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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 8 months ago

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We've Got Tonight (Paul McCartney x Starr!Female!Reader)

Find Part Two Here

A/N: WOW, is all I can say. The alarming support from those of you reading my work is driving me to write more than EVER right now! I cannot say thank you enough, y'all. Your notes and comments inspire me, so please keep it up if you wanna read more from me!

I'm about to bless y'all with some McBeardy angst, so I hope you all enjoy!!

Also, this fic was inspired by Bob Seger's We've Got Tonight, so I highly recommend listening to the song before and/or after reading this one to get into the vibe of it.

Summary: Paul is in his lonesome after a break up. So are you. You decide to keep each other company.

WARNINGS: ANGST, but it gets sweet in the end. Mentions of cheating, low self esteem. Suggestive actions, mentions/insinuation of sex, but no smut (that'll be saved for a bonus part 2 if anyone's interested in that.)

There is mention of the Beatles' extended family, so if I have any incorrect info in here, I apologize in advance; I didn't want this to become too much of a history lesson.

Also, like my other fics, this one is a NOVEL, so please read when you have a good half hour+ of free time :)

I don't wanna rate this a T, but there is no smut in this, so please just be aware that there is sex mentioned/insinuated, so PLEASE just read at your own discretion. But most of all, enjoy!

Paul was sitting on the sofa in the den, alone with the lights out. He was staring out the window at the night in silence as he sucked down another cigarette and sipped at another glass of scotch.

It was late enough that the world around him was dead sleep, yet he was wide awake, and alone with his thoughts.

He broke it off with Linda. She was a sweet girl, and no one was really quite sure why things ended between them, but they all knew it was a mutual agreement.

Paul really hadn't been taking it well, though. He hadn't been sleeping right for almost a month, and he stared drinking a little more. He didn't want anyone really knowing, which is why he did it in his lonesome.

He wasn't necessarily by himself, because the rest of the Beatles were upstairs in their collective rooms asleep; but what made him feel alone was that alongside the bandmates in their rooms were their families and wives. And Paul just didn't have that.

Usually he would have been rather vocal over something that bothered him so much, but the band felt like recently they'd been clashing, so he wasn't wanting to bother them with something like that.

While Paul finished the final puff of his cigarette and put out the butt in the ashtray on the coffee table, his head snapped to the entrance of the den, where he caught sight of a silhouette in the threshold.

You stopped in your tracks when Paul made eye contact with you. You supposed he'd heard your footsteps.

From what you could tell from the light of the moon shining in through the window, Paul seemed worn out. He rubbed the side of his face with his free hand before wordlessly nodding to you in acknowledgement.

"... I'm sorry to intrude. I didn't know anyone was still awake. I was just needing a drink," you explained quietly. You'd met Paul a few times here and there-- you had to, with Ringo-- or Rich-- your brother, being one of his bandmates and all.

Paul was always kind when you interacted with each other, but you could definitely tell something was a little off about his behaviour this time around.

Rich did mention Paul's break-up to you briefly, but you were going through your own separation, so you were in your own head with your own problems. That's why Rich offered to bring you along with him, Maureen, Zak, and Jason on this trip with the rest of the guys and their families, so you could get away from thinking about your ex.

Unfortunately, the unfamiliar space put you in the same position as Paul; wide awake, in the middle of the night, with a racing mind.

"'S alright," he sighed before drinking the rest of the scotch in his glass and raising to his feet. You watched him move around the room to the alcohol cabinet right outside the kitchen.

He refilled his glass right to the top before wordlessly grabbing a second glass out, tossing in a few ice cubes, and filling it three quarters of the way before sliding it over to you.

Your eyes widened a little, considering you'd actually come down for some water, but maybe this was a sign you were going to want something stronger.

"... Should've asked you if you even like this stuff," Paul stated apologetically when he realized how gentlemanly he was not being. You smiled sadly at him, but picked up the glass anyways.

He matched his glass to the same level as yours before you both gently tapped them together. The sound of the glass chimed for a moment before you and Paul raised the drinks to your lips.

The scotch was harsh, and you surely made an unflattering face as you took a sip, but Paul didn't say anything to you, as he was too busy staring at the ice swirling around in his own glass.

"... What're you doing up so late, if you don't mind me asking?" You asked after a moment of silence, and Paul's big brown eyes met yours for another quiet second as he thought about what to respond with.

He pushed his tongue into his cheek before shrugging and mumbling into his glass, "thinking."

After taking another sip of his drink and staring off into space for a moment or two, he bit his lip, gesturing over to you with his glass.

"And you?" You shook your head, realizing it was your turn to scrounge up an excuse for being wide awake at such an absurd time.

"Can't sleep," you lied.

Paul frowned, motioning you to the sofa he was just sitting on to invite you to sit for a while. After a moment of pondering whether you should really go back to your room, you made up your mind and headed to the sofa, Paul following suit.

There was just something about the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, and behind them was this sadness you just couldn't ignore.

Before he took a seat, you were able to get another good look at him. He was in black jeans, and a green sweater; his day-clothes completely contrasting your pyjama set. He'd grown his hair out since you saw him last, and now he was sporting a full beard.

You always thought he was a good looking guy, but now, without being blinded by any bias, there was really no denying how handsome Paul had become since you seen him last.

In fact, it felt like every time you ended up seeing him next, he always seemed to look better and better, and you weren't quite sure how that was possible.

Paul took the seat right next to you, and he set his drink down on the coffee table, clasping his hands together, elbows on the thighs, and hanging his head.

"To be honest with you... I went through a separation about a month ago. And I don't seem to be handling it well." He finally sighed, turning his head so he was looking at you again. He unclasped his hands and ran his fingers through his beard a few times.

"I'm a romantic, y'know, and I'm not a fan of being so lonely." You nodded your head a little at his words. What was tough was that you didn't have anything encouraging to say to him because you were in the same boat.

Paul swallowed when you remained silent, and then he cleared his throat. He scratched the back of his head nervously as he leaned back into the sofa.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, and you're probably just wanting to head to bed." He gave a little head nod of understanding as he rubbed his eye with his finger. "You're not here to talk to me about my problems."

It was your turn to set your drink down on the table, turning your attention to him again.

"Well... will that help make you feel better, perhaps?" you watched Paul's eyes meet yours again, and he pressed his lips together tightly in thought.

"... I don't know if there is really much to say," he said after a moment, reaching for his glass again.

"Thank you, though. Was very kind of you to offer somethin' like that."

After he took another sip of his drink, he gestured to you again with his glass.

"... Ringo sort of mentioned you were going through a separation too... You doin' okay?" Paul tried his best to be as inclusive as possible, but it was all rough stuff to talk about, so he treaded carefully.

"I mean..." you trailed off for a moment before responding with a simple, "I'm angry, above all else."

You were honestly taken aback by Paul's question. Rich wasn't necessarily the greatest person to receive comforting advice from, especially when it came to this separation, since he thought so highly of your ex, but you perhaps weren't telling him the whole truth.

But you were definitely surprised he even mentioned your pain to anyone else, let alone his bandmates.

"Kept a lot of heavy things to myself for a long time, it just became exhausting." Now it was your turn to reach for your scotch, still cringing at its strength as you took a generous mouthful.

Paul waited a beat before asking, "would talking about it with me maybe make you feel better?"

"... you really care to know that stuff?" You asked gently for clarification. As mentioned, you and Paul weren't close, you could probably count on one hand the amount of times you met him prior to this moment...

And this was heavy stuff you were seemingly about to share, and you really wanted to make sure he was okay with that.

Paul nodded his head without hesitation, and offered, "'s the least I can do for you for keeping me company so late."

You sighed a deep breath, and took a few more sips from your glass before putting it back down, curling your legs up to your chest, and began.

You told Paul about your ex. You told him about how you were with him for five years, and watched him slowly fall out of love with you, sleep around, and how you struggled with self-image and self-worth for a long time.

You also mentioned how you were the one to leave, but he had no idea you had any strength to do so, so he tried for a long while to guilt you into going back to him.

The difficult things to talk about made you a little more emotional, so you breathed your way through it slowly as to not cry. The drink Paul poured for you was helping you relax at least.

Paul was more than patient with you, and you were grateful for that. At one point during the lengthy conversation, he lit another cigarette, and began offering you drags throughout your story to calm your nerves.

You took those offers graciously, and thankfully.

"... I don't know. I just lay awake every night, wondering if there was something I could have done different so he didn't do what he did."

You were staring out the window with Paul now, taking in just how many stars you could actually see from the den. He took his final puffs of his smoke, the thin silver waves swirling in the air above the both of your heads.

"Sounds like he didn't cherish you enough when you were around," Paul debated gently, shaking his head and putting out his cigarette end in the ashtray next to the others. He picked up his scotch again before mumbling against the rim,

"He's not worth it."

You pulled yourself from the trance of the tiny lights outside to wipe remnants of silent, salty tears off your cheeks, and you used that moment to glance over at Paul, whose nose was still deep in the glass. When he pulled the drink away from his mouth and swallowed, you parted your lips to speak.

"... was Linda worth it?" You didn't mean it in a rude way, but you hadn't met her personally, and you wanted to pry Paul just a tiny bit.

He smiled, but it was bitter. You figured you struck a nerve, and before you could apologize for what you said, he answered simply, with tears glossing his own eyes,

"Yes. She was."

You tilted your head a little and frowned, trying to understand what drove them apart.

"It was just never the right timing. She was ready for things I wasn't in the beginning, and then down the road, when I was seemingly ready for those things, she wasn't. And I didn't want her wasting her time on a life she didn't wanna live, y'know?"

"So she's the one that got away," you mused gently.

"Indeed, she was." Paul nodded a little before finishing the rest of his scotch in his glass, leaning back again, and cradling his head in his hand as he looked at you for another quiet moment, resting his glass in-hand on his thigh.

"... I'm not a bad person, am I?" Those watery eyes never disappeared, and you had to break his sad gaze, opting to reach out and rub his shoulder comfortingly.

"Hey, no. Wasting your time, or her time, like the way my ex did to me, would have made you a bad person, Paul. Saying good bye was the right thing to do."

"Well, I wish that made me feel better," he mumbled, dropping his own gaze to the space between the both of you. He pushed a stray tear away before he thought you could see it, and then scratched at his beard again. You guessed that must have been a habit of his out of stress.

"Something about her made me feel like she was the one. Like we were meant to share the same story; but we always seemed to be on a different chapter,"

He sniffled, but only once. "That being said, was I perhaps too lovestruck in the end to want to believe that her future was meant to be shared with someone else?"

His voice carried so much sorrow, and you knew he needed some kind of advice. It took you a moment or so to find the right words to say to him.

"... Knowing my ex wasn't right for me and the reality of me leaving doesn't make me feel any better. At all." You offered to Paul, before adding,

"... But why should the expectations of those we chose to take out of our life dictate the way we behave today?"

The words that came out of your mouth were surprisingly wise, and you watched Paul's eyebrows knit together as he absorbed what you said.

He focused his sight to you again, a more determined look on his face. Paul knew you were absolutely right. He was a charmer; romancing people was his thing.

There was no denying Linda was special, but when he realized he really had no commitment in romancing her anymore, he finally understood that it was his own thoughts holding him back.

Even if it took him a little longer than expected, he knew you were right. He would recover from this.

"... I think you just opened my eyes and made me realize something... Thank you, y/n, really." He reached up with his free hand after a second, fingers grazing your own hand still on his arm in comfort, showing you his gratitude for your words of advice.

You smiled a little, glad you were able to help him somewhat through his times of trouble as you pulled your hand away.

Paul stood up again, retrieving his empty glass from the coffee table before facing you fully, a more genuine smile beginning to pull on the corners of his mouth, but it was still rather sad.

"I'm grabbing a refill, you too?"

Your sight drifted to your near-empty glass on the table.

Why let tonight go to waste? End so soon?

"Please," you asked, grabbing the glass yourself, but Paul began to tut at you as he grabbed the glass from your fingers.

"Please, I'll get it for you," he insisted, and you watched his slender figure move around the couch to head for the alcohol cabinet another time. He filled them only halfway this time, and on the way back he made a brief stop at the record player near the entrance of the den.

Soft classical music rang out quietly from the player once Paul dropped the needle down onto the vinyl, and he returned to his spot next to you with your two drinks. You thanked him quietly as he passed the glass over to you, and he leaned in a little, raising his drink between the two of you.

"Hello to... new beginnings," he began slowly.

