#and carries the sentiment wherever they go

[omanu]

i just watched the new netflix docu about elvis' comeback show..... god i wanna kill myself. it was a tad dramatic but i get the sentiment, it was so good to see him like that. i never really thought about the stakes at the time, i wish we could know more about what was on elvis' mind but it makes me happy that ppl saw the genuineness in him, i wish life had been kinder to him too... godddhdjs thats why i really dont like watching docus abt him everything is so bittersweet, my heart hurts all the time i feel sorry for him and his family and shit like, it's just really tragic to me, I've always felt like this toward him even before becoming a fan. i wonder what kind of energy spikes this feeling in my brain

[darkmuffinstudios]

headcanons/delusions that i have for the bad sanses part 86 because i'm not normal

(apologies for the length this post will be. I needed to write all of these down or I would explode <3)

(These can be general headcanons, found family, queer platonic, or poly if you want to interpret them in any way ^^)

All of them. Every single one is touch-starved.

Despite all being touch starved, all of them have different (typically negative) responses to being touched suddenly/without warning.

Killer's love language is touch, both giving and receiving (funnily enough).

He also has a habit of sneaking up on the others. This is half-unintentional, since he's light on his feet naturally and makes no sound whenever he walks.

For no coincidence at all, Killer also has been thrown the most by the gang.

He doesn't resent them for it at all.

Cross wears his old uniform (despite his initial dislike for the design) a lot. He claims its out of habit, but deep down, it's because it *proves* that he was worth something once. It's his accomplishment as a royal guard, and that's something that despite the bitterness of the job, he takes pride in. Yes, he still hates the design, and yes, he hates how complicated it is. But he also appreciates the attention to detail, how meticulous and organized you have to be to put it on.

If the last bullet point didn't emphasize enough, Cross has self-worth problems.

So does Killer, but he's accepted it.

Nightmare has a catacomb of trinkets and items alike that has grown sentimental value over the years. He visits there when he's feeling particularly nostalgic, usually in the quiet of the night.

Dust doesn't like seeing his own bones. Gloves, long sleeves, scarves, hoods, slippers and socks- nothing can show. It's probably because of all the dust that practically clung to him from all the people he's killed. It's stained his fingers, his knuckles, his feet.

Horror's eye can actually roll to the other side of his head if he tilts his head enough. No, it isn't painful.

Something very stupid that Horror does (rarely) is he stores small things in the hole in his head. Yes, that one can hurt if forgotten.

Killer has so many cats that it's a problem. Nightmare can't bring himself to make him get rid of any though.

Dust has trained a murder of crows in Nightmare's realm. They follow him in the trees whenever he goes out to walk, and he keeps small pieces of food from his dinners to feed them.

Cross cannot, for the life of him, hide whenever he feels embarrassed (and he feels this often).

Not to say Cross can't mask his emotions. You know, with all the royal guard training and all. And the trauma.

Nightmare suffers from chronic insomnia. He can't bring himself to relax enough to. Although, he doesn't mind mimicking the behavior when he naps with any of the guys, if only to encourage them to sleep.

Nightmare feels safer when sleeping near or with someone in his bed. I'd say its because he probably got jumped as a kid whenever he slept. They're all long dead, but do it enough and the body never forgets.

Killer always picks up small little gifts for the guys every time he goes out. He'll look at something and go "Hey, he'd like that", and nab it. Probably a behavior he picked up when Nightmare first brought him on, since he noticed Nightmare liked to collect things.

Cross's love language is receiving gifts and words of affirmation. (haha). Everyone has picked up on this already, and abuses this knowledge to no end.

Horror waits for everyone to start eating before he eats his own food.

Horror also always carries emergency snacks/food bags with him wherever he goes. Not necessarily for himself though.

Dust loves pancakes. His mood immediately improves if he eats them.

Killer has a large scar that never quite healed right.

Nightmare used to write with a feathered quill. Killer had gotten him a very nice fountain pen long ago though, and he's since abandoned the quill.

Horror has a garden in the back that Nightmare helps him out with. Horror was more interested in crops and harvest, while Nightmare was particularly fond of flowers and trees.

Dust, Killer, and Cross help out with the garden sometimes. They just don't maintain it as diligently as the aforementioned two.

Dust paints. Killer joked about it being therapeutic and artsy and shit, but Dust actually ended up liking it. He could finally express the mess inside his head without any words.

Dust has his own painting room in a part of the castle. It has lots of windows and art hung on the walls.

