled in its heart. “This far out?”

The elf gazed keenly, South-west upon the distant blue horizon. “Why, perhaps, to the memory of the great star-lit isle of Númenor.”