#eru writes

[eruhatesu]

look idc if people wanna hc gojo as a whore or whatever but im a big truther of gojo and utahime losing their v cards together, and mostly in a "no strings attached" sense but later they form a very close bond beyond friendship ^^

wwwwwww it was a one drunken night :3 Utahime will always deny it happened when theyre around friends but Shoko and Mei-san knew... oh fr they knew bc she was drunk texting them that night before something happened

[slight nsfw beyond the cut]

Hc: Gojo has graduated from Jujutsu tech and has gone back to the Gojo clan as he should. A year later, Utahime just beginning her life of teaching...saw a tall figure visiting the Kyoto campus. She was just about about to leave and couldnt recognize at first but when that bunch of white hair peeked under his umbrella she knew exactly. Like a muscle memory, she went to greet him. His eyes looked angry, eyebrows almost knitting but she could see how his face lit up into a teasing smile when he heard her voice calling his name "Gojo".

She knew he was so done with whatever business he has with his clan and the school so without thinking she basically stole him from his entourage for a dinner and beer on a cheap yakiniku downtown. Her treat she says ! She got her first salary. It's not much but she mumbles "I enjoy it".

Few more pints and theyre walking back to her apartment. Struggling with every step with her orientation skewed reaching her door, they both couldn't leave each other's lips. They've done this countless times but there was this warmth below asking her for something more. With the hint in her turn and bend of her hips, his fingers went on to her clothed core to provide anything she would ask him to.. it took a while but now she has unlocked the door. A smile on his face while kissing her sent more warmth down below...she knew she fucked up but that's a problem for tomorrow.

#eru writes #ask eru #anon! #gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime

[erughostcat]

Chapters: 2/4 Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kujou Sara/Sangonomiya Kokomi Characters: Kujou Sara, Sangonomiya Kokomi, Gorou - Character, Raiden Ei | Baal, Yae miko, Kamisato Ayaka, Kuki Shinobu Additional Tags: Kujou Sara-centric, Fluff, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Gay Disaster Kujou Sara, (shes a little gay for all the women in Inazuma but can you blame her?), a handful of bg ships such as eimiko, Please help me Ms.Hina, Pining, Sharing warmth, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Fatui Plots, Canon Compliant as of 3.0, internalized ableism, mild PTSD, the fic where everyone gets a damn hug because they deserve it, Humor

  Summary:

“…Personal aspirations? It's not something I have ever thought about before…”

In the aftermath of the Vision Hunt Decree, Kujou Sara is forced to take her fate into her own hands: She can no longer trust the person–- the weapon– Kujou Takayuki forged her to be. For the first time in her life she needs to answer the question of what she really wants for herself. Despite everything, Sanognomiya Kokomi becomes a source of comfort to the weary Shogunate General while they collaborate on projects to help unify their people. Along the path to redemption and reformation, Sara finds friendship in unlikely places as she pours her efforts into the peace talks and protecting all of Inazuma from lingering Fatui threats.

Chapter 2 is up!!! 

#chapter 2!!! is up!!! #genshin impact #kokosara #kujou sara #sangonomiya kokomi #eru writes #no seriously i write. this thing is at 46k words now haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[cilil]

Of Faith and Folly

AN: I wrote this due to random inspiration and to get some negative feelings out. Please heed the warning; nothing super egregious happens, but I know it can be triggering for people who deal with abusive family members.

ഒ Characters: Manwë & Eru ഒ Synopsis: Eru scolds Manwë after the Valar decide to bring the Elves to Valinor for safety. ഒ Warnings: Abusive parent ഒ Short oneshot (~600 words)

"So you have brought the Children to Valinor, Son." 

Manwë lifted his gaze skyward when he heard his father's voice in his mind, smiling. "We have." 

Why?" There was an edge to his tone. The serene, bright blue of Manwë's eyes became clouded, and he looked confused. 

"Because we feared that Melkor might continue to harm them." 

"And what folly, pray tell, made you believe that you know better than the grand plan? Do you now believe yourself wiser than to have faith in my designs, as I taught you?" 

Manwë's smile faded, and he flinched instinctively. "Father, forgive me, I thought this was part of the plan." 

"You err." Eru didn't sound as furious as he had been when Melkor had attempted to ruin the music, but his voice was cold. "Did you think that I would let him destroy all of my firstborn Children?"

"No, Father." 

"Then where was your faith in me? Even if your kin may at times stray and be faithless, I know I taught you better." 

Manwë felt his fána shrink. "I know, Father. I merely thought–" 

"My will I put into your heart always. Had you truly listened, you would have known better." 

"Yes, Father." He fell to his knees, trembling. Eru had never been this angry with him, mildly irritated at most when he had made mistakes as a young spirit. Anger had been Melkor's emotion, both to display and to evoke within others, while Manwë was met with the same love and joy he showed others in abundance. 

"Do you want me to rectify our mistake?" he offered. "We may yet make it right -"

"No." Eru's judgement came quickly and with grave finality. "I have spoken through Námo already. A decision has been made, and so it is doomed. All ills that shall befall your land in the future will be your burden to bear. May you listen well to me next time and find greater wisdom in it, so that you may in the end atone for your error." 

The weight of his presence was lifted from Manwë's ëala, and he found himself still on his knees, crying and shaking. What had he done? Why hadn't Eru spoken to him earlier? Hadn't he promised him that everything would be good and right in the end through his grace? Was all of that null and void now because he had been disobedient, even though he hadn't meant to? What was he going to tell the other Valar?

And why was he so afraid?

Manwë wrapped his wings around himself. He loved his father. He adored everything about him. So he had been raised, so he had been taught. Nothing bad or evil would ever befall him if he only had enough love and faith. 

(Melkor had always been the exception to this, admittedly, refusing to love him back no matter how hard Manwë tried to win his affection, but Eru had told him that his brother was a failure and not to fret.)

He was still afraid. 

And if any of the others found him like this he would have to make excuses or explain. Manwë forced himself to rise, wiped his tears and restlessly tugged on all muscles in his face until his expression had returned to his usual serene smile. 

Eru had told him that he had to see it through to the end now, and if he tried hard enough, maybe he could still make things right. He was hesitant to think that way, scared that he might once more evoke his father's ire by trusting his own convictions, but for the sake of everyone else he had to try. 

And despite everything, he still looked forward to welcoming the Elves in his realm.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @urwendii

#manwe #manwë #manwe sulimo #eru #eru iluvatar #valar #ainur #silmarillion #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #cílil writes #my writing #tw abuse

[curiouselleth]

Be He Foe or Friend: Silmarillion choose your own adventure fic!

How Can We Heal?: Finrod in the Halls of Mandos, but the Halls are kinda torture and super traumatic.

Veil of Starlight: Elured and Elurin survive and Elured is Gil-galad.

What We Became: from the wolfmadness AU. The blood of Sauron's wolves drives people mad. Sauron experiments with the little king who dared to challenge him (Finrod).

Requested fic; was initially requested about 2 weeks ago, just started writing it.

Raistlin is Eru: crackfic, exactly what it sounds like, Raistlin destroyed the world, got a second chance to make a new one. He is Eru, and I saw some interesting connections between Raistlin's past and actions and possible Eru motivations and they blended and made sense lol.

Redeemed Sauron encounters re-embodied Finrod & Celebrimbor one-shot: this one is just what it sounds like lol

Powers AU: as soon as the Noldor re-unite in beleriand the start developing powers, powers based off of their experiences, skills, and environments. Nothing super flashy - except when they first appear and in times of distress and such. So most Noldor who burned the ships get fire powers, and most who crossed the helcaraxe have ice, cold, or water powers. Right now I think I'll have about 1/6 of the elves NOT get powers, for no particular reason.

Feanor!Curufin: Feanor dies, doesn't know if Amrod survives or not, and begs and begs the valar and Namo to let him return to try to save them, and fix his mistakes. Finally they relent, with conditions. But by then it has been a long time, and he is sent back to the second kinslaying into Curufin's body as he dies. One of the conditions; he cannot straight-out tell anyone he is Feanor.

High King Finrod: what it sounds like, Finrod survives, goes to Balar, when Gondolion falls he becomes High King because Gil-galad is too damn young for this. Particularly focusing on when the hosts of Valinor and Finarfin arrive. I need the angst and shock and horror.

Finrod at the first kinslaying: so much more angst then it says on the tin. He is there, protecting the Teleri. Just protecting. Not fighting back offensively. He encounters Caranthir, but Caranthir is blind with the rage of battle. And nearly kills Finrod, before Aegnor and Angrod arrive and beat him back, rescuing Finrod. Finrod almost dies. Then when he is fighting Sauron, Sauron's spells do not just re open trauma and mental wounds. But that one.

Morgoth Wins AU: There is A Lot here. I wrote 1336 words just summarizing what I want in it. But it starts with Morgoth offering the Feanorians a deal they can't refuse. And cities fall by their sword on his behalf. *slaps fic idea* this bad boy can fit SO much angst in it.

#poll #my writing #about my writing #fic #fics #fic ideas #fanfic ideas #polls #poll about my writing #be he foe or friend #bhff #veil of starlight #vos #elured is gil galad #what we became #wolfmadness au #raistlin is eru #redeemed sauron #powers au #feanor!curufin #high king finrod au #finrod at the first kinslaying au #morgoth wins au #my poll #my polls #silm fic #silmarillion fic #my fic #my fanfic #silm fanfic

[forerussake]

Title: (extra)ordinary Rating: Gen Characters: Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan, Jiajia, Li Qian, OCs Relationships: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan, Shen Wei & his students

Summary:

Li Qian has never seen anything like it. It is extraordinary. He is extraordinary. or, five times when Shen Wei’s students think there is something strange about their professor, and one time when he’s just startlingly human.

#shen wei #zhao yunlan #weilan #guardian #fanfiction #my writing #eru writes fic #沈巍 #赵云澜 #巍澜 #镇魂

[eruhiroo]

Semakin dewasa, semakin terbiasa.

Terbiasa menikmati kesedihan tanpa adanya sandaran.

Terbiasa meredakan amarah tanpa adanya rayuan.

Terbiasa mengobati resah tanpa ada yang menenangkan.

Terbiasa mengusap tangis tanpa adanya pelukan.

Terbiasa memeluk diri sendiri tanpa adanya lengan.

Nyatanya; berjalan sendirian yang kamu pikir sangat berat dan melelahkan itu bisa juga kamu lewati dengan sedikit senyuman.

"Kita punya Tuhan, yang akan selalu menguatkan."

#thoughts #selfreminder #writing #eru

[lamemaster]

Dismembered Memory- Chapter 2

Pairing: Iluvatar x Reader

Genre: Mystery , romance and mythology

Summary: Do the Gods love? What is it like to love one? What is it like to be loved by one? Is it a love beyond the shackles of creation and destruction or is it a tragedy bound in the chains of duty and predestination.

AN: A shorter chapter as we dwell into the arc. This is very much a me project so chapter word count will be rather inconsistent.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2| Chapter 3|

The world is woven with the threads of yearning—yearning for creation, yearning for love, yearning for companionship, yearning for beauty or legacy. Reasons as diverse as the stars. It is this relentless desire for anything and everything that catalyzes the very origin of existence.

However, creation necessitates substance—a canvas on which to paint its journey.

Iluvatar's recollection doesn't encompass you. He doesn't possess the fragments of your memories, yet you remain an inseparable fragment of his essence. Analogous to matter, which underpins creation, you are an existence that entwines his thoughts, an ethereal presence encircling his eternal song. Connected to him yet apart, a paradox of unity and division.

He glimpses fragments of you through the eyes of his Ainur, those beings birthed from his own mind. A silent observer, he never truly encounters you, and you, in your existence, never seek him. The weight of your absence gnaws at him ceaselessly, a persistent ache embedded within every living moment.

Time turns into an eternity as Iluvatar mourns the gulf that separates you from him. He replays the fleeting glimpses of your presence, those wisps caught through the eyes of Manwe and Melkor. Perhaps fated, your connection with him remains unknown. However, such a state is destined to change. It evolves, it shifts, and it transforms.

A pivotal moment arrives when the distant creator of the cosmos is irresistibly drawn into his own creation. Iluvatar crosses the threshold into Arda, compelled by an irresistible force—you. He treads upon the earth he formed, a wanderer amidst the very world he sculpted. The trappings of his divinity take a backseat as he pursues an entity he can barely remember. The symphony of creation fades, and the unattainable brilliance of his godhood diminishes. All is surrendered for the sake of finding you.

He journeys endlessly, traversing the landscapes of Arda in search of any traces of you. The loss of his divine status and the adversities of the world pale in significance as the very land of Arda draws him closer to you. You must be here, in some form or another. The architect of the world becomes a wanderer within it, adopting a form akin to that of his own children, in the hope of finding you among them.

No callouses on his feet, no storms, no heatwaves can impede his quest. He presses forward relentlessly, compelled by an unquenchable yearning. He must find you, and nothing can deter him.

For Iluvatar, the loss of his godhood and the trials of Arda itself become inconsequential when the very land he shaped brings him ever closer to you. You, a presence he can barely recollect, but a presence that he cannot relinquish. He walks the world, shedding his divine mantle, forsaking the celestial music that once defined him. All for the sake of you, the missing piece of his existence.

“I will be gone for a while this time.”

Melkor gazes intently at your misty form, his expression a mixture of concern and longing. "Gone where? How long?" The questions escape him, his heart racing in the expanse of the barren void. His mind echoes with an unspoken plea—don't go. Unbearable panic threatens to consume him, the idea of being left alone in this desolate Void unfathomable. Would you, too, leave him like so many before? The thought looms, the talons of the cruel void threatening to seize his very consciousness. Without you, he fears he would be lost.

A soothing sensation envelops him as you crouch before him, your presence a gentle reassurance. Your palms cradle his face with an almost ephemeral touch, and he finds solace in your touch. "I'll be gone for some years, but I'll be back. I promise you." The words carry a weight of sincerity that Melkor can't deny. He knows how well you stay true to your promises.

"Why must you leave?" He voices the question that fills the silence, a sense of shame creeping in as he realizes he wants to stop you, to prevent your departure from his life. The idea of being without you claws at him, a fear he can scarcely admit.

"The song of the world has called me, and I must respond." He observes the faint outlines of your features, your nimble fingers and the glimmer in your eyes that pierce through the mist. "There is someone who looks for me in Arda, and I…" Your words falter, as if grappling for expression. "I must answer their call."

Curiosity intertwines with jealousy within Melkor's heart. Who could be so important that you would leave him behind? "Who is it?" The question slips out before he can fully process it, ages of resentment and bitterness simmering beneath the surface. Who could possibly mean more to you than he does?

“I do not know who it is, but I must meet them. To alter the course they tread," you remain seated, unwavering in your resolve. "I have managed to push the encroaching Void farther this time. It shall maintain its grasp while I am absent, but should challenges arise," your hands take on solidity, cradling a clear glass ball—a marble, a vessel of contained power. "Use this to harness its malevolence. It shall provide aid in times of dire need."

As Melkor's fingers connect with the cool surface of the glass marble, he cannot help but be awed by your form, by the intricate complexity that you embody. "Someone very dear to me once possessed this," you caution, your words laden with warning as you place the artifact in his grasp.

The marble rests in his hands, a tangible token of your existence. Melkor holds it close, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of your presence, even as it begins to wane. "I will await your return," he murmurs, his words carrying a sense of longing.

This time, as your form fades, he can discern the faintest traces of your features—your eyes, your lips, your nose. The cold touch against his forehead lingers as his mind succumbs to a tranquil slumber.

General Cerdic had weathered countless battles for his king, leading campaigns on bloody battlefields and through uncharted territories. His prestige and the respect of his kingdom's people were well-earned and well-deserved.

However, the man of valor did not inhabit sprawling cities or grand palaces like the king's favored. Instead, Cerdic found his abode in an isolated village, a place where his gallant feats were mostly unknown. He rarely ventured beyond the village's bounds. It was here that he had last held his wife, welcoming their only child into the world.

A modest wooden house provided the backdrop for the years he spent raising his daughter. None could have been more inviting than this homely dwelling. Shielded from the clamor of the world, Cerdic raised you in this tranquil village.

The machinations of palaces and the cunning games of power never encroached upon the life of the general's cherished daughter. Both of you found contentment in the simplicity of life. Days were filled with the routine of tending to a humble farm, and nights were spent dining under the serenity of the stars.

But everything changed when he entered your life—a man dressed in tattered clothes, bearing the weight of his hardships in every step he took. You discovered him by the riverside, his body marked by the brutalities of slavery. His matted hair carried the grime of an existence you couldn't fathom.

"What is your name?" you inquired, met with incoherent murmurs. As you knelt to examine the stranger, your attention was drawn to his clenched fist.

Within his grasp lay a delicate cotton flower, untouched by the filth that marred the rest of his form.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #eru iluvatar #iluvatar x reader #soulmate au #ansgt #fun to write #happy ending ??? maybe

[massivewonderlandtragedy]

I tell you the pain of trying to explain to my friends, family or ANYONE for that matter of fact that the Silmarillion is basically the friggin Bible behind Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit...

How Middle Earth came to be, the Valar, Eru, how certain creatures came to exist, good versus evil, why an elf spontaneously combusted into flames, a guy who was cursed by basically Satan and then proceeded to have sex with his sister, kinslaying/ genocide, a bucket load of grief, tears and existential crisis for practically all characters involved, and finally, why fighting over three "infinity stones" (as my best friend puts it) caused about half of the above to occur. FOR GODS SAKE THIS IS JUST FROM THE TOP OF MY HEAD!!!

...and all this just to explain why a piece of jewellery needs to be thrown into some lava...

...Life is pain

#silmarillion #opinions #opinion #eru iluvatar #manwe #feanor #my thoughts #thinking #late night thoughts #melkor #lotr shitpost #lotr #the hobbit #the silmarillion #sauron #middle earth #tolkein #tolkien elves #my blog #writing #tolkeinfan #jrr tolkien #lotr fandom #silmarillion fandom #ainur #valar

[aroace-moron]

While I get the angsty beauty of drawing or writing Maedhros finding Fingons dead body, imagine a canon accurate approach.

Maedhros finding the swamp his cousin has been turned into. Imagine him repeling a blow, stumbling backwards, and slipping.

Imagine him falling and landing with a wet quelching sound.

Imagine something crunch under his hands when he tries to push himself up.

Imagine something blue catching his eyes when he is almost standing again.

There is a ripped banner, poking up from the bloodsoaked ground, something thin and golden sticking to it, almost artfully.

A dragon roars behind him.

He barely hears it.

#i am a fucking menace #eru i need to write a full fic hang on #i had to hold myself back from writing more #*demonic laughter* #silmarillion #maedhros #fingon #russingon #though this works just fine if you don't ship them #obviously #gore #nirnaeth arnoediad

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Crime of passion

So, to finish February...The pseudo-crime-story :D

Words: 2.3 k

Characters: Angbang (Melkor x Mairon)

Prompt: Meeting the family

The first thing Mairon noticed about Melkor was how cleverly he was cheating at cards.

No, that was a cowardly lie; the first thing he had ever noticed was how frighteningly and unconventionally handsome that man was, and it was only after being thoroughly mesmerised by his breath-taking deportment that Mairon–unable to detach his curious, intelligent gaze from the other patron–had caught on to the sleight-of-hand and the affable smile accompanying it.

In his trade, he had, of course, met his fair share of thieves and robbers of all classes and thus he was not overly fazed by the fact that even amongst the most notable peers of the realm one inevitably stumbled upon a few rotten apples.

Indeed, had Lord Melkor–renowned and fabled even in these halls of hushed excellence—been but a common crook, Mairon would have been able to deplore his unlucky taste in potential partners in silence and drown his temporary sorrow in a glass of first-class scotch.

Unfortunately for that discreet P.I., Melkor seemed to swindle his companions for the thrill of it rather than for any gain as he generously paid his plundered comrades’ drinks with as much glee and enthusiasm as he exhibited while defrauding them.

“I have noticed your particular and pointed interest in my dealings tonight,” a low, rumbling voice resounded behind Mairon’s armchair just as he was about to open a letter he had received earlier that day and which he had stowed away in his waistcoat pocket for later perusal. “May I ask if I can be of any assistance?”

Mairon’s bright, shrewd eyes flew up but his hands did not still on the paper he was in the process of meticulously tearing open.

“I should not think so,” he gave back in his sharp, impatient tone; no matter how fascinated he had been with the stately and yet lithe demeanour of the other man, he would not be goaded into a dangerous fling with one of the most powerful men in the land.

“Let me buy you another drink,” Melkor drawled, already waving an indolent but authoritative hand at a passing waiter. “I have seen you here before, but I’ve never had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

“Being part of the same gentlemen’s club does not necessarily mean that one frequents the same social circles,” Mairon replied not without a hint of bitterness; he had been born for great things, he was sure of it, but hitherto, he had clawed himself up the steep, slippery ladder of society by the skin of his teeth.

“So you know who I am, good,” Melkor grinned, grabbing the letter in Mairon’s hand quickly and inspecting it. “A private investigator? How charming…and tempting. Tell me, good man, do you enjoy a proper mystery?”

Cocking one eyebrow, Mairon waited in dignified silence while his senses and his impossibly quick mind took stock of the gentleman sitting in the armchair facing him.

Melkor was a tall man of an undeterminable age with long, dark hair and bright, sparkling eyes that almost seemed violet in the dim light of the fireplace in the corner of the room; far from being insipidly “pretty”, he possessed a wild, intimidating, rough beauty that commanded respect and inspired awe, and–judging by the cocky, lopsided smile he flashed Mairon now–he was more than aware of that.

“Why don’t you come up to the House this weekend?” Melkor purred under his breath, leaning closer and batting his lashes at Mairon invitingly. “There is always a mystery or two to solve there. Something is lost. Something is stolen. Something is destroyed. It bores me to death, but–if you were to come and play–it might even be fun.”

Long training and an almost feline disposition for calm observation helped Mairon in keeping his face expressionless with the exception of a tiny twitch of the corners of his mouth.

“Indeed,” he then muttered and, retrieving his letter, returned the missive to his pocket unopened. “I am most intrigued. Are you inviting me to solve a crime you are sure will happen? Are you the perpetrator then?”

“Sometimes,” Melkor admitted good-humouredly, “even though I will say that the others do not need my aid to make a proper mess of things. You’ll see. Do come up and enliven the mausoleum of my father’s fossilised dreams, yes?”

When he extended his hand to Mairon, a sleek, black card had materialised between his strong, broad fingers.

“I’ll think about it,” Mairon conceded and tucked the card away alongside his letter without so much as looking at it once.

“I can’t wait to see you there,” Melkor smirked, radiating with confidence and good cheer. “So long, old chap, so long.”

Having risen through the ranks at a dizzying speed, Mairon felt just a shiver of apprehension travel down his spine as he stood at the foot of the broad marble steps leading up to the main entrance of the sprawling estate he had been invited to.

Even now as he made his way to the heavy door and closed his long, sensitive fingers around the ponderous brass knocker, he was not entirely sure why he had come. Usually, he was not one for social games; he preferred to be regarded–and feared–for his ruthless competence and his uncanny ability to wrestle even the most chaotic of facts into a neat arrangement that revealed the hidden meaning of the whole picture.

Failing to restore order, Mairon had been known to threaten, bully, and manipulate people into betraying themselves in their flustered state of nervous upheaval; he was not a saint, but he was exceptionally good at his job which made his superiors turn a blind eye to his less orthodox habits and techniques.

“Ah,” Melkor gently pushed the pale young woman opening the door out of the way and took Mairon by the elbow to steer him into the bowels of the house. “I am delighted that you have come. Meet the dramatis personae!”

With a flourish, he threw open the heavy double doors at the end of a long corridor containing some of the most exquisite paintings Mairon had ever seen.

“What is it now?” A woman stepped forward but stopped, one hand pressed to her chest as if to clutch her very heart, as she saw Mairon. “Melkor! What is the meaning of this?”

With the singsong voice of a circus ringmaster, Melkor started to introduce everyone within the room as well as a few persons clearly visible through the large French windows in rapid succession.

Thankfully, Mairon had no trouble memorising names and faces and so, he let his polite mask slip and focused solely on filing away the information Melkor so zealously heaped upon him; his eyes were bright and cold over a grimly set mouth as he greedily absorbed his surroundings.

Something about the house or its mood made him think of Melkor’s prediction; at that very moment, as he stood in the middle of a large sitting room, Mairon was intimately convinced that his host would be proven right before long. The air was brimming with just the right kind of tension to breed festering resentment, explosive passion, and–of course–crime.

“Welcome, make yourself at home,” a tall, well-built man with hair as startlingly pale as Melkor’s was dark said in a slightly despondent tone; Manwë, Mairon remembered instantly, the brother and co-heir of his charming host who, meanwhile, was leaning against the wall in a corner like a sleek, lethal, black panther.

“A drink?” His wife–of course, a man like Manwë would have a wife who looked as if someone had cut her out of a magazine–said in a tone that was nowhere near interrogative. She was tall and slender with a frightening intensity in both the rigidity of her gaze and the severe set of her generous mouth.

A dangerous vixen, Mairon decided within a single heartbeat, and steeled himself in anticipation.

“A whiskey, neat,” he then replied suavely, his own blazing eyes locked onto her cold beauty with something midway between admiration and disgust; the smile she gave him as she floated over to the small wooden counter was perfunctory and as cutting as a shard of ice.

“Have a seat, my man,” Manwë invited and waved a vague hand towards the sofas strewn around haphazardly in an otherwise perfectly laid out room.

“No doubt our guest wants to freshen up before dinner,” Melkor interjected so suddenly that everyone turned to him. “I’ll see him to his room.”

The barely held-back energy in his movements and the undeniable authority in his voice brooked no resistance and so, Mairon was ushered out as soon as he had accepted the glass the lady of the house extended with perfect politeness and very little amiability.

As they passed into the corridor, Melkor had the audacity to wink at him as if they were sharing an exquisite joke. “What do you think of our little ménage? Just wait until you meet the Big Man; everything becomes clearer after you make the acquaintance of my esteemed pater.”

Mairon swirled the golden liquid in the thick-walled glass slowly as he recalled all the people he had met to the forefront of his mind as one summoned the actors of a play to the centre of a stage; it was an interesting group, even he couldn’t deny that, and he in fact had to admit that he was almost looking forward to the evening meal.

“I’ll come to pick you up later?” Melkor purred, leaning against the doorframe and interrupting Mairon’s distracted musings by the sheer presence of his massive body filling the space between them. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost in these long, dark hallways.”

“That would be ever so appreciated, thank you,” Mairon replied politely and–struggling against the insane impulse to invite, for reasons he could not yet fathom, that sharply smiling quasi-stranger into the room allotted to him–he resolutely shut the door.

Melkor, he enumerated in his head as soon as he was alone, brother to Manwë who–according to the former–was a dunce and a dangerous disgrace. Manwë was married to Varda–cold, distant, and mesmerising as the night sky bespangled with diamonds–and that matrimonial bond gave him an edge over his bachelor brother for Varda was an accomplished hostess and a paragon of propriety and thus held considerable sway in the community.

The young woman who had first let Mairon in had been Nienna. She and her two brothers were counted amongst the oddities of the manor and–if Melkor was to be believed–his father had built them a gloomy lodge within the sprawling park where her brothers resided with their respective spouses.

Mairon could only surmise that they fulfilled some function and were deemed useful or beneficial to the family in a less self-evident way because, otherwise, it would hardly have been sensible to sustain two couples and a maiden out of pure philanthropy.

Somehow, Mairon doubted that either one of the men of this house would easily be seduced into doing anything for less than perfectly valid, rational, and self-serving reasons; he could respect that for he valued a sound mind over a bleeding heart.

The sweet, effaced Nienna was a spinster though and as such, she was apparently considered the gentle minder and caretaker of all the needs of the other inhabitants of the household.

Hovering around the core group like a benevolent ghost, she probably lived within the manor itself to make sure that she’d always be at the beck and call of whatever whimsy or mood befell the young lords or their prestigious guests.

She was pretty enough in her slightly vague, translucent way and she certainly seemed agreeable and pleasant to the highest degree; maybe, Mairon thought with a smirk as he finally drained his tumbler, that was the very reason why Melkor had elbowed her out of the way so quickly.

He had not yet seen Irmo, the youngest of the three, but he had noticed Námo, Nienna’s oldest brother and the undisputed head of their little family unit.

A morose, somewhat judgemental silhouette in the background of an oddly domestic scene, Námo had thus far done nothing to endear himself to Mairon or win any favours in the young detective’s eyes.

Setting his glass down on a beautifully varnished and dutifully polished dresser, Mairon let his thoughts wander on.

To these colourful characters were added Aulë and Yavanna, groundskeepers and friends of the house more than actual servants; Mairon had caught but a momentary glimpse of them, entertaining a gaggle of dishevelled local kids with their expertise.

By the time Melkor came to fetch Mairon for dinner, the elusive investigator–known and dreaded for his shrewd ability to see right through people’s façades down into their most intimate core–had a pretty good overview of the inhabitants and dependents of the manor.

The ruggedly handsome face of his mysterious benefactor was drawn and pale, and Mairon instinctively knew that something had gone awry while he had been changing into his perfectly tailored evening garb.

“You are in for a treat,” Melkor said with a smile that might have fooled a less perspicacious onlooker. “The hunting party has returned a day early.”

“Hunting party?” Mairon’s gaze fell onto a pile of hunting and fishing gear–messily thrown into a corner of the foyer–as he strode down the broad staircase confidently by Melkor’s side.

“As I said, we had not expected them yet,” Melkor explained sombrely; from the salon, raucous voices–raised in excitement and anger–boomed in a rapid exchange of profanities that were interrupted periodically by the pacifying interjections of the female onlookers.

“Moreover,” the tall, stern man continued, “my father has disappeared. He’s not been seen since before your arrival and he’s nowhere to be found on the grounds.”

“Disappeared?” Mairon echoed, all his senses alight with the thrill of finding a precious and unlooked-for gift addressed to him.

Melkor merely nodded and pushed open the door with a forceful flourish in a grotesque déjà-vu.

“Here are your suspects,” he whispered in a strained voice, “happy hunting.”

I've slightly dropped the ball on this, but (if I get time later today), I might drop another Angbang to at least get Bingo on both sheets.

@fellowshipofthefics here is my (potentially) last entry for this year's February Bingo.

Thank you so much for this amazing event!!!

Lots of love

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #fotfics february bingo #february challenge #sweet bingo #prompt:meeting the family #Angbang #Melkor #Mairon #Melkor x Mairon #old school crime novel #Eru has disappeared #could have been anyone #who is your suspect?

[eruhatesu]

thoughts on married gojohime? do they live in an apartment or they got a house (old traditional style or high tech ones)? does gojo pick uta up when they are done with work or they meet up? their favorite thing to do as a couple? i think it would be traveling since gojo gets to go to new places often but now he wants to do it with his wifey (uta rarely go abroad for work so shes kinda excited everytime they travel ☺️) favorite thing they do to another since it makes the other one smile? ugh i just love married!gojohime so much 😩😩

AHHH!!! My hc on married gojohime is solely based on them having a very secure relationship. Thank you so much for this ask! <3 rekindled my love for domestic gojohimeee

At their age, they still are considered a young asian couple so I think their focus still is their respective job.

They live in Utahime's apartment in Kyoto. Well, mainly Gojo spends a lot of his time off work in there but he still has his high tech flat in Tokyo which he stays in whenever there are regular classes, or big missions in Tokyo. "A person can barely live here, Gojo. You dont even have a proper pan to cook for yourself..." was Utahime's comment on his place the first time he brought her there 5 years ago.

She gets to stay at his place too when she has work in Tokyo. Not too long tho or unless he's there too, the space in there just irks her.

Gojo and Uta agreed not to be so public about their marriage for her safety. He usually picks her up outside the gate of the Kyoto Tech bc seeing Gakuganji just simply pisses him off. Or if Utahime asks, they might just meet on the restaurant they gonna eat out or elsewhere.

Favorite thing to do as a couple is traveling, and shopping! Utahime is a very practical woman but she knows her brands. Gojo being Gojo spoils her more than she wanted but hey, whatever . it makes them both happy

Fav thing to do to make each other smile is eat out (each other. jk.... I meant eat outside) after a day of work when Gojo is in Kyoto. Just sit down, talk about the happenings to each other or with Shoko, or Nanami, or Ijichi. Utahime loves drinking a can or two when they are out. Gojo makes sure he always have time for this.

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime #ask eru #anon! #eru writes

[erughostcat]

“…Personal aspirations? It's not something I have ever thought about before…”

In the aftermath of the Vision Hunt Decree, Kujou Sara is forced to take her fate into her own hands: She can no longer trust the person–- the weapon– Kujou Takayuki forged her to be. For the first time in her life she needs to answer the question of what she really wants for herself. Despite everything, Sanognomiya Kokomi becomes a source of comfort to the weary Shogunate General while they collaborate on projects to help unify their people. Along the path to redemption and reformation, Sara finds friendship in unlikely places as she pours her efforts into the peace talks and protecting all of Inazuma from lingering Fatui threats.

finally posting my kujou sara-centric fic because she deserves better!!!!

#genshin impact #kujou sara #kokosara #sangonomiya kokomi #fanfic #eru writes #this is a big one #chapter 1

[cilil]

some old classics, some new ones. in spite of all my registering-words-in-the-personal-dictionary efforts, they keep happening...

#crack #silm crack #memes #silm memes #shitpost #salmar #eru #eru iluvatar #ulmo #airilin #ainur #writing woes

[beeperoo]

Im just gonna ramble about my ocs for a bit

So Stellar is a horrible person but xe'd never use Lene's backstory against her. Lene and Stellar are actually pretty similar, growing up in a toxic/abusive household where they had to run away, being distantly related to some gods, and strong connection with magic (Though Stellar is a practicing witch and her magic is stronger).

Stellar still does however see Lene as a puppet/doll, but cares for her in some sense.

This also goes for Boltset and Lene. Bolt values his sibling Star more than anything, and values their life over his own despite Star showing they dont care for Bolt as much.

Bolt and Lene are very similar. This is why Lene first takes a disliking for him. Boltset reminds Lene of herself at 18. Naive, selling a soul for material goods, and attaching themself to family.

Boltset and Lene both experienced homelesness at a young age, the only difference being Bolt having a sibling to rely on.

Lene used to see Stellar as a sibling figure. Stellar was the one who helped her transition, xe gave her a home and introduced her to Lotus at one point.

Now about Lotus; She still lives with her and Stellar's parents. She doesnt know yet of Stellar's "business" with the theater and readings. The last time she saw Stellar, they were both just kids. (Stellar ran away at 16 while Lotus was 14).

Anyways thats my daily rambling, it is currently 2AM, goodnight

#oc #beeperoo rambles #ramblings #rambles #oc lore #im working on the first ep thing #my friend offered to make an animation for it #my oc lore #oc writing #character design #original character #beeperoo eru

[curiouselleth]

Tell me more about the Raistlin is Eru fic 👀

Hi @echo-bleu!

I did a little rambling here, and I have the whole idea typed up here if you're up for reading a longer much more detailed version. The longer version has some quotes and more in-depth comparisons and such! This is also based off the ending of the Last Trial musical rather than the legends trilogy, I haven't finished it yet lol

Basically, Raistlin gets a second chance after becoming a god and destroying the world to create a new world, and creates the ainur, maiar, and so on the world of Arda is created as in the Silmarillion, but he's Eru. I got this idea when I started to see parallels between Eru's actions and Raistlins.

Raistlin!Eru's refusal to be too involved, or involved really at all in his world after it's created. His lack of action against Melkor after he entered Ea - darkness and light needed balance in his previous world. He didn't want his world to have the hurt that his last world did, but it happened so he did not act so that there could be some semblance of balance.

Then Numenor. He sees men reaching for immortality in Valinor, the land of the gods. How long until they come to want the power that the valar have, and try to become gods themselves? He reacts. He stops them, so that it is certain they can not continue... perhaps how he wished to be stopped before destroying his first world.

The fic would be about before he made the Ainur, about that process of him being there alone in the abyss and coming to accept the second chance, up to the creation of the ainur or Arda - or perhaps a little later after the music. Then some one-shots of him seeing the war in beleriand, the war of wrath, Numenor... it's still very in the concept rotating it fast as a centrifuge phase unfortunately but I will write it at some point lol

Thanks so much for the ask! If you want to find out more or see more of the details and meta the other two asks, especially the longer one, are really detailed and go into it more!

#ask #asks #raistlin is eru #raistlin majere #eru iluvatar #iluvatar #my writing #about my writing #writing meta #writing #silm fic #silmarillion fanfic #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion fic #silmarillion #last trial musical #the last trial musical

[forerussake]

Writing Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks for the tag @dual-domination <33 This sounds fun!

Shen Wei comes to awareness slowly. (Out of near-death - Guardian, Shen Wei-centric)

“What are you doing?” Zhao Yunlan asks. (The light of new beginnings - Guardian, Weilan)

It’s not the first time Zhao Yunlan sees the Ghost Slayer fight. (Raw - Guardian (novel-verse), Pre-canon (?) Weilan)

Almost a year passes in between the end of the Guardian promo tour and the next time they see each other. (The shared art of drowning - RPF, Zhubai)

It’s late afternoon, the sun slowly starting to creep towards the horizon. (Learning curve - Guardian, Guo Changcheng and Shen Wei-centric)

His back aches. (But pursue no regrets - DMBJ, Pangxie)

It starts, as many thing do, with a question in a group chat on a Sunday afternoon: Is professor Shen okay? (The grace of care - Guardian, Shen Wei and Jiajia-centric)

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Zhao Xinci grumbles, “and yet here we are.” (Exchange - Guardian, platonic Weilan i guess? Zyl is literally a child in this and they’re meeting for the first time idk)

Lao-Zhao’s doing it again. (Petrichor - Guardian, Weilan, Da Qing POV)

Blood isn’t hard to get off the kitchen floor. (The easy part - Guardian, Zhao Yunlan-centric)

Patterns: I like to start with shorter sentences, to quickly draw the reader in. I either start with something to introduce the setting a little bit but with a twist, or with some action. I try not to open with (too much) exposition or description, instead trying to make my first sentence immediately evoke questions: what is wrong with Shen Wei? What is he doing?? Blood on the floor??? Developing the pace and mood of the piece first, and only then delving deeper into the real setting and what is actually going on. If I can I like to put my readers on the wrong foot a little at the start: e.g. ‘exchange’ isn’t about zxc at all. The first sentence for me is all about drawing the reader in, and once I’ve got them, that is when I start explaining myself. (There are exceptions to this, where I start with the setting right away, e.g. in ‘learning curve’, but i tend to look back on those as my weaker opening lines/paragraphs :)).

Tagging: @pangzi @elenothar @lynne-monstr @mjsakurea @programmedradly @lunarriviera @the-marron @deathofsanity @hideyseek @lucientelrunya @stupid-lemon-eater @miss-ingno @aredhel-of-doylkien @thedaughterofshadows if you want to!!!

#tagged #my writing #eru writes fic