All the gang occasionally visit Dust while he paints, most simply sitting and watching the brushstrokes. The only one that has actually also drew in that room was Cross. Dust and Cross kind of bond like that.

Cross helps the most with cooking. Horror typically likes to be in charge of the meals/food in the house, but greatly appreciates Cross's help. He feels he's the most reliable, anyways.

Killer does whittling/woodcarving. He makes little figures, knives, intricate pieces, coasters, kitchen tools, etc. His favorite to make is little cat figurines though.

Cross's room is the most clean/organized/empty. Unlike the others, he didn't customize his room in the slightest (keeping the bare minimum of bed, dresser, shelves, etc.).

It is the MTT's mission to fill Cross's room with so many things. Dust gifts Cross paintings to hang on his wall. Killer places little wooden cats on his shelves. Horror places a secret snack stash for Cross, and continually resupplies it.

Nightmare can play a lot of instruments, actually.

Killer has begged on his knees (dramatically of course) to hear Nightmare play ever since he found this out (which was before any of the others even joined). Nightmare doesn't humor him though.

For the life of him, Killer cannot sing. It makes him so mad. Like, he's off-pitch, tone-deaf, off-beat.

Which is funny since I think all the others can sing very well. Horror hums in the kitchen sometimes, Dust sings quietly to himself in his room, Cross is too shy to sing but can, and Nightmare is just musically inclined.

Killer is a little insecure about it.

Okay, he's very insecure about it, but that doesn't stop him from belting out his favorite song like a fool. Like, he understands he's bad, and accepts that fact whenever he's feeling extra confident. But the times he isn't... yeah.

Horror likes it when someone naps on him. Free weighted blanket.

Dust often naps in the weirdest places. In closets, in the wedge between a table and couch, on a high-window sill.

Dust also has back problems. I wonder why.

(A personal favorite of mine: ) Nightmare keeps someone to his right/keeps his tentacles to the right of himself. Since he lost his eye, he has quite the large blind spot, hence why he compensates for it with one of his boys/his tentacles.

Nightmare isn't actually all that athletic. Whenever they all go out, he's always the one that gets left behind the most.

Cross has a habit of matching the walking pace of the person he's with.

Horror can pick up all of them. Very easily. With one hand. Not all at once, of course, but if Dust or Killer are trying to sneak some snacks before dinner, he grabs them by the scruff of their jackets.

Horror lets Cross eat snacks though (encourages it, even. Bro should probably eat more).

Nightmare is a tea-holic. He has a large supply of all of his favorites in the kitchen cupboards. He keeps medicinal ones in both the kitchen and infirmary. They have several kettles. He collects tea sets.

Killer is the best at making tea. Something about his attention to detail, as Nightmare puts it.

The only person that drinks coffee regularly in the castle is Dust. He needs it to deal with everyday bullshit. Coffee makes Cross, Killer, and Horror too antsy. Nightmare sometimes drinks coffee, but not often.

Both Horror and Dust hate it when you change the laundry detergent. They are very particular about the smell. They very much like the scents they chose, thank you very much.

I HIT THE WORD LIMIT??????

I didn't even realize I was writing that much, but I guess I got pretty carried away, haha.

This was downright therapeutic though- I might to this again soon/some other time ^^

[rinnstars]

being yours!

let him be useful to you

itoshi rin x reader: yandere ish?, angst on rin’s part, not proofread + likes n reblogs are really appreciated!

he’s used to be being left behind - its a common occurrence for someone that’s used to being silenced to fit in, from being left out of class discussions, to being left behind by friends and eventually even his own brother that swore to be with him until the end of time. and sometimes, despite your reassurance and love that he doesn’t once doubt, he thinks you’ll be better off without him - you’re much more talkative and extroverted, youre friends with everyone else that he has probably never talked to, youre much brighter than he is. and sometimes, he thinks youre truly better off without him - you’ll get to have lunches with all your friends rather than sit around beside him in the empty classroom eating, you’ll get to go home early without waiting for his football practice to end, you’ll no longer have to deal with a bother like him that rather dulls the mood.