"And Goodbye to false finales," you finished, your glasses tapping together again before you took yet another sip of the drink.

Paul matched your movements, his eyes watching you, even when you turned away to gaze longingly out the window for a moment, basking in the feeling of the gentle music flirting with your ears.

Sure, you and Paul could have went on for the rest of the night discussing your heartbreak, but you decided to drive the conversation elsewhere.

You sighted back to him after a while, his sight unwavering from you. Your eyes locked for just a beat before you decided aloud with a gentle nod,

"... you know, that beard really suits you."

Paul's eyebrows shot up, and his face darkened a little as he bit his lips between his teeth almost nervously.

"... Think so?"

You'd never seen him lack so much confidence when given a compliment before, but instead of pitying him, you almost admired his innocence.

It sounded like he needed to hear a compliment like that.

"Yes," you laughed airily, raising your glass up for another drink. Paul couldn't bite back his smile anymore, so he copied you to mask his lips. You then gestured to your head with the point of your finger as you swallowed the alcohol back easier and easier each time.

"Your hair, too. I think it's a nice length."

Your kind words made Paul feel warm and fuzzy inside, and he placed his scotch back down on the table.

"Well, thanks, Love." He rubbed the back of his neck, and laughed weakly. "I call it my 'Don't View The Mirror For Three Weeks' look."

Paul paused in his moments of self-deprecation to realize he should have maybe complimented you back. He took a second to take another good look at you as he decided what to say, exactly.

"... Y'know, the last time I saw you was a few years ago, now."

You thought for a moment on that. It had been a while since you'd seen him last. You nodded your head as you recalled the day.

"You're right, it has been some time. Christmas, 1966." John and Cynthia had hosted this massive holiday dinner, and everyone's extended family was there.

You were single at the time, and spent dinner conversing with Paul's sister, Ruth, who was at least fifteen years younger than you. There was no introduction made by Paul, she just walked up, introduced herself to you, and made a friend by herself.

She went on and on about school, and music, and how the potatoes were her favourite part of dinner; and you paid attention to everything she had to say, responding with your own opinions and jokes to keep her feeling included amongst the adults at the table.

And Paul, who was seated next to Ruth, couldn't help but overhear your conversations throughout the evening, and he found it rather charming that you treated Ruth with such respect despite her young age.

And after dinner, you and Ruth danced together almost the whole night. She eventually went over to do a little dancing with Paul, and you watched as she bounced around excitedly with her brother, who, for just a moment, locked eyes with you across the sea of dancing guests.

You remember giving him a shy wave with a smile, and he sent a wink back your way before returning his attention to Ruth, spinning her around as she squealed happily.

"... I'm rather fond of that evening," Paul stated simply, the reality of your melancholy evening strongly contrasting with the memories of the wonderful night.

Now you and Paul weren't so young, and this time he was noticing the little lines under your eyes, indicating the dragging march of time slowly catching up to you both.

"And, even after all the years that have passed... you still look as lovely tonight as you did then."

You blushed at Paul's compliment, biting back a stupid grin as you repeated the words in your head.

"And I admire your ever-present kindness," he added on, and you knew he really just meant he showed appreciation for lending him an ear in his time of need.

"More people need to be like you."

"I don't know what to say," you said honestly, settling for a gentle "thank you," in the end. Paul just nodded, unsure if there was anything to say back.

"You know..." you paused for a second, watching as Paul went for another sip from his glass. "It was quite a shame we never got a dance in that night together, just you and me."

Paul was mid sip when you said that, so you continued on.

"The music was great, everyone was in high spirits, and I was maybe too shy to approach you myself and ask you to dance with me. So I guess that's on me." You scratched your elbow as you announced your rather dumb confession to him.

Paul, who was nearly done with his drink now, waited a moment or two in thought, before rising to his feet, and wandering back over to the record player, scotch still in hand.

You tried to watch his movements over your shoulder, but it was really dark. All you knew was that he was changing the music.

The classical tune cut, and the player began to drawl a much slower, more recent song; one you hadn't yet heard.

Paul turned on his heel as he reapproached the sofa, taking the final sip of scotch he had left in his glass before placing it back down on the table, and reaching his hand out for you to take.

"Well, let's not let this dance wait any longer, then, yeah?"

You froze for just a moment, Paul's outstretched hand hung in the air for a few seconds, and your sight moved up to his face, where you noticed his confidence falter just a little.

"Again, I know it's late, and I know your plans for the night surely didn't include me..."

"But, still, here we are." Your words came out almost effortlessly. You finished your scotch as well, and when you finally put your hand in Paul's, he squeezed your fingers gently, that warm upturn finally returning to his lips.

He guided you slowly over to the windows so you weren't in so much darkness, the moonlight still shining just enough for you both to see one another; and when Paul decided he could see your face much better, he let his other hand drop to your waist, watching as your own hand rested on his forearm.

You both shifted from side to side to the beat of the music, and you stared absentmindedly at the small space between you both.

"... You okay?" He asked you quietly after a minute, and you looked up at him, cheeks reddening as you realized you could feel his breath fanning your face.

"I've realized just how long it's been since I last danced with someone like this," you mentioned sheepishly, and a little smirk pulled at the corner of Paul's mouth.

"You don't have two left feet, y'know," his tone was almost teasing, and you smiled back, glad he wasn't feeling so much sadness anymore.

Paul then added with a little shrug, "'Sides, I wanted to dance with you that night, too. But I'm very glad I have the honours now."

Paul began turning with you in slow circles together as you continued to sway, and you took a moment to decide your next words carefully.

"... I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it's different when you're dancing with someone who actually wants to dance with you. It's just... it's really nice. So thank you, Paul."

Paul let go of your waist for a moment, and raised your clasped hands above your heads so you could twirl under his arm. When you did just that, and faced him again, he pulled you just a little closer than you were before, your torsos flush as his hand snaked slowly to the small of your back.

"Thank you," he mumbled back, quietly. You weren't entirely sure what he was thanking you for this time, but you never asked.

Instead, you shut your eyes and opted to rest your head in the crook of his neck as the hand you had on Paul's bicep slid upward so your arm circled around his shoulders, in a half embrace.

And then you felt Paul tilt his own head down as if to envelope you more. You'd be lying if you said your heart didn't skip a beat when he did that.

Paul then began to hum the lyrics of the song, quietly, as if you were the only person in the world who was meant to hear it. Both yours and his eyes were closed now as you two basked in such a beautiful moment.

Two lonely people, finding comfort, and peace in each other.

Paul raised your clasped hands closer to him so he could rest them against his chest. You could actually feel his heartbeat pounding against the side of your hand, which made you a little nervous, but not in a bad way.

Paul stopped moving you around in circles, but the swaying never ceased. He lifted his cheek off your crown after a while, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and raise your gaze back to his face.

Paul smiled so sweetly at you, and you watched his eyes shift ever so slightly from left to right as he looked back into yours. His eyebrows then worried for just a moment before he opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, but no words came out.

Your shifting finally slowed to a standstill, and you opened your mouth this time to speak, yet you found yourself in Paul's very position.

There was nothing to say.

You watched as his gaze softened on you, and you weren't sure if it was the drinks, or the lack of sleep, but it was like you could almost feel the gravity around you manipulating you to move just a little closer to him.

And he must have felt it as well. Paul's head began to drop slowly, and it wasn't long before you met him in the middle, your lips coming together in a very soft, and very unplanned kiss. The both of you kept still, almost as if the smallest move would have frightened the other away.

You were both holding your breath as well, and Paul pulled away from the kiss first, arm still wrapped around your back, hand still clasped in yours.

He was staring at you in awe, as were you, eyes wide, and lips still slightly parted as you both processed what exactly just happened.

Paul still couldn't muster any words, nor could you, for that matter; but he could definitely read your gaze. Your eyes were almost begging him to do that again.

And that's exactly what happened; your lips came crashing into each other again after only another second.

You weren't stupid, and neither was he. You both already knew this night was going to become something else entirely. You were craving the touch of someone, and you didn't even have to tell him.

You could just tell with the way he was moving his mouth against yours, and the way his body was flush with you, that he was wanting it just as bad.

Paul's hand finally let go of yours so he could lace his fingers into the hair at the back of your head, and your own hand slid around to his back. He tried pulling you even closer, but it just wasn't possible.

You sighed quietly as you kissed him again, and again, and Paul's hand unweaved itself from your hair as he cupped your face before breaking the kiss off again, another troubled look on his face.

"Ringo'll kill me if he knew I was--"

"Paul, please. I need this," you didn't let him finish his sentence. You didn't really care what your brother thought of anything, and you assumed, deep down, Paul really didn't care either, because he dove back in for more kisses as soon as he could.

His hands cupped your jawline as you gripped his sweater in your fists at his chest. You parted your mouth slightly and just melted into Paul's arms when he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip.

You moaned lowly against him, ears ringing, and all Paul could think to do was blindly shuffle you backwards towards the sofa, but instead, you felt the coffee table hit the back your legs, and you nearly stumbled back. The glasses, once filled with scotch but now only ice, shuffled against the table's surface at the force of you bumping into it.

Paul ended your kiss once more, one of his hands leaving the side of your face to circle around your hips quickly so you didn't fall back. He smiled at you when he knew you weren't going anywhere, offering you a teasing, "maybe you do have two left feet, Darling."

That wonderful pet name made your flesh rise with goosebumps, but all you could mumble to him was, "Just shut up and kiss me, Paul."

Without hesitation, he did just that, which felt like an eternity to the both of you since the last one.

He, still blindly, yet carefully, directed you around the table and to the sofa. Paul, with his hands holding your hips, was the first to sink down, but encouraged you to straddle him as soon as he was fully seated with an encouraging tap to the back of your thighs.

It was your turn to pull away now, your dominant hand resting flat against the centre of Paul's chest as you gave him a good once-over, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Paul was leaned back, lips parted and shining, assumably from the spit you'd been exchanging, and his eyes almost twinkling at you in adoration.

Your heart was full of something you hadn't felt in a very long time, and it was all because of this sensual interaction.

You reached out with your other hand and ran your thumb over his bottom lip, his shallow breath fluttering gently against the skin on your fingers. You tilted his head up and kissed him again, and your fingernails just couldn't resist playing with his beard any longer.

Paul's grip on your hips tightened when you started doing that, and when you decided to take your other hand off his chest and start playing with his hair, he let out a very low groan against your lips, and to both of your surprise, his hips bucked up involuntarily against you.

He gasped at his own actions, and you pulled away to view the look of apologetic shock written on his face. His cheeks and neck were flushed, and his eyebrows were bent in worry, again.

"I-I promise I didn't mean to..." Paul's voice carried a hint of... shame, almost. You watched as he nervously toyed his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried searching his brain for something to say, but the effects of his drink and your sweet attention had him grasping for any type of clear thought.

But all of his attempts went completely out the window when you lowered your hips down and rocked them back against his, his head falling back against the sofa as his eyes rolled, a guttural moan rumbling from deep within his chest.

It was absolutely apparent that Paul's jeans were lacking the room they'd possessed a few minutes prior, and when you repeated the circular motion with your hips again, feeling him hard against your core, you were rewarded with another low growl from him.

"W-wait," Paul uttered weakly after a second, arms and fingers tightening at your hips to keep you from moving around and teasing him again, as much as he didn't want you to stop.

"I want this so much. I want you so much," he began, taking a beat to rake his eyes down your body as his tongue swiped against his own bottom lip. His gaze flitted back to your eyes, and he swallowed nervously.

"I don't want you to do this if you aren't, y'know..." you waited for him to finish his thought, and his round pink cheeks seemed to flush just a little more.

"If you're not okay with it."

You took a second to think on his argument. You and he were relatively fresh out of troubled relationships, and you both seemed to be hurting from the aftermath of said relationships...

But you were so lonely, too. And, to each other, you were simply beautiful, and respectful people, offering your... company... in a time of isolation for you both.

And it wasn't like there was any label for what you two were, either. All you and Paul needed was to feel wanted-- to feel loved.

And only if you could experience such a feeling for one more night in your life, Paul was offering now. And you were going to take it.

"I want this moment to last, Paul. If you're okay with making me feel wanted again, I am more than comfortable doing the same for you."

You could see him visibly relax when you said that, relief washing over his features as he reached a hand up to caress the back of your neck and bring you into a single, sweet kiss. You still couldn't get over how gentle and polite he was still being about all of this.