so he’ll make up for his subpar personality he feels, make up for the way he self-destructs and leaves you on read on hard days, make up for the way he can’t be the picture-perfect boyfriend that he knows you adore from your collection of love mangas in your room or from korean and chinese dramas you talk to him about. he’ll settle for being useful to you, after all people wont throw away things that are useful to them right? he knows you wont - you keep our digicam despite its battery issues simply because its still usable to take photos of you and him, you keep your old and flat heat pads because you can still use them when your stomach hurts a little too much, you keep your old water bottle despite the few times it leaks. and sometimes he wonders if you keep him around because you like the sentimentality of your relationship, after all you’ve been with him since you two were kids the same way you keep your old photo albums and toys and textbooks because you can’t bear to throw away because of the memories. he hopes you keep him around because he’s useful - he’ll carry your heavy bag to and from school, even in between classes, he’ll help you queue up for lunch letting you rest about and talk to your friends in the meantime, he’ll pick off the ingredients you don’t like off your food with his hands carefully without any flaws. he hopes he’ll be useful to you - he’ll be the tissue to wipe away your tears either with his lips or with his hands, he’ll be the heat warmer that recently stopped working whenever your hand or legs grow cold by embracing you with his warm self, he’ll be the sweet treat for you, transferring candies hidden in his mouth in yours as he merges yours and his lips into one. he wants all of him to be useful to you - his hands will carry and hold any burden that’s too much for you, whether emotional or physical, he wants his legs to carry you without a single stumble to not make you doubt yourself as he carries you as though youre a royalty in a horse carriage to wherever you want to, he wants his eyes to help you find items you keep dropping and missing whether that be pieces of papers, hair ties, or even house keys.

and he’ll work hard to be your pride and joy - be the best striker in the world, be better than anyone else, be the best infatuation you’ve ever had. he wants your attention on him no matter what - please don’t look away from him, not even for a second. he thinks you just might be the sun to his chloroplast-like body, his sole reason that he’s still breathing if only for you. and maybe its stupid, its childish to want you to look at him, even if its simply because he’s helping you out - he craves it. so use him, milk him for all he’s worth and keep your eyes on him - he wont ask for anything more. because that means even if you fall out of love one day, even if the look in your eyes is becoming less and less infatuated, even if you no longer feel this same burning fire that will consume him, you’ll stay with him - the same way you still keep pens that no longer have inks, notebooks that have run out of empty pages, earphones that no longer connect properly to your phone for the memories.

but for now, when that school bell rings, he’ll without fail walk up to your desk, pack your things with you and carry your bag for you just to see you beam at him like an angel with that look full of love he knows he’s already addicted to.

[cosmopoliturtle]

Dune Lung - Vernorexia Bestiary

"Sand has been piling up in the wildlands lately. A sigh of Spring’s breath, billowing past ruins of old kingdoms, bringing us mementos in the form of scattered ash– roiled petals of the long dead. Folk say the sandy breeze carries the lost voices of ghosts, murmuring goodbyes to loved ones and last hymns to anyone who would hear them. Wherever the dust piles up most, the voices seem to be stronger and more numerous, and curious folk go missing.

The source of these uncanny utterances are Dune Lungs: once a deterrent of monsters, they have since joined their ranks. Kingdoms once further along than ours discovered certain sounds could be channeled through communication apparatuses to ward away or paralyze the angry beasts marching through the growing desert. It was trial and error to find the right frequencies, but once identified, they could be weaponized to great effect.

For many generations, sacred sounds kept these kingdoms safe, but Spring is a patient devil. The petals of the departed clogged the contraptions, and the lingering anguish within their essence animated them into hungry golems. With voices that bristle with electricity and heat, they speak false affirmations and sing melodies to lure prey into a sentimental stupor, knowing exactly what the desperate or the melancholic want to hear. I feel guilty admitting that when I find the night hours vexing, I have sat on the rim of their hunting grounds, the faint music under the sand helping me sleep. During dawn’s first light, regardless if a potential victim is near, I can hear them mumbling together: “the angels are coming, the angels are coming…”

Vernorexia

Omens of Spring

[look-at-the-soul]

Every little thing you do- Part 8

Tommy Shelby x reader

Master list

A/N: another part, another thank you for reading and following this series! I had the initial idea for this chapter for Tommy and Y/N to witness something that brings them closer, then I realized it got longer than I expected 🫢 so I’ll have to hold the introduction of another character for the upcoming part 🤭 bare with me in this ride! And enjoy the slow burn 🥰

Word count: 3,595

Gypsy poem mentioned

“Mr. Benston, what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Tommy held the receiver against his ear.

“Mr. Shelby I hope you’re doing well.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at the fake sentiment, he wanted to end the call as soon as possible.

“There’s really no other way to tell you this, but here it goes…” Tommy heard him sigh at the other end. “Rumors are spread easily and unfortunately, people believe it wherever it’s true or not.”

“I’m not following you.” Tommy stated, getting annoyed by the minute, he wanted everything done right and fast. “Where do you want to go with this Mr. Benston?”

“Mrs. Benston overheard our maids talking about the woman in charge of the charity, I know she’s close to your family and I’m not judging you, to be honest. But if I’m donating money I don’t want it to be involved in gossip and rumors.”

Leaning on his desk, Tommy looked at the ceiling and felt his jaw clenching. “What rumors are you talking about?”

“The maid assured my wife, this woman in charge…”

“YL/N. It’s Miss YL/N.” Tommy corrected him.

“Miss YL/N doesn’t know who the father of her child is. At some point she even mentioned the child is yours therefore why you put her in charge of the charity.”

The last thing Tommy wanted for Y/N was this exactly, having her rolling from mouth to mouth, people taking about her, walking over her reputation. The realization hit him hard and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a attempt to remain under control.

“There are morals and values we still swear by Mr. Shelby… and you can have as many children outside marriage as you please, but the charity needs a woman who’s at certain level, a match for our society.”

“Mr. Benston so your main concern is Y/N’s reputation because she’s not married.” He swore under his breath. “Or because you’re unsure if I’m that baby’s father.”

“That’s correct.”

“With all due respect, it’s a personal matter so that’s none of your business in the first place.” Tommy took a deep breath. “Secondly, how would it make you look in front of your beloved society if people knew about the affair you had with your maid, which led her to get pregnant with your child and since your wife wasn’t able to carry one, you stole that baby from the mother and locked her in a mental hospital?”

A heavy silence set between them.

Tommy knew a lot of dirty secrets and a bunch of respectable people who were everything but respectable.

“Hmm?” He added more pressure to the wound. “Mrs. Benston has been doing a wonderful joy raising a boy that isn’t hers by blood, a Benston heir right?”

Again, silence at the other side.

“Maids are a wonderful thing huh? They know a lot of dirty little secrets…”

Y/N strolled through the Shelby Company Ltd. under the curious eyes and glances of the secretaries, she definitely noticed the way they stared at her from head to toe, stopping an uncomfortable amount of time in her belly.

What were they looking at?

Why would they turn around and start mouthing to the closest secretary something she couldn’t understand?

Fixing her eyes on the floor, she decided to keep walking, this would happen sooner or later, she just needed to create an armor around her, a strong shell to protect her and her baby from judging glances and people with bad blood.

Knocking softly on Tommy’s door, she opened it and poking her head she found him inviting her in, but she got the hint to remain quiet while he was on the phone, so she took seat in one of the couches, her legs were on fire, she wanted to take a long bath.

“So I think from now on, you’ll double your generous donation Mr. Benston correct? Did I hear you right?”

Throwing a quick glance in Y/N’s direction, he winked at her. The phone call turned around quickly and ended with Mr. Benston being backfired,

“Yes, the Shelby Institute feels so thankful for your selflessness. Bye.” Hanging up, Tommy turned around to place the phone in its place.

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “What was that?”

Tommy cleared his throat and went on to pour himself a glass of whiskey. “Just a really wealthy man willing to donate the institution a generous amount each month.” He explained with a wicked smile.

Tommy felt bad for lying to her, but he couldn’t bare to hurt her. He just hoped the word wouldn’t spread like gunpowder around.

“Oh… well I just came to show you the numbers Michael did, considering what we already raised,” she sighed loudly.

“What is it?” Tommy eyed her from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know what’s going on outside but all your secretaries were giving me strange glances, as if they’ve never seen a pregnant woman before.” She chuckled.

Tommy’s head snapped in Y/N’s direction, her words caught his attention, he was always a step ahead of everyone and everything, how could he didn’t see this coming?

Something made click in his mind instantly. Someone must’ve spread the word around, therefore the sudden call he got and what Y/N just mentioned. Feeling a sudden urge to protect Y/N, Tommy decided to do something to distract her, he didn’t want her to suffer and pay for something that wasn’t her fault.

“Come with me.”

And Y/N did, she followed him because she knew there was no way to say no to him. She waved at Esme goodbye on their way out, a few days ago she announced her pregnancy with barely a bump, and now Esme was showing almost as her.

“May I ask how is the business doing?” Y/N asked in a low tone, wondering if she was interrupting his thoughts. Shuddering in the process, that business was almost a secret, the Shelby brothers were communicating through glances when anyone else was around.

“No.” Tommy answered in a serious tone but then wrinkles appeared around the corner of his eyes when he smiled. “Don’t be noisy.”

“I’m not noisy.” Y/N pouted.

“Yeah sure.” He was back into his usual self teasing and joking with her. “Do you know Russian?” Y/N shook her head. “Then you can’t help.”

“Ah come on, you don’t speak Russian either.”

Squinting his eyes, Tommy started speaking.

“save ami se

hi slobuzenja

ami jaul

o lungo drom”

It took Y/N several seconds to catch his words, but her mind suddenly remembered.

“You’re a bad liar.” She immediately went back in time, an ancient Romani poem he showed her years ago, but he was making a Russian accent. “in the forests

we respect

animals flowers trees

when we build our fire

we always clean up after us.” She continued the translated version.

Tommy gave her then a surprised look. “You still remember it?”

“Proud gypsy.” Y/N nodded.

How could she ever forget? How couldn’t she go back in time to that day when she went to play outside and meet a boy that was pretending to ride a caravan -a made shift with a sheet and pulled by a horse. He was shy and reserved at first, but she was fascinated by the endless stories he told her about his gypsy roots and tales on the road.

She spent hours listening to him speaking roca -with the proper translation of course-, and eventually he found the poem in his mother’s notebook.

“Even then, you were always worried about everyone.” She noted.

He had always been protective over those who he loved.

“Bad habits die hard.” Tommy chuckled, his childhood wasn’t always easy, but she definitely made it better.

Y/N wondered how different he would be if things happened differently, if his mother was still alive, if they didn’t have to go to the war… if she didn’t thought Scott was a good distraction. But she was forced to put her thoughts aside, as she felt urgency to pee. “Can you stop the car?”

“Why? What happened?”

“Just stop it… I need to take a wee.” She explained embarrassed.

Tommy looked around, they were in the middle of nowhere. “Let me get closer to those trees.”

She bit her lower lip, pray he’d hurry up. “Are you sure an animal won’t bite me here?”

“If something bites you it doesn’t matter, just spit in the wound.”

“That’s gross!” She defended.

Tommy gave her an amused look. “You don’t know right? Pregnant women salive is full of properties that cuts off the venom of snakes.”

The surprised look Y/N gave him assured Tommy that she didn’t know.

“How do you know that?”

“A snake bit me back in the day, my Mum was pregnant with Ada she used her spit and covered the wound with a clean cloth and here I am, strong as a horse.”

“Do you always have to refer to an animal? What’s wrong with you?”

His chuckle resonated into the deepest parts of her soul as she climbed out of the car to find a safe place to take a wee -as safest as the trees could be of course-.

Tommy took a cigarette, he was aching for a smoke. The road was practically deserted, but still he was always looking around, keeping an eye just in case. Anything could happen in a blink and he needed to be alert.

“Are you done?!” He shouted over his shoulder, just to piss her off.

“Would ya give me a fucking minute?!” Y/N shouted back mortified.

This wasn’t practical at all, she felt like an animal in the wild, but this was all she got for now and she needed to stick to it. Besides it wasn’t like she could hold it for so long.

Cleaning herself she tried to rush back to the car, huffing from the effort. “Sorry about that, can’t control it.” She apologized getting in the car again.

Tommy held the passenger door open for her while blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

“It’s alright, needed to stretch a bit anyways.” He grinned. Who would’ve told him he’d stoping his car in the middle of nowhere for a pregnant woman to pee. “So… did Polly tell you already?” Tommy asked giving her a side glance.

Y/N couldn’t help to smile big. “I asked her to not tell me. Did she tell you?”

Tommy started rubbing his chin, a soft smile decorating his lips as he kept his eyes on the road again.

“Don’t tell me, I just want this baby to be healthy.”

“I really don’t understand how she knows, but she got Ada’s right and I remember she did the same with my Mother when she was pregnant with Finn.”

“She could use her talent and charge for it.” Y/N joked about Polly’s gift to predict the baby’s sex.

“See, that’s a brilliant mind, always sell your abilities.” Tommy encouraged. “Alright, this is it.”

Y/N noticed Tommy took a right and entered a different road. The property was as big as his own house. She could only think how tired she’d be to have to go from one room to another, poor maids who had to clean everything.

The gardener tipped his head towards Tommy knowledging him, while he moved as if he owned the place. Y/N following his steps, feeling like she really didn’t belong there.

“Need to have some rest? It’s a long way.” Tommy looked over his shoulder to make sure she was doing okay.

“No, I’m fine.” Her eyes stopped at the pond, it had fishes.

“Gold fish keeps the worms away from the horses.” Tommy explained, reading her mind.

Y/N gave him a doubtful look. “Are you messing with me?”

But Tommy shook his head. “Never, I swear it’s true. It helps to keep the water clean.” He crouched down