"We should really... go to my room," Paul suggested quietly after pulling a fraction of an inch away from the contact. You nodded your head, sighing "okay" as Paul closed the gap between you both just once more, only for a peck.

He let go of your hips and he reached for your hands instead, fingers intertwining slowly, and affectionately. You slid out of his lap, and Paul rose to his feet, guiding you without a hurry towards of the threshold of the den, where you stood to greet him unexpectedly just an hour or so before this moment.

The 45 on the record player had since finished playing the song, needle spinning needlessly in silence. Paul briefly resituated the player before continuing your journey one step at a time towards his bedroom, the heart in your chest beating erratically.

You climbed the stairs together, one dragging step at a time, and Paul led you around the corner of the hallway, pausing at the first room on the right. He glanced over at you, hand on the doorknob as he gave you another look. One that was asking a final, "are you sure?"

You placed your free hand over Paul's without a sound, and together you opened the door. He pulled you in for one more intimate embrace, lips on yours again before he pulled you into the dark room, gently kicking the door closed behind him.

And that night, you stayed with Paul. Hand-in-hand, bodies entwined, souls healing, loneliness fading away, and hopes of feeling whole again finally returning.

Being awake in the middle of the night had never been so gratifying.

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A/A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this! like I said, I can always whip up a part 2 regarding what happened behind those closed doors, so lmk if you're interested in that at all! Thanks for the support again and stay tuned for more works!

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ptn-imagines · 8 months ago

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I don’t know why but I have been thinking about Shalom and Rahu x fem!paradesis (or however you spell it) reader. Like they’re paired up for missions and stuff 😭😭😭

Here you go, anon! I figure that any Paradeisian that dates Rahu and Shalom is either already doubting Paradeisos or can be radicalized quickly. Also, these headcanons are mostly canon-compliant, but assume two divergences: 1) Rahu has been Shalom's bodyguard for longer than in canon, and 2) Paradeisos suspects something is fucky with Shalom. I spent a lot of time focusing on the pre-relationship, so if you want more, feel free to ask for a continuation!

This is 2.2k words, by the way. So I'm putting it under a cut to respect people's dashes.

Shalom and Rahu x Fem Paradeisos!Reader

When you first get paired with them for missions, they’re both… distant. On their guard.

Shalom is so polite and pleasant with you, it’s eerie. Rahu simply deigns not to talk to you unless you do so first, and when she does speak with you, her responses are short and sharp.

You’re used to the politics of Paradeisos leaving little room for niceties and frivolity, but these two feel like it’s something else. You can’t help but feel that you’re missing something you should really be aware of, but when you look around you, no one else seems to be bothered by it. Not even Shalom’s Schorl. Maybe it’s all in your head?

(You know that it isn’t, but what can you do about it?)

Honestly, you have no idea why your superiors keep assigning you with these two. Doesn’t Shalom have the entire HUSH system at her disposal, not just Rahu? And that’s without even mentioning the incredible power of her Schorl. All of it reeks of Paradeisian politics and you can’t help but feel like you’re just a pawn in a very intense game of chess with countless dimensions. Well, everyone is, but usually you can ignore the fact and get on with your duties. Not this time.

When your superiors have you report in secret at the end of the first month, you’re sure of it. They ask you all sorts of questions, but all of them relate to one topic – Shalom’s loyalty. It was in question? You’re baffled. You’re not privy to the details of her situation, it’s far above your station, but Shalom still never seemed like the type of person who’d betray Paradeisos. Rahu, maybe… but your superiors seemed to care as little for the Hush’s bodyguard as one would care for a slug beneath their boot.

Still, what can you do but answer honestly? You’ve not seen anything strange from either of them that would call their loyalty into question. You have no idea if this is the answer Paradeisos wanted to hear; the official you are speaking to has a completely unreadable expression, as always. He simply takes a few more notes and dismisses you, thanking you for your cooperation.

This continues, and you have to report on Shalom and Rahu’s activities every month. You get the feeling that the pair know why you’re truly here, and that’s why they’re so cautious of you. You don’t really blame them, as while you don’t have any evidence, you’re pretty sure that they must have something to hide. Paradeisos won’t care about mere speculation, though; it’s a blessing in some ways, since the unease you’ve been feeling about this whole situation has only grown stronger.

Paradeisos has really fucked up somehow; it’s the only impression you get of the whole thing. Much as it makes you feel like you’re walking directly into the lion’s den, you quickly come to the conclusion that you’ll never know peace unless you figure out just what is going on behind the scenes.

It’s impossible to catch Shalom without her Schorl, and you don’t want it reporting on your actions to Paradeisos. You’re not as valuable to them as the Hush, you’re expendable; if they so much as suspected your betrayal as they did with her, you’d be executed immediately. That left you with only one choice; speaking to Rahu. It was not a thrilling prospect.

Rahu didn’t like being in your company at the best of times, so interrupting her during a moment of repose did no favors for her mood. Her dark eyes glowered at you, lips twisted into a frown, almost a snarl. Still, it wouldn’t help her temper any more if you just left without saying anything, so you steeled your resolve and forged ahead.

“Rahu, sorry to interrupt you like this. I just want to ask you a few questions,” you began, and it wasn’t exactly Paradeisian to want to wither under somebody’s gaze, but the bodyguard looked for all the world like she was imagining one hundred different ways to kill you here and now. “It’s about you and Shalom… At the end of each of these past few months, Paradeisos has been asking me strange questions, ones that seem to call Shalom’s loyalty into question, and I wanted to know–”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Rahu lunged for you; you could hold your own in combat, but you were no match for a powerful Sinner like Rahu. The struggle could barely be called that, and within moments you were pinned helplessly on the ground, Rahu’s blade a hair’s breadth from your neck, bloody fury making her silver eyes seem to glow. Even as it marked your imminent demise, they were as breathtaking as they were terrifying.

“I knew you were a Paradeisian mole,” she growled, her hot breath tickling your face. “Shalom said the best thing to do was keep acting normal, but if you’re getting this nosy, no need to keep you around any longer.”

Her blade pressed into your skin, droplets of blood welling to the surface. You weren’t going to survive this – she wouldn’t listen to anything you had to say – but you resolved to keep your eyes open and at least face your demise with some degree of dignity.

However, that final blow never came. Instead, you heard the door swinging open, and Shalom’s voice sighed. “Did you two get into a fight? Rahu, let her up. I’m sure whatever you were arguing about isn’t worth killing her over.”

Rahu gave you a venomous look, but obeyed her lady’s orders, standing up and withdrawing. You were left on the floor, reeling in shock, unable to process what had just happened and instinctively taking Shalom’s offered hand. It was softer than you thought.

“Please forgive Rahu for her outburst,” Shalom said to you with a smile that almost felt sincere. “She’s been restless lately. I should have paid better attention to her. I’ll talk with her to make sure this doesn’t happen again. May I treat your wound?”

You’re honestly too shocked to do anything but accept her offer, and she guides you to sit down. Her hands are surgeon-steady as she dabs disinfectant into your wound – a shallow cut, really, it didn’t call for this almost-clinical care – and she’s surprisingly tender about it. Your heart flutters even as you press your lips together to silence a hiss of pain.

That month, the stern-faced official who receives your reports asks you a new question. “Schorl reported that you were attacked by the Hush’s bodyguard. Could you report the incident in more detail? We will eliminate the rogue element if it will prove a threat to your work.”

Your work, more like a threat to Paradeisos. You paused, careful to make it look like you were taking a moment to recall the incident. Without a doubt, this was a test from Shalom. Apparently, she had seen something that she was willing to trust in you, despite everything; she had to have known that what provoked Rahu to almost kill you wasn’t just a simple disagreement. Yet, the fact that she dared to issue this test in the first place… Surely she knew that you had the power to have her most trustworthy ally killed, right here, right now. Knowing her reputation, that meant only one thing: she was sure you’d cover for her and Rahu.

She was right. You spun a story about how you’d accidentally provoked a spike in Rahu’s Mania, which, in a Sinner as volatile and powerful as her, had quickly led to violence. You were pretty sure this would get Shalom scolded for not disciplining her dog better (you were certain that’s how Paradeisos viewed Rahu), but that was a mere slap on the wrist compared to the alternative.

When you next returned to Erica Villa, Rahu was waiting for you. You half-expected her to finish the job from last time, seeing as her gaze upon you was still distrustful. At least it wasn’t downright venomous anymore. Instead, she just grabbed you by the arm – firmly, but not roughly – and muttered “we need to talk” before dragging you into a room and locking it behind her.

Inside this locked room, Rahu admits that Shalom’s loyalty is to nobody but herself, and Rahu will faithfully serve her lady alone until her dying breath. She doesn’t know the details, but Shalom’s plan would ultimately undermine both the Underground and Paradeisos. The first thing was undoubtedly a good thing, and you were starting to suspect the second might not be so bad. Apparently, since you hadn’t reported the true nature of Rahu’s attack to your superiors, you were seen as a possible ally, trustworthy enough to be privy to Shalom’s designs – “but if you become a liability, I’ll kill you where you stand,” Rahu added.

You had no intentions of betraying these two, of course, so you accepted the offer so graciously posed to you. Rahu still didn’t look like she was entirely happy with the arrangement, but she was willing to yield to Shalom’s judgment. So it was that you began aiding the two properly; Shalom would give orders to Rahu through their special connection, who would then pass them on to you. Paradeisos didn’t cease their monitoring of the pair, but didn’t seem to be aware that you were no longer serving their interests, which worked out well.

This new arrangement gave you a chance to be closer to Rahu and Shalom, too, and it caused you to notice things you’d never paid attention to before. Rahu was a gruff, scarred soldier, but there was a certain melancholy in her eyes that caused tides of sorrow to swell within your own heart. She protected Shalom, and to an extent, you, so faithfully, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel as if she was the one who needed a guardian… and every now and again, it seemed as though Shalom filled that role for her, bringing her a much-needed comfort.

Shalom, on the other hand… You started to notice she was not as machine-like as she first appeared. How much of her typical pleasantry was a farce, you didn’t know; that was par for the course with Paradeisians. But what she couldn’t fake was the warm glow in her eyes when her gaze lingered on Rahu, or the way her touches lasted a moment longer than they needed to when she tended to the bodyguard’s cuts and scrapes (and occasionally more serious wounds). Schorl didn’t notice it, perhaps couldn’t notice it, but you did. It almost looked like… love? But that was impossible, wasn’t it? If Rahu and Shalom were in a secret relationship, surely you’d know by now. Surely that was something you could be trusted with? You had to admit, it sounded kind of cute, even if it made your heart twist in an uncomfortable way.

Well, you guessed it wasn’t really any of your business. You tried to put it out of mind…

“Huh?” You were sure you’d misheard Rahu. “You… want me to join your relationship?”

Rahu rolled her eyes, but the effect was largely lost due to the pink flush that ran from her cheeks to her ears. “If you don’t want to, just say so, and we’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”

Of course, you very much did want to join their relationship, and you accepted with a giddy glee that Paradeisos would surely disapprove of. Good thing they’d never know.

Dating Shalom and Rahu was… interesting. Dating Rahu was definitely the easier part, as far as the traditional image of a relationship went – without Schorl’s 24/7 monitoring, you two were able to steal plenty of private moments in locked rooms. Rahu wasn’t much of a talker, so your relationship with her is full of passionate physicality. She kisses you like she’s drowning and you’re her only source of oxygen, and you often have to remind her not to leave marks in places that are hard to hide. You suspect she’s compensating for not being able to touch her other girlfriend, and the marks you do permit her to leave tend to last for days, both silent declarations of devotion and territorial claims to spite Paradeisos, even if they would never know.

Schorl made dating Shalom a whole lot harder than you would’ve liked. You can’t say pretty words of adoration or cuddle and kiss each other without landing you both in scalding water that may very well end with you all three of you killed. So, you have to compensate with more subtle acts of love, such as waking up early to make breakfast in bed for the other instead of one of the maids, or finding excuses to pretty much stay glued to one another for “protection” during missions. It’s not easy, but now that you know how Shalom expresses her love, you are never left in doubt of her feelings.

Despite how difficult the relationship can be at times, you’d never consider breaking up with Shalom and Rahu. You’re overwhelmingly happy, and you hope every day that Shalom’s labor will soon bear its fruits, and you’ll all be free from your yokes – or at the very least, that Paradeisos won’t bring you all crashing back down to earth.

#ptn #path to nowhere #ptn shalom #path to nowhere shalom #shalom #rahu #ptn rahu #path to nowhere rahu #ptn headcanons #path to nowhere headcanons #headcanons

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jasontoddspussy · 8 days ago

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khajiit jason!! can ya do khajiit jason, just him like... either after an assignment from the dark brotherhood gone wrong or someone preformed the black sacrament on the joker and jason finally gets his revenge/justice?

Well, Jason thought, that could’ve gone better.

He knew taking out a target in broad daylight was stupid to begin with, but this couldn’t be called anything but downright sloppy.

The target had been on their own, plucking herbs from the nearby forestry. They’d been armed, unsurprisingly, wolves were a problem after all, but alone. Jason had, originally, thought he’d take them out at night. But after a quick stakeout, he’d been annoyed that their house was placed right in the middle of Markath. Not only did that mean guards would be more likely to spot him, but so would nosy town-goers.

Not that he couldn’t do it. He knew he could.

But when he’d seen them out and alone? He’d taken the chance. He’d been arrogant - Just because he was larger than most, didn’t make him invulnerable.

(He knew it didn’t.)

The target had died easily, not knowing they were dead until they hit the ground from Jason slitting their throat.

But they hadn’t been as alone as he’d thought, it seems, as someone had spotted them and shot an arrow at him. It’d landed right in the meat of his shoulder. He didn’t have time to stay and kill someone else, it wasn’t in his contract, so he fled, trying to keep his bloodloss to a minimum.

It was daylight though, so he wasn’t going to heal until nightfall. He felt overheated and drained. He wasn’t good with magic, so he couldn’t cast a healing spell, either. He knew how, but it cost way too much magicka for him to do the simplest of spells, and besides, he usually didn’t need to. He healed fast.

Jason grimaced, making a quick make-shift sling for his arm and trying to plant pressure around his wound, he made his way to his (stolen) horse, readying himself for a long, trying trek back to the sanctuary.

Back home.

“Welcome back, my love.” Talia greeted by the entrance to the chambers. He’d just finished reporting back to Nazir and had been on his way to take care of his wound. Thankfully, since he was now out of the sun, it would be swift healing.

“Thanks.” He replied gruffly. His den-mother paused, clearly giving him a once-over before sighing softly.

“Damian’s been looking for you.” She said, pulling him to a cot where he sat down. Patiently, she unwrapped his makeshift sling and without any pre-ample, pushed the arrow all the way through so she could break it.

“Is he not to be training?” Jason questioned.

“He is. There has been an event he wishes to speak to you about. This one promised.” She tells him, using a small healing spell to heal his shoulder. Most of their people aren’t all that good at magic, but she, and Grandfather, both excel at it.

It was what captivated Da-Bruce. Before the man left.

“I see. Where can this one find him?” Talia smiled, her even though it wasn’t visible because of her mask, he could still tell.

“He will find you.”

True to her word, Damian found him later that night whilst Jason was reading.

“Brother. I have news.” His brother announced, ears standing proud. He was even wearing war-paint, imitating Jason’s own stripes. He found it endearing.

“Yes? Come sit and tell this one.” He prompted, patting the cushion beside him. Damian sat.

“Someone has performed the black sacrament.. To kill the mad-man who tortured your soul. Do you wish to meet with and create the contract?”

Jason’s blood froze in his veins. He- Would he actually get to avenge himself?

He’d been revived, and turned, by Grandfather with the blessing of Night Mother herself. He wasn’t supposed to be alive, but his family felt he deserved another chance.

His existence betrayed everything he’d been taught growing up with his dad and other siblings, but he was happy- Even.

Even if his old family didn’t want to avenge him.

But this… This could mean he could finally get to put his soul to rest, metaphorically speaking.

He knows Bruce would never. Not so long as that man is mortal.

“Tell me where to find them. I will create the contract.” He told Damian, who handed him a go-back. It was arranged exactly the way Jason liked. His little brother had been prepared.

“Of course, brother. May warm sands guide you.”

The invoker wanted to meet near Morthal, which suited him well enough. Jason walked out of the shadows, seeing the ritual remnants on the ground still, and a man, presumably, sanding with his back to him.

“You called?” He spoke, announcing his presence.

The man didn’t jump, or startle. He simply turned around. Jason stared at the Dawnguard Uniform, at the blue eyes and dark hair.

“Good. I need you to avenge someone for me. Kill Joker, and avenge my brother.”

Said Tim Drake, Jason’s younger brother.

#jason todd #dc #batman #talia al ghul #damian wayne #khajit #the dark brotherhood #tes #crossover #prompt

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amhrosina · 2 years ago

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Little Talks (Namor x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: It's currently 20 degrees in Texas with a windchill that makes it feel like it's below zero. SOS y'all, Texas wasn't made for this weather. Also patiently waiting for Wakanda Forever to come out on streaming platforms so we can all be blessed with HD gifs of Tenoch as Namor <3

Request: Hii can you please write a namor x fem avenger reader where he’s yelling at her for being reckless during missions and he’s doing this because he cares and worries for her safety

Summary: You get hurt during a mission with SHIELD, and Namor is pissed at you for putting yourself in danger.

(Warnings: nothing crazy, minor descriptions of bruises/cuts, Maria is reader's unofficial adoptive parent, angry Namor, but he's only angry because you're an idiot and not taking care of yourself, fools in love, fluffy Namor, etc.)

Translations:

in yakunaj – my love

in ch'ujuk – my sweet

The sky shook with thunder, and you braced yourself against the sides of the hangar as it began its slow descent towards Avenger’s headquarters. Every muscle in your body ached with fatigue and you were sure you’d be covered in bruises the next morning. You weren’t injured anywhere specific, but it hurt if you breathed too deeply and every time you tensed your jaw, you were reminded of the teeth-rattling punch you’d taken to the face earlier in the evening.

Everything went according to plan, sort of. You weren’t technically supposed to be in the line of fire, but you realized halfway through the plan that it would never work if you remained hidden, so you’d moseyed your way right into the den of thieves you were supposed to be quietly subduing. It wasn’t like you were an amateur. You’d been training all your life for situations like that one, and you’d be lying if you said the thrill of a physical fight didn’t get your blood pumping in excitement.

Unfortunately, the aftermath of your hasty decision had left you completely spent, covered in cuts and bruises, and if you twisted your body a certain way, a bone-deep rattling ache would claw its way through your ribs. You were alive, though, and you’d completed the mission, so you were content with calling it a win.

Agent Hill, on the other hand, had begun ranting in your earpiece about safety and backup the moment you’d stepped onto the hangar, and she wasn’t anywhere close to being finished. You listened intensely, unable to get a word in to defend yourself even if you wanted to.

The clang of the hangar hitting cement rattled through your body and you tried not to tense up too much as the aircraft landed. The sudden whir of the rear hatch opening had you moving, albeit slowly, towards the exit, eager to wash the dried blood from your skin. Agent Hill’s voice carried on through your earpiece, and when the hatch had fully opened, her voice flowed both in your ear and in through the air in front of you. You slid the earpiece out of your ear and watched as she stomped up the ramp, stopping in front of you.

“You’re lucky to be alive, girl.” She pointed her finger at your chest, grazing the material with the curve of her nail. Her tone was vice-like, a certain finality flowing through it, but the furrow in her brow revealed what she was trying so hard to hide – concern.

“Maria, I-” You lifted your hands in an innocent gesture as she cut you off.

“You not only jeopardized yourself, but also the mission. And for what? So you could get a few punches in? If you’re itching for a fight, I can get an intern to go a few rounds with you in the training arena, but you cannot just rush into dangerous situations with no backup. I trained you better than that.”

You nodded, agreeing with her in the hopes that she’d let you go shower and get the much-needed rest your body was screaming for. It probably should’ve bothered you that Maria treated you so differently than the rest of the Avengers. You were just as trained as they were, more versed in hand-to-hand combat than any of them, and you’d been smack dab in the middle of the battlefield when the Avengers had fought Thanos. But Maria hadn’t unofficially adopted any of the other Avengers when they were toddlers, so it didn’t bother you when she expected more from you. Maria had saved your life, raised you to live with honor, and personally trained you to be one of the most skilled Avengers on the planet. Letting her yell at you when you messed up was the least you could do for her.

“Go clean yourself up.” She muttered, shaking her head.

You stepped around her, intent on doing just that when her voice stopped you.

“He’s waiting for you over by the river.”

You swung around, studying her figure as she tapped away at her tablet, no doubt arranging the next set of missions you’d be sent on.

“You told him?” You groaned, palming your face. The ache in your jaw made you wince and rub the area more gently.

“He overheard mission control when you decided you wanted to go all Mission Impossible on those guys. I didn’t have to tell him anything.”

“Shit.” You shook your head. You’d thought you’d heard the last of it from Maria, but Namor knew what you’d done, and you knew he wouldn’t be happy with you. You slumped towards the elevator, realizing you would not be getting that rest you so desperately needed anytime soon.

After you scrubbed your skin raw in the shower, cleaning up the dried blood and dirt that had quite literally gotten into places it should never be, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. If you were being honest, it looked worse than it felt, but even you couldn’t ignore the steady drum of adrenaline that had yet to leave your body. Your jaw was slightly swollen, a purple bruise blooming from its underside. A cut along the line of your cheekbone was sure to leave a small scar, and you could physically feel the ache in your ribs every time you inhaled. Everything would hurt tomorrow, and you were not eager to feel the consequences of your ridiculously stupid actions.

You glanced toward your bed, so perfectly soft and comfortable and warm. You ached with desire to jump in it, to ignore the world for a few hours, but you could feel his call, deep in your bones, and it was something you’d never been able to ignore. He was waiting for you, and he would not leave until you showed yourself.

Come to me, in yakunaj. Show me what I almost lost tonight.

You trembled with anticipation. His voice, usually so soft and caressing, boomed with anger as he beckoned you to the river. You were left with no choice but to head down the elevator and out the door, towards the man who had stolen your heart and soul.

Namor met you on the riverbank, storming out of the water at a pace that would’ve been alarming to anyone else. His hands cupped your jaw tightly, and you winced when the ache in your jaw increased to an unbearable throb. He immediately moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, resting his forehead on yours. An apology, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved one.

He was quiet for a few minutes, homing in on the steady drum of your pulse beneath your skin. You leaned into his hold, wrapping your fingers around his wrists in a fierce hold.

“Do you not understand the depth of my love for you, in ch'ujuk?” He asked, pulling his head away from yours to look into your eyes.

“What?” You stuttered, unable to comprehend where he was going with his question.

“I have dedicated my life to protecting you, and you repay me by playing the fool?”

“Namor,” you furrowed your brow, shaking your head in confusion, “my love, what do you mean? I know that you love me. I don’t underst-”

His tone turned fierce, laced with a rage you had rarely seen before. “Then why do you throw yourself into such reckless situations? Do you not understand how terrifying it is to hear you struggling when I am so far away? When I cannot help you?”

An annoyance sparked in your chest, and you couldn’t help the anger from seeping into your tone in response. “It is my job to eliminate the enemy, Namor. I can take care of myself.”

Namor shook his head, clucking his tongue in anger. “Do not act like my anger is unwarranted. You made a reckless, stupid, decision tonight, and you could have died. Did you stop and think about where that would have left me? Without you, I am nothing.”

“You cannot ask me to give up the Avengers, Namor.” You jutted your chin out in defiance.

“I would never ask you to do that.” He replied in a hasty, ferocious tone. “But you cannot act like you are immortal, in yakunaj. You bleed like every other human being on the planet. You could have died, and that would have destroyed me. And Maria.”

“I’m fine,” you groaned, suddenly so sick of being coddled that you felt like screaming. “I wish everyone would stop treating me like I’m some fragile little flower. I am more than capable of handling a few bad guys who, I should add, didn’t even have guns!”

“In yakunaj,” Namor’s voice had cooled to a gentle caress, “You misunderstand me. I know, more than anyone, the power you hold. You are strong and you are used to being independent, but you cannot behave so recklessly when you have a family waiting for you at home.”

“A family?” You blinked back tears as the realization washed over you. Namor considered you his family, and you suddenly felt like an idiot for rushing into your mission so blindly.

“I love and protect you. You love and protect me. Is that not what makes a family?” He asked, slightly grinning.

“It is.” You murmured, leaning into his hold even further. You nestled your cheek against his chest where you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Namor wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.

“You are my life, in yakunaj. I would never forgive myself, or you, for that matter, if you got hurt.”

A laugh stuttered out of you, but it quickly evolved into a wince when you realized just how sore your ribs were. Namor wrapped his hand around yours and tugged you towards the water.

“Come, in yakunaj. The water will heal you.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” You giggled, kicking your shoes off.

“Don’t argue.” Namor grinned, watching as you stuffed your socks into your boots. “At the very least, it will soothe the ache for a while.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Before he could make it any further in the water, you jumped into his arms and planted a kiss on his lips. Your toes barely scratched the surface of the water as he held you up, smiling into the kiss. Your family was small, and rather unconventional, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Tag List:

@thatlesbosimp @legocity2 @softclue @violet-19999 @uwiuwi @omgsuperstarg @purpleetou @Raeluvsbloodline @historygeekgueen @kneelarhmstrung @euphoricjupiter @ethereal-athalia @quackson03 @messymissy @husherstan @quackimilktea @certifiedhunter @shoxji @dazecrea @layazul @bontensbabygirl @jasmihine @brookiecookiez0 @bakulova @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08

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the-post-crow · 30 days ago

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Hey did you know that on the updated model of Scythe phighting her horns subtly fade to black

I have theories on that kinda

Theories:

As we know, scythe is in The Church Of The True Eye, which seems to have the requirement of all the members painting their horns a specific color. Broker is currently the only known exception to this rule, even katana was not exempt as seen in the concept art for his "heretic katana" costume

Now, it could be that the paint just needs to be reapplied or something, but it's kind of strange- we know that her natural horn color is black, thanks to the info from soda on her lore, but even medkit doesn't seem to have the paint starting to melt off on his horns (but that might just be his natural horn color is too similar to the painted one).

Or, the much more interesting option, it's possible that scythe is starting to doubt her faith and consider leaving. Perhaps she's starting to think about her position or lose her bloodlust or something else. Who knows. But for some reason, deep down, she wants to leave.

Some more evidence for this is her dialog with katana, where she shares silence with him. Currently, this is the only instance of this happening in the game. Overall, it feels like she's making a bit of a facade per say. It's possible that her closeness to broker is also a factor, as to why she's staying in the cult. It's clear she's close to broker, perhaps as a sibling or as a possible partner, who knows, she just wants to protect broker for some reason. It also seems that broker is putting up a bit of a facade as well, perhaps for the sake of survival or for the sake of their role.

So, maybe, scythe is planning to defect from the cult along with broker (and possibly medkit), and go on the run for the sake of her and the people she cares about. Perhaps she's thinking of going to thieves den as well to reunite with katana, or maybe something else.

Also, her interaction with vinestaff... perhaps she thinks of the wood curse as a blessing, because of vinestaff never being able to loose that arm? Perhaps, the reason why she joined TCOTTE in the first place, was because she lost her arm, and she was forced into her position?

We may never know, but hey, there's always theories.

#welp! to the abyss!#phighting #phighting!#scythe phighting

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newtonsheffield · 1 year ago

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So obviously we're going to need a spicy sunday of the parent trap au kate and anthony having sex for the first time after they re-meet

Oh bless them. After nearly six years they’re definitely a little handsy. We have to remember that they’re also still only like… 27.

Kate could feel Anthony behind her, feel the tension prickling down her spine as his hand settled on her hip, pulling her back against his chest.

“They’re happy.”

His voice was deep, tickling her ear, the gentle hum of it bringing goosebumps to her arms as she nodded. “It’s probably not great parenting from us to put them in the same bed.”

Anthony chuckled, his arms tightening possessively around her waist. “Tomorrow I’ll get them bunk beds. That’s clearly what they’re angling for. If they want to share a room instead of Miles having the spare room, I’m fine with it.”

Kate nodded, the enormity of the afternoon, this night, settling in her shoulders. She wasn’t leaving London at all. There was still so much to settle and yet none of it seemed to matter. Selling the house in Bristol, bringing all of their things here, none of that seemed to matter. All that mattered was Anthony, with his arm wrapped around her, moulding their lives back together again.

“To be honest, he’s probably gonna need one of the spare rooms for all of his things anyway.” Kate hummed, spinning in his arms to look in his eyes.

He looked older than the day she’d left, his jaw more angular and his beard full now, rather than the stubble he’d left when they’d first met. He’d already taken his glasses off but they made him seem more mature, sensible and settled and grown. This version of Anthony was confident in who he was, he;d processed his grief and come out the other side, confident and focused on his growth, and his son. Their son. And something about that drew her in even more. Everything she’d loved about him was still there. His odd, stiff, sense of humour and his smile was just the same, boyish and charming. He was such a nurturer at heart, he always was and it was the unashamed way he showed it that had lead her to accept the proposal of a 20 year old boy as they stood on the dock, a cruise ship behind them.

“Hey, do you want to marry me?!”

She’d gaped at him then, “What?!”

He shrugged, grinning at her with his shirt unbuttoned and his bare chest shining int he sun. “I’m so in love with you, and I think this could be incredible. Marry me.”

“Yes.”

“So, I’ve also been thinking, that second little sitting room downstairs might make a nice little writer’s den.” Anthony was grinning at her now, his eyes shining, “I’m thinking like dark academia vibes. Huge big desk, leather sofa floor to ceiling bookshelves. We can pick it out tomorrow!”

Kate’s stomach fluttered, “That… sounds really nice actually.”

“I know it does! The smell of tobacco hanging in the air. Give it a bit of gravitas.”

“I don’t smoke?” Kate chuckled, “Have you taken up the habit?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, I was thinking a candle.”

“You… know about candle scents now?”

Anthony preened, his lips brushing hers. “I know about all sorts of things now.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” He pressed against her until she was sandwiched lightly between his body and the wall. “Do you want to talk about how much I know about laundry now? That’s very impressive. Neddy’s little socks are always ironed.”

“I don’t want to talk about laundry.” There was an ache in her chest now, spreading through her entire body at the press of him against her.

“No?” Something dark flashed in his eyes and his lips brushed gently against hers, “Do you want to talk about what a good cook I am now? I’ve taken a lot of classes.”

“I don’t want to talk about that now either.” She let herself relax against him as her lips found his again.

It felt so different, and yet familiar, the press of of his lips against hers. His hands tightened on her waist and pressed her impossibly closer to his chest as their lips moved together and heat built slowly between them. His lips were a little rough and his beard scratched against her skin and it made her spine shiver against him. Anthony let out a low moan at the feel of her tongue against hers. Kate felt her hands twist themselves in the front of his sweater and she tugged him forward until his entire body was pressed against her.

Anthony’s hand slid to her thighs and he tugged her legs around his waist and she heard her own moan echo in the corridor.

“Fuck.” Anthony let out a sharp groan and his hips ground against her, “We shouldn’t have sex outside our twins’ bedroom.”

Kate nodded, but she squeezed her thighs around his waist and her breath came in sharp pants, “Right, we’re responsible parents now. We can’t have sex in the hallway anymore.”

He let out a gasp, and his eyes darkened and she knew he was remembering just the same way she was , “That was a good night though.”

“It was a very good night.”

He let out a grunt as he pushed off the wall and carried her down the hallway, fumbling at the door of the bedroom that had once been hers as well as his. The room that would be hers again. They burst through the door and it slammed shut behind them.

“Do you want the boys to wake up?!” Kate hissed a giggle rising in her throat as Anthony dropped her against the mattress as he tripped over her suitcase left at the end of the bed earlier. “Quiet.”

Anthony looked up at her through the hair falling in his eyes, “Sorry, I never like… done this with my kids down the hall.”

“Me either but I know enough not to wake them up.” Kate chuckled, tugging him forward by the waistband of his jeans.

Anthony leant over her, his knee nudging her thighs apart as his lips found hers again, rougher and deeper this time as his weight settled over her. She let out a loud moan helplessly and her hips bucked up against his before he pulled back, grinning at her. “I thought you said we were being quiet.”

Kate rolled her eyes, tugging his sweater over his head and then her own. His wedding ring and hers were hanging on a chain around his neck just as they had been a few weeks ago when she’d found herself pressed against his wet chest and her stomach had dropped and her body had seemed to remember exactly what to do. Exactly what it would feel like as she moved above him, under him. She hadn’t let herself do what she wanted to then but she let herself do it now. She let herself smile at him and slide the finger of her left hand through the ring and tug gently until his neck bowed to the pressure and his lips found hers again with a desperate moan.

There was a desperate fumble as the kiss deepened between them and Anthony shed the rest of their clothes until there was nothing left between them. He stared down at her, his eyes shining at her, a smile on his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

It settled in her chest and she let her fingers run through his hair. “I love you.”

His smile was so beautiful, “I love you too. Always did.”

Their moans mingled together as their lips met again and the rest of their bodies did as well. Anthony’s forehead fell against hers and his eyes screwed shut. A muscle clenched in his jaw as their hips rocked together slowly.

Oh Holy Fuck Kate.

She nodded against him, beyond words as their bodies met again and again and her hand stayed twisted in the chain around his neck holding them together. Heat was licking at her stomach already, warmth spreading deliciously through her as Anthony kept the steady rhythm between them. Anthony’s cheeks flushed and sweat slicked their bodies. This too felt familiar and different, the angles of his body different but not unsettlingly, it felt comforting, a sign of the growth they’d both gone through and yet they’d found each other again.

Her pleasure built slowly and yet it still caught her off guard as she tumbled over the edge, her body shivering gently against his but Anthony didn’t stop. His hands found her waist and legs tangled with hers minced quickly, rolling them until she was settled on top of him. Her shoulders heaved and her legs shook a little with the exertion as Anthony’s hands tightened on her hips.

“That move used to be your favourite.”

Anthony grinned at her, settled against the pillows smugly, one hand pressed against her stomach the other guiding her. “I still like it. The view is… still stunning.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t have it in her to say anything else as she tossed her hair back, bracing one hand behind her and snapping her hips down against him. Anthony let out a tortured moan and his eyes rolled back and they lost themselves in the rhythm again, moving faster and faster. She could see the red marks her fingernails were leaving on his chest, see the diamond ring shining on her hand and something in her chest burned for it, for Anthony. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the roughness of his hands and the tension in the room was stifling and she felt her muscles coiling tighter again. Tighter and tighter. She felt Anthony’s legs start to shake under her and his hips bucked erratically. His hand tightened on the back of her neck, tugging until their lips met roughly, teeth clashing as they fell apart together.

Anthony’s arms crushed her to his chest as their bodies shook and sweat cooled between them, the smell of them hanging in the air.

“I missed you.”

Kate nodded, kissing his neck gently. “I love you.”

Anthony let out a content little noise, his eyes screwed shut. “I think I should keep the chain. You like that.”

Her laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls. “It’s a bit sexy. I like sexy Dad Anthony.”

He opened one eye, scratching his beard, “Jesus, wait until you see my Birkenstocks.”

“Oh. Be still my beating heart.”

#parent trap au #you’re losing me au #spicy sunday🌶️#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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takincareofbusiness · 1 year ago

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David Stanley shares, "Here's a memory, it takes place in 1973... It's shows how much Elvis really cares for others, even strangers... I was sitting in the den, at Graceland one day... Elvis walked in, and said, let's take a ride Billy... I said, okay, let me grab your wallet and I'll be right back... I jumped up and ran upstairs to Elvis' room and got his wallet, then followed Elvis to the car... We drove around Memphis... As we were passing Sun Studios, Elvis said... I wonder what would have happened if I had listened to my mother... I looked at him, then asked... What do you mean??? Elvis said, Mom didn't want to sign with Col. Parker, she never trusted him... I said, it didn't matter who you signed with, you would have become the King, anyway... Elvis looked at me and smiled, then said, you know my feelings, there's only one true king, Billy... I said, I know... But, you are the King of rock, boss... No one comes even close to you... Elvis smiled again, has we drove along... Has drove down Beale St. Elvis showed me a church, where he use sneak into and listen the gospel singers... Just we passed the church, we saw a homeless man walking in the opposite direction... Elvis looked at me, he said, get my wallet Billy, which I had put in my briefcase... Elvis then made a U turn... And we drove up to the homeless man... Just before we got to him, Elvis said... Give me the money, Billy.... I asked, how much boss??? He said, all of it... Now, before I go any further, I have to say this... Elvis' wallet had so much money in it, that you couldn't fold it, there was about 5 thousand dollars in... I handed Elvis the money, and he placed it between his legs... When we pulled up to the homeless man, Elvis honked the horn... The man turned around... Elvis rolled his window down, and waved the man over, with his hand... The man looked at us a little funny, then walked over to Elvis' side of the car... When the man got to the car, he recognized Elvis... The first thing he said was, Mr.Presley!!! I've been a fan of yours every since you started... I've bought all your records, and seen all your movies... Elvis said, thank you sir... The man cut him off, saying... You are the greatest, sir!!! Elvis, said, thank you sir... Then asked, where are you going... The man said, oh, down to the unemployment office, see if they have any work for me... I'm a little down on my luck right now... Elvis said, well, your luck has changed, sir... Elvis then handed him the money... The man looked at the money... He said, I can't take that sir... Elvis said, please don't call me sir, call me Elvis... The man said, okay Elvis... But, I can't take your money... Elvis said, this is my way of repaying you for listening to all those records and watching all those an silly movies... The man said, Mr. I mean Elvis, if I do take I promise I'll repay you... Then he took the money... Elvis said, you don't owe me a thing sir, it is me who owes you... The man said, God bless you Elvis... Elvis, said, sir he already has... As we drove off, there were tears in Elvis' eyes, and mine... I said, I've NEVER seen anything like this Elvis, that's the kindest act I've ever seen... Elvis said, remember this lesson, Billy... I did..."

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis movie #elvis presley x reader #70’s elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #yandere elvis x reader

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bitchfitch · 1 year ago

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Idk, more rambles about plant elf and big polar bear wolf monster.

Maelgwn, polar bear wolf monster, hates spring. He would never say it out loud, but he detests the season to a truly unreasonable degree.

He dreads it's arrival far more than winter's because winter has already taken everything that it can from him. He feels spring exists just to remind him of that.

His sort hibernate. It's this massive communal thing, all the packs come together in one deep cave to share body heat and wait out the part of winter where the sun never rises. Hes old. Age makes hibernation more and more dangerous every year that passes.

That's part of why he hates spring so much. Winter has taken everything from him, he just needs it to take him too.

Years and years before he would ever give a shit about a king in red whose skin danced with living vine tattoos, Maelgwn had a wife, Amalabairga. She was... Everything. Strong and brilliant and a stubborn workhorse who would lead her people with the same vigor and ruthless determination that she did everything with until her very last breath. They weren't perfect for eachother, But Maelgwn thought it an honor to call her his queen, and a blessing he would never be able to repay to call her his wife.

They weren't perfect, they were both stubborn bulls who bashed heads constantly over the pettiest things. Anyone who didn't know them would assume they despised each other. Anyone who did know them would laugh themselves to pieces over the idea of those two being anything less than absolutely smitten with one and another.

They had pups. Four of them from the same litter. They were so little even when they were already a few years old. They never thrived like they should. The years they had been born into were too harsh, food too scarce and the winds too cold. Maelgwn and Amalabairga adored them more than words could describe.

Everyone besides them saw it coming long before they did. They were blinded by their pride. They were in denial. Neither of them could accept it.

A harsh fall gave way to a harsher winter. The storms came too early. There wasn't time to stock up or put on fat. The winter den wasn't as crowded as it should have been. The sudden freeze blocked off some of the sub packs' routes. It was going to be a horribly cold winter, and they weren't going to have the body heat of an entire pack to keep them warm to the end of it.

There were healers who stayed awake the entire winter to look after the people within the den. To move pups who squirmed too far from their parents back to their sides. To remove the bodies of those that couldn't survive the whole season.

Maelgwn only got to say good bye to the strongest of his four pups. The others went too quickly for the healer to be able to wake him in time. Amalabairga didn't even get that much. Maelgwn often teased her for being a heavy sleeper. He would never do that again.

Neither of them processed it until spring came and the ground thawed enough to lay their frozen pups to rest. Because that's the thing. They could both leave the depths of the cave to sit in the mouth beside their babies, where it was so far below freezing their breath would fill their muzzles with ice on every inhale. the way the four of them were laid... they just looked like they were sleeping, blanketed in fine frost, but still like they would wake along with everyone else come spring.

The healers were used to fighting parents who were in denial. Grief and the disorientation of hibernation could do perfectly reasonable people to do insane things. Like try to stay in the mouth of the den where no living thing could survive for long, or bring their loved ones back to where it was warm.

None of them had expected their king and queen to be the sort to want to lay down beside their lost pups. Both of them had always been so bold and sturdy and stubborn in their refusal to give up. It didn't feel like giving up to either of them. A part of them promised their pups would wake up if they were just kept warm to spring. That was what was supposed to happen after all.

Spring came, and the pups didn't wake. Four new graves amongst thousands more. They didn't even live long enough to earn their names.

Spring gives to summer, Shocked grief turns to rage. It wasn't fair. They did everything right. They were Good Leaders. No one would debate that. They were good parents. They did Everything Right. And it didn't matter in the slightest in the end.

Summer gives to Fall. The years hunts were more than fruitful. They had plenty. If their pups had only made it one more year. Their rage at the situation Needs an outlet. They turn on each other. If Maelgwn hadn't suggested they linger at this hunting ground, if Amalabairga hadn't let them swim in that river. If he hadn't, if she hadn't.

They both new they were being unreasonable lashing out at eachother. Nothing they could have done differently would have made that winter any less cruel. They needed it to be eachothers fault. They needed it to be their fault.

Winter came again. Maelgwn thought he could still see them sleeping in the mouth of the cave. All hibernation long he dreamt of his pups and his wife and of springs they never got to see together. in the rare few moments he would wake to stumble to the underground river to drink, he would dread the next time he opened his eyes. Spring could never come, and he'd be glad for it.

Spring refused to stay its march.

Maelgwn woke to an empty nest. Amalabairga was gone.

Her body wasn't in the mouth. The healers swore they didn't see her go. She was just gone, like she had never been there to begin with.

It would be years until he found out what became of her. The new joy she had found beside a man who could lay her aching heart to ease in a garden that bloomed year-round like it knew nothing but spring.

Maelgwn was never a good match for her, even if they both burned brighter beside one and another. Nothing he could have done would have made her stay even if she did love him every bit as much as he loved her. they were always too similar.

She left him with her responsibilities. Her crown. He was king now, even if he refused to take the title.

So much changed. He got older. He saw many more winters, and through every single one he dreamed of all the mistakes he thought he had made, and all the ways he would do it differently, and all the springs he wanted to see with his pups and their mother. And all the springs he would wake up too without them.

Maelgwn hates spring. Winter took everything from him, and then spring had the gual to remind him of that.

#hi this was supposed to be about Erasyl letting Maelgwn love spring again but tbh i think this one should just be about Maelgwn's grief #child death tw

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sliptohk · 2 months ago

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Prompt #6: Halcyon

The previous day had offered ample openings for the selectors to display their character. A message conveyed by choice of both company and announcer. Everything from demeanor to dress laying a finger upon those scales. Bets were already stacking up at gambling dens catering to the event, irritation and pride on full display as favorites were quickly decided upon. And heavy sums dropping upon the perceived longshots in the whole affair. It was hardly surprising that Silent's crew were the frontrunner. The notorious exporter enlisting them made abundantly clear just how astonishingly skilled there were amongst the many they had hired across the star.

Some blame for the Winds of the Broken Mountain trailing the pack did fall upon Ellory. Had she been her usual exuberant self then that infectious energy would have undoubtedly turned a larger portion of the crowd to their side, but instead things had fallen upon the shoulders of the intimidating roegadyn serving as their vanguard. Sadly, burly bodyguards were not so rare a show as to have drawn any great interest in Ul'dah. And tattooed Ala Mhigans were a simple stone's throw from the gates as one inebriated observer had joked. Shortly before Arlette chased them off with a few swift kicks. One would need to be heavily intoxicated to consider it a wise choice of words so near the gates.

While it may have stung their pride, they did take advantage of the poor reception. Long odds made for excellent payouts when they undoubtedly returned to the city in triumph.

It never hurt to put down a little coin on oneself to supplement the contract.

A blessed one with Raahdi Naseem. The aged artifact collector showed little interest in pageantry or reputation. Their sole concern was the rare find rumored to be lost with the missing courier. And should their partnership be mutually advantageous, there was always more work in the field of reclamations. Things so rarely held grudges over a job. It made for a much more relaxing line of work.

There was little time to linger upon regret with a fresh chance to capture the imagination of observers. Excitable chocobo tugged at their reins with sharp jerks. Heavy feet stamped hard enough to kick up a small cloud of dust. Metal jangled and leather creaked as those eager mounts strained to take off. Only upon the chiming of the sixth bell were they unleashed.

Ellory was the first to give Scirocco his head. Hot wind caught her hair, loosened from its braids for the morning to dry after a thorough cleaning while they enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath. A stream of red snapping behind her as she loosed an excited 'whoop' with stalwart companions following their lead. Others joined them, as We Wretched Few and Hear Us Roar were just as eager to raise a cloud of dust in that mad dash from the city. Just long enough until the morning haze hid them from sight, when they would fall back to a more sedate pace.

Running out one's birds made for a poor start to the lengthy journey ahead.

Merciless ran behind, falling further back by the moment. It seemed they were trusting a solid jogging pace to see them through rather than spending the coin on chocobo of their own. Not that anyone much cared about their reasoning. An advantage was an advantage. And the chanting circle of mages certainly seemed to be looking for one of their own. Aether glimmering about them as they gradually completed whatever mystical ritual they employed to send them whirling off to whatever distant aetheyrte awaited them. The competition was truly on. Ellory's heart soared with the thrill of it.

And her mouth opened into a booming song as fine chocobo ate up malms yet before they would tire.

"Many nights so far away! My mother sure to worry! But fret not ye loving heart! I'm coming in a hurry! Father! Hunt! Fell mighty beast! Your daughter comes in hungry! For loyal friends a welcome feast! Bring honor to our country!"

"Welcome feast for loyal friends!" Frozen Crater bellowed out, before Molten River finished, "We shall accept it humbly!"

As strong as the road may call, returning home to Dravania never failed to salve a deep longing. Ancient forests teaming with game and the raucous sounds of wild chocobo amidst that rugged country. Scirocco ran all the quicker, as if sensing a return back to those self-same woods his predecessors had roamed from time immemorial. Which was admittedly not necessarily an expansive stretch given the lacking oral, and written, history of chocobo as a species.

Though neither Oliver nor Arlette shared the sheer height of excitement as the native Dravanians did, Ellory hardly minded. It was their homeland. Perhaps the others would find it harder to suppress their feelings were they stopping by Gyr Abania or the Twelveswood. They would hardly begrudge them a brief visit, before business called them away to the chilly embrace of Coerthas.

Even as she her mind wandered, her song did not linger. A bubble of laughter at her accompaniment threatened to derail the notes for only a fleeting moment.

"Ward away those frigid nights! We're spoiled by the warmth! In payment ask us anything! In service we'll set forth! Dravania! You call us home! In your rough, demanding voice! Once we left near fully grown! Striplings set aside their toys!"

"Cheerful's still not fully grown!" Crater got a snort of feigned offense for that crack, before River got much the same, "And still she makes such noises!"

"Satchels filled with precious gifts! Proof of our distant journeys! Swell with pride for trophy earned! Of your Winds' name we're worthy! Just beware of foulest lies! No curse from my lips passes! Innocent of boorish cries! Like bloody swivin' arses!"

The brothers sang in unison, "Makes our virtuous ears burn! Vagrant will tan her lass'!"

Turning slightly on her saddle, Ellory finally did break from her song long enough to shout back to the two of them, "You better not tell my mother!"

#ellory sparrow #ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite

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elementclangen · 7 months ago

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Moon 147-Greenleaf

Creekkit (1) and Songkit (1) have remained undiscovered. For now. It’s pretty easy to pass Songkit off as powerless, considering his low power-level. Gladepatch (23) just has to keep reminding him not to drain the plants around him. And if he does, Gladepatch can help regrow them. Creekkit is. . .a little bit harder to deal with. Besides her naturally troublesome personality (putting thorns in Wildcave’s-30- bedding, seriously?), she is quite powerful. Gladepatch has managed to convince the Clan that she’s fire-blessed, as that seems to be her favorite magic to use, but it’s hard for her to keep the others under wraps. She doesn’t understand why she should have to hide. Why can’t the Clan just accept her as she and her brother are? To explain why he’s been spending so much time with the kits (and because he wants to) Gladepatch has decided to adopt the two of them. Maybe he can keep them safe. Chasingskip (59) has also been hanging out in the nursery quite a bit, as she misses being in the nursery and caring for kits, now that hers are grown up. So, she surprises Creekkit with a nicely made mossball to play with. In other Clan news, Peakspots (116) has decided to retire from deputy. He’s been feeling quite worn down lately. The young Wildcave takes his place. He has the drive and the power to do well in the position. Conegoat (30) and Gladepatch are on much better terms after finding the kits together. And Steppemimic (30) even seems to be getting along with Gladepatch pretty well. It feels like he’s finally found his place in the healer's den.

#creekkit #songkit #gladepatch #wildcave #peakspots #chasingskip #conegoat #steppemimic #I love these children #clan gen #clangen #elementmoons #elementclan

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caxycreations · 1 year ago

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Character Intro: Moss Seltz

Moss Seltz is a grey-blue caxy with dark marks around his forest-colored eyes. They have the same color of fur on their hands, in a fingerless glove style marking that extends a few inches up the arm from the wrist. Their hair is a light reddish-brown, and they have several piercings. They have a thick, dark lower lip which bears a lip ring, a dark nose with a septum ring, and ten piercings in their left ear.

As of the start of Tylvinian Tales: The Wolf's Den, Moss is sixteen years old, living with Davina in her high-rise apartment in the city of Gala. Moss is biologically male, and uses they/them pronouns, though does accept others being used so long as it is from a place of love or sincerity rather than maliciousness.

Moss grew up in foster care, bouncing from home to home, many of which were either neglectful, abusive, or both. They ran away several times during their life in foster care, only to find themselves right back in the thick of it. This cycle repeated until they were fourteen years old. The previous year, the system underwent a re-evaluation of their methods of pairing foster child with foster parents, as well as their system of adoptions.

Their life changed quite a bit with this, as the new system required prospective parents to undergo comprehensive psychological analysis, and complete several evaluations, to be screened for any red flags and for assurance they were fit to be parents. With this change, the risk of Moss being paired with a family unfit to raise them were drastically reduced, and through this new system they met Davina Seltz (TW: Artistic Nudity).

Moss was paired with her as a potential parent and child, with Davina meeting Moss but once before deciding what she wanted. With Moss in agreement, papers were signed and they began their new life as Moss Seltz.

Under Davina's guidance, Moss grew to be an independent, caring, and kind-hearted free spirit, learning from Davina and Trace Parker, who came to visit quite regularly. They are much like their adopted mother: nearly shameless, playful, flirty, caring. Moss is also their own brand of generous, kind-hearted, and in some ways, wild and carefree.

They enjoy watching Trace run, and hope to join them in those races soon enough. They have also, through Davina's parenting, grown fond of the local clubs and dance halls, often joining her on nights out. Moss also worships the god Malor quite devotedly, tending to the small shrine in their bedroom once or twice a week, offering stories as gifts to the Fate Scribe, and praying to them regularly.

Moss' Blessing is luck-based, with those around them finding themselves less prone to bad luck, with direct interaction leaving one's bad luck effectively null. While this does not imply giving them good luck, misfortunes they may have suffered otherwise are less likely to happen, or will be less severe should they happen anyway.

Overall, Moss is a well-rounded individual with a heart of gold, raised to never be anything less than wholly themselves. While their past has left them scarred, and some things still set off those conditioned responses and flight reactions, they are slowly working towards being okay with the help of their new family, and are on the path to finding their way in the world.

Credits

Moss Seltz is the original creation of @that-one-enby-onyx, and I am only putting their intro on my blog because they are directly tied to Tylvinian Tales and the characters therein. All credit for Moss' background and concept goes to Onyx.

Tag List

Tagging these folks cause they seem to like my work! If you would like to be added (or removed), just let me know!

@sparrowcraft @moremysteriesthantragedies @thetruearchmagos @a-scaly-troublemaker @snakelovingnerd @the-chaotic-writer @leisoree @amerylise

#relan #literature #writeblr #fiction #modern fantasy #furry #anthro #anthropomorphic #relanianoc #others character

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snowbellewells · 1 year ago

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One More {Part Four}

Oh goodness, Melanie @searchingwardrobes This is still your birthday fic (even though I apologize for taking so long to finish it that we could now be celebrating your half-birthday!) One more chapter after this - and I think by the end of this one, things will finally feel like they are looking up for our younger Emma and Killian...

Also available on AO3, if that’s your preference -

Or from the beginning here on Tumblr

iv. 22 years old (three years old)

“One more move, Henry,” Emma murmured, glancing at her little boy in his carseat behind her as she adjusted the rearview mirror to start out. “We’ll try one more town, okay?” She offered the happily babbling toddler a reassuring smile - really as much for herself as Henry - though he couldn’t agree in words or fully understand her. His gummy grin bolstered her courage all the same.

“Yep,” she repeated with a bob of her chin, putting the loaded car in gear. “This will be the one.” She pulled away from the curb near the small fourth floor apartment she’d rented for the last few years, almost since bringing Henry home from the hospital, and after carefully making sure there was no traffic coming, eased her beat-up yellow VW onto the two lane road out of town.

Despite what she had told Sabine, a friend she had made through Tink Green and whose mother had rented her the apartment she and Henry had called home, Emma didn’t truly have a good reason for moving on . Things had been tough at first - her money certainly stretched to the limit - but she had also found true friendships and gotten as close to putting down roots as she had ever come. Bless Tink’s sweet, mothering soul; the nurse had stuck to her side from the delivery room all through Henry’s infancy and beyond, allowing Emma to finally feel what having a bestie, or even a sister, might have been like. Tink had introduced her to Sabine - no-nonsense, wryly hilarious owner of her own Creole food truck and maker of the best beignets east of Louisiana, and thankfully with a family in all levels of real estate. Between the two of them, they kept Emma afloat, pinch hit as babysitters, and were the only reason she hesitated when the urge to go began to stir within her bones once more.

Despite the small semblance of roots she had established, no place had ever quite felt like where she was meant to stay. Emma couldn’t explain it; she only knew that an itch would start to prickle beneath her skin, restlessness to stir until she couldn’t focus, couldn’t help but think about where she might go next, and then she’d be packing her bags again. Largely due to Henry, and wanting him to have a more stable childhood than she’d had, and the support system she had gained, these three years since his birth had been the longest Emma stayed anywhere since she had lost -

“Nope,” she hissed under her breath, shaking her head fervently as she glanced back to be sure her sharp reaction hadn’t disturbed her little boy’s quiet doze. “We’re not going there,” she admonished herself, forcing away images of the wrung-out despair on Liam Jone’s face as he’d come to deliver the earth-shattering news, the hopeful excitement in Killian’s bright blue eyes when he had left, those front porch steps where they’d both met and said goodbye, and the cozy den at Liam and Killian’s house, where all three of them had laughed and talked and stuffed their faces full of popcorn as they’d journeyed the world via tv travel shows, all scrunched onto the brothers’ small overstuffed couch together. That was only place she had ever left that she truly missed.

By this point, she had lived all up and down the eastern seaboard, from Maine to Florida, and each of the bustling cities and small hamlets had their charms, but not one had ever stuck to her, not the way she felt that a home should do. When Tink had demanded to know where she was heading, why she suddenly had to go, Emma didn’t even have a good reply, other than to say Maine and that she felt like giving it a second chance. She just knew some thread inside was pulling her, and instead of forward to some unknown once more, she was winding her way back.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left so quickly years ago. She had been shattered, yes, and there wasn’t anything holding her there, but she could have been present for a devastated man who might as well have been a brother; they could have grieved together, found some sort of closure and peace. Instead, she had been romaing ever since - as if some new place, some view over the water or the right stretch of highway could ever fill the void in her soul.

Flicking her turn signal, Emma left behind the quiet street she travelled nearly every day, guiding the sturdy older car smoothly onto the busy highway that would have them slowly beginning to wend their way northward. Henry slept contentedly, though Emma left the radio on a gentle, folksy station just in case, hoping the easy rhythms might be soothing if he woke fussy. Her whole world and reason for being sat just behind her in that carseat, and though it had been painstakingly hard to trip, fall, fail, pull herself up, and repeat the whole thing over and again, she wouldn’t choose to live her life differently, or she wouldn’t have him.

Not doubt there would be those who considered her a terrible parent for uprooting her son from the environment he was used to, the extended family who had been there for them both when Henry had colic, or she just needed a few hours to herself, or who were willing to accept rent just a couple days late if her paychecks didn’t fall quite right one month. Emma was well aware that she was working without a net and didn’t have much of a plan either, but then, that had been the case her entire life. When it came right down to it, she had to depend on her own grit and determination - having known a bit of backup and support in the last couple years didn’t undo a lifetime of prior experience.

Plus, if she was to keep a brave face for Henry, to show him a strong, capable front as he got older and doubtlessly more perceptive, then she had to see to her own needs and desires occasionally, whether they made sense to the rest of the world or not. When she finally stopped for the evening, to find them some supper and a motel room for the night, they were almost out of Georgia and up into North Carolina. Henry whined grumpily when she extricated him from the carseat and took his hand to lead him into the all-night Waffle House, but he cheered considerably at the prospect of chocolate chip pancakes, just as she had known he would.

It was only as she curled up in bed that night, surrounding her little boy’s small form with her own body as she attempted to get comfortable on the thin mattress which had clearly seen better days - certainly not a lot of support for her neck and back already stiff from driving for hours - that she found she still couldn’t relax. With a resigned sigh, Emma forced her eyes closed and tried to rest. She’d chosen to make this journey on as small a budget as possible, not wanting to decimate the tiny nest egg she’d scrimped and saved to put away for the future. They could have stayed somewhere a bit nicer, if her earlier life hadn’t trained her to be frugal to the extreme - even now as an adult gainfully employed and getting by better than she might once have been able to imagine.

Thankfully, the thickness of mattresses or the age and wear of motel wallpaper made little difference to a three-year-old. Henry was simply excited by the whole adventure; he’d gotten chocolate chip pancakes, an extra story as he fought valiantly to keep his eyes from closing in sleep, and the promise that tomorrow they would see and ride a real train on the Tweetsie Railroad in Blowing Rock. Emma wondered if she had ever been that easily joyful - happy and unafraid. Unconcerned for what a new day might bring, and excited to find out.

Exactly as she’d wanted, exactly as she’d hoped and sweat and clawed and fought to make reality, Henry’s first three years had been so different from her own start in life. The way he was resting calmly without a care in the world right now, while she lay staring into the dark restlessly, was proof enough of that.

Despite how physically tired she was from remaining alert and driving for so long, Emma was lost in her thoughts, her mind unable to let go of its restless swirl as her limbs had done. She had just forced herself to close her eyes regardless, when she heard the buzz of a text message from her phone on the nightstand.

Rolling over and then reaching out for the offending object, Emma pulled the cell close to her face, squinting a bit without her contacts and much less light than normal by which to see, she stubbornly strained to decipher the type before her on the small screen. It was from Tink, because, of course it was. In some ways, it felt as if the woman had been hovering over Emma’s shoulder, waiting to cushion her falls like her magical Disney namesake ever since they met. It was little wonder Tink would feel the need to make sure they had reached somewhere safe and stopped to rest for the night. Belatedly, Emma chided herself for not messaging her friend with an update first, so she wouldn’t have had to worry.

‘Hey, E – ‘ the message began before charging ahead in her friend’s typical quick, effervescent fashion. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and I wondered if you might be having the same problem and see this. Anyway, I got to thinking, you’re headed for Maine, right? Some place you spent time in when you were younger? Well, I know I told you that I did some practicum hours several years ago at a physical therapist’s office up that way…’

Emma couldn’t help rolling her eyes playfully at her friend’s way of rambling effusively, even when typing instead of speaking aloud. If they were together, she would be teasing Tink to ‘get to the point already’. Instead, she only shook her head and kept reading.

‘While I was there, I met this gentleman… retired Navy, if I remember right… Anway, he was very nice - helpful, dependable… You should look him up once you get settled. You know, if you need restaurant recommendations or to know which repair companies won’t rip you off, that sort of thing. The guy is noble to a fault, probably why we only went on one date because - Whew, girl, was he handsome!’ Tink’s winky-faced, tongue-out emoji had Emma chuckling to herself just imagining the diminutive blonde saying all that in her usual rush of words and accompanying facial expressions. It made her shock at the last lines of text on the screen all the more pronounced, her breath catching in her throat, choking down her windpipe and making her cough and gasp for breath. Reading the lines over again, Emma still couldn’t wrap her mind around how it was possible. She had never told Tink - or anyone - about the Jones brothers, the closest people to family she’d ever had, and yet there it was in black and white: ‘His name was Liam. Liam Jones’ followed by a telephone number and the promise that she wasn’t trying to set Emma up, her feeling on that had been made perfectly clear.

Stunned, Emma sat the phone back on her nightstand before it fell from her nerveless hand and blinked away the moisture stinging the corners of her eyelids. However it had happened, Fate had either an incredibly cruel or patiently hopeful sense of humor. She might have eventually tried to find her self-adopted big brother once more - if she’d ever felt she could see him without Killian and not bawl until she made herself sick - but it would appear that destiny worked on a schedule all its own.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Three days later, having stopped occasionally for picnics in parks, sleep at motels that seemed relatively clean and safe, and a few other attractions that had caught Henry’s fancy, Emma finally found herself at the address she had seen advertised for rent, not very far from the street where her old foster family had once lived. She could have made much better time without stopping as often, but with a three-year-old in tow, breaks were a must. There wasn’t a particular need to hurry anyway, other than the strange pull in her gut which had set them on their current journey. And in truth, why shouldn’t she sightsee and let Henry have a little fun along the way? She meant what she’d told her son, whether he understood enough to hold her to it or not. She didn’t intend to drag him all over the country like some rootless nomad. She would find a way to silence the wanderlust and stay in one place for him; as long as he liked it here, that would be what mattered.

Dusk was just beginning to gather in the evening sky, pink and orange streaks in the clouds darkening to lavender and gray as late afternoon inched toward the night. Emma exited the Beetle, stretching her back with a groan, and moving to round the front of the vehicle and get Henry from his carseat in back on the passenger side. Her hand had just grasped the door handle when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

Wheeling, Emma froze at the sound of her own name whispered hoarsely on the gentle breeze. Blinking and dumbstruck, she tried to correct her vision, knowing she had to be imagining the sight before her.

But the vision didn’t melt away, and her heart leapt, finally daring to believe what she saw. “K - Killian?” she breathed, not sure the words had even come out loud enough to be heard. “Is it really you?”

Tagging a few who might enjoy @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @xsajx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @cosette141 @anmylica @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @thislassishooked @wefoundloveunderthelight @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @winterbaby89

#cs au ff #cs fandom birthday fic #cs angst #young modern au cs #one more #part four

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moths-wc-aus · 2 years ago

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Yellow'fang is disabled, BTW. She has chronic pain i think. Since the series has a past of putting disabled characters in the medicine cat role, why did you choose to keep her there?

ooooo that's a good question!

i don't actually... think she has chronic pain? or is disabled? not within canon, at least (someone correct me if i'm wrong). though the chronic pain may end up being something i add to hf o-o she was definitely forced into the med role in canon, though, you're right about that!

in hf, her transition from warrior to healer goes a little differently. i really liked that thing sagewhisker said in yellowfang's secret; that yellowfang is far too aware of how pain feels to willingly inflict it on others.

so, in hf- yellowfang starts out as a warrior. because of her blessing (the ability to feel others' pain), she ends up spending a lot of time with sagewhisker in the healer's den. she picks up on medical treatments pretty quickly, and begins gathering herbs whenever she's out of camp. the other warriors make a lot of fun about this. as yellowfang gets older, her blessing gets stronger, and she starts holding back more and more in battle. it all comes to a head when raggedpelt is attacked by a badger and she's the only one around to help. she can't stop thinking about how this badger is just trying to live and protect her kids, and she... can't bring herself to hurt it. yellowfang leads it away and gets herself and raggedpelt back to camp unharmed, and she tells sagewhisker and cedarstar that she can't be a warrior anymore. she just can't make herself hurt living beings, not when she knows exactly what they'll feel and how much pain they'll be in. yellowfang is much happier as a healer than she was as a warrior.

#ask #anon #warrior cats #warriors #warriors au #warrior cats au #hf au #healing fire #hf lore & worldbuilding #yellowfang

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virtuousfuta · 2 months ago

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( F. Yang & F. Blake ) " I'll give it to ya that I wouldn't trust most of em as far as I could throw em. Round' here , how well you can shoot, punch, or stab determines how long you get to live. When you think of if that way, you ought to be counting your blessings that Grimm didn't find you and your pack first. Given the fight you were able to put up? You'd be easy pickings for the types that roam around here. S'reason why you don't see any settlements around here. Easy marks for us, easy food for Grimm. Not even Anima's toughest hunters can make it out here, and if you dont believe me? There a few grimm dens I can show ya for evidence for what happens when Anima's council tries to solve a problem without consulting us locals. But getting back to it, let's clear something up from the get go. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart or anything. There's no such thing as a free ride after all ... "

Reaching down to the hem of her pants, unbuckling it, Yang pulled down just a bit to give Blake a picture of what she meant. Showing off her lower half. Still somewhat at attention. Not caring if anyone else behind her saw. She already knew that Blake was like her, so why dance around it?

" You take care of me? You ain't gotta worry about nothin' for tonight. So where would you like to sleep tonight then Ms. ? In here or with me? "

"No, I definitely believe you about the Grimm and such from what little I was able to see during the journey through these parts before I was captured. That and I'm sure you want something out of this in return." Blake replied when Yang discussed the Grimm, bandits, and how the blonde girl in front of her admitted she was no selfless saint. Though, the presentation the other young woman was quick, and told a much more understandable picture of what she meant about the 'sleeping' situation than any form of discussion (subtle or otherwise) could paint for the faunus.

"Huh, guess you have the same problem as me in that regard. Sure, I can take care of you. Still beats staying in this cage with nobody to talk to."

#muse: blake belladonna #anonymous

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ongolecharles · 4 months ago

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DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS (DSR) 📚 Group, Sat July 27th, 2024 ... Saturday of The Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time, Year B

Reading 1

----------

Jer 7:1-11

The following message came to Jeremiah from the LORD:

Stand at the gate of the house of the LORD,

and there proclaim this message:

Hear the word of the LORD, all you of Judah

who enter these gates to worship the LORD!

Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel:

Reform your ways and your deeds,

so that I may remain with you in this place.

Put not your trust in the deceitful words:

"This is the temple of the LORD!

The temple of the LORD! The temple of the LORD!"

Only if you thoroughly reform your ways and your deeds;

if each of you deals justly with his neighbor;

if you no longer oppress the resident alien,

the orphan, and the widow;

if you no longer shed innocent blood in this place,

or follow strange gods to your own harm,

will I remain with you in this place,

in the land I gave your fathers long ago and forever.

But here you are, putting your trust in deceitful words to your own loss!

Are you to steal and murder, commit adultery and perjury,

burn incense to Baal,

go after strange gods that you know not,

and yet come to stand before me

in this house which bears my name, and say:

"We are safe; we can commit all these abominations again"?

Has this house which bears my name

become in your eyes a den of thieves?

I too see what is being done, says the LORD.

Responsorial Psalm

---------------

Ps 84:3, 4, 5-6a and 8a, 11

R. (2) How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God!

My soul yearns and pines

for the courts of the LORD.

My heart and my flesh

cry out for the living God.

R. How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God!

Even the sparrow finds a home,

and the swallow a nest

in which she puts her young—

Your altars, O LORD of hosts,

my king and my God!

R. How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God!

Blessed they who dwell in your house!

continually they praise you.

Blessed the men whose strength you are!

They go from strength to strength.

R. How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God!

I had rather one day in your courts

than a thousand elsewhere;

I had rather lie at the threshold of the house of my God

than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

R. How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God!

Alleluia

--------

Jas 1:21bc

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Humbly welcome the word that has been planted in you

and is able to save your souls.

R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

---------

Mt 13:24-30

Jesus proposed a parable to the crowds.

"The Kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man

who sowed good seed in his field.

While everyone was asleep his enemy came

and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off.

When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well.

The slaves of the householder came to him and said,

'Master, did you not sow good seed in your field?

Where have the weeds come from?'

He answered, 'An enemy has done this.'

His slaves said to him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'

He replied, 'No, if you pull up the weeds

you might uproot the wheat along with them.

Let them grow together until harvest;

then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters,

"First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning;

but gather the wheat into my barn."'"

***

FOCUS AND LITURGY OF THE WORD

Today’s psalm offers a beautiful ode to humanity’s fundamental orientation to praise, worship, and enjoy God. In coming home to the house of the Lord, the Psalmist encounters not just the God of his ancestors, but the living God of the present moment. There is a contemplative dimension to Psalm 84, calling us not so much “to do,” but simply “to be” – to spend time with God in prayer, to let our hearts bask in God’s love, to rest in the courts of the Lord. One can see why the American songwriter Matt Redman’s “Better is One Day,” based on this psalm, became such a huge praise and worship hit.

But the allure of worship can also be a danger, as the prophet Jeremiah reminds us in this challenging first reading. Having served as a greeter at my own parish, I couldn’t help but marvel at Jeremiah’s audacity…and question whether anyone so greeted would come back the next week! But Jeremiah is audacious because God is calling the people to return to the heart of Israel’s law, namely the intertwining of the love of God and the love of neighbor (Deuteronomy 6:5; Leviticus 19:18). Jeremiah recognizes the ever-present danger that religious piety and worship become escapist or compartmentalized from the rest of our lives. Orthodoxy, literally “right worship,” requires orthopraxis, or “right action.” Nor does Jeremiah speak in vague platitudes. Rather, the call to charity and justice is tangible: we should “deal justly with the neighbor,” respect the “resident alien, the orphan, and the widow,” stop the theft, murder, adultery, and lies, and refuse to run after the idols and strange gods that deceitfully promise a fortune in exchange for our obeisance.

Held together, then, Jeremiah 7 and Psalm 84 cut to the heart of the good news of the Jewish and Christian traditions. God calls us to a holistic gospel, connecting mind, body, and spirit, inner and outer, personal and social. We are called to recognize that genuine spirituality entails reforming our lives and reflecting in action what we profess with our lips. Yearn and pine for the courts of the Lord, yes, but first love your neighbor and do justice to the innocent. Then, by the grace of God, may we be counted among the wheat on the day of final harvest.

***

SAINT OF THE DAY

Saint Titus Brandsma

(February 23, 1881-July 26, 1942)

Saint Titus Brandsma’s Story

Given the birth name Anno, Brandsma and his siblings grew up on their parents’ dairy farm in rural Frisia. As devout Catholics, the family was in the minority among their Calvinist neighbors. From age 11 Anno was educated at a preparatory school for boys who were studying for the priesthood. He joined the Carmelite novitiate in 1898, taking the name Titus in honor of his father.

In the years following his 1905 ordination, Brandsma received a doctorate in philosophy and initiated a project to translate the works of Saint Teresa of Avila into Dutch. One of the founders of the Catholic University of Nijmegen, he served as a professor of philosophy and the history of mysticism at the school. While there Brandsma was known more for his availability to faculty and students than for his academic achievements.

Working as a journalist Brandsma served as ecclesiastical advisor to Catholic journalists. His long-standing opposition to Nazi ideology came to the attention of the Nazis when they invaded the Netherlands in 1940. In direct opposition to the Third Reich, the Conference of Dutch Bishops sent a letter ordering Catholic newspaper editors not to print Nazi propaganda. Fr. Brandsma was arrested while hand delivering the letter in January 1942. After being imprisoned in several other facilities, in June he was taken to the Dachau camp in Germany.

During his brief time at Dachau Fr. Brandsma was well-known for his kindness and spiritual support of other prisoners. His death on July 26, 1942 was a result of the Reich’s program of medical experimentation on prisoners. He gave a wooden rosary to the nurse who administered the fatal injection; she later became Catholic and testified to his holiness. In recent years Brandsma has been honored by both the cities of Nijmegen and Dachau. Titus Brandsma was beatified in 1985, and canonized in 2022.

Reflection

----------

Conscience often creates martyrs. That was the case for Titus Brandsma. Many people “go along to get along,” not realizing that by doing so they are destroying themselves internally. In his homily at the canonization Mass Pope Francis said, “Holiness does not consist of a few heroic gestures, but of many small acts of daily love.”

Saint Titus Brandsma is a patron saint of:

Catholic journalists

Friesland

International Union of Catholic Esperantists

Tobacconists

***

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#climate change #astronomy #astrophotography #biology #book quotes #inspirational quotes #marine biology #nasa #relatable quotes #romance quotes #daily scripture readings #daily scripture #catholic church #catholics #charles ongole #ongole from kumi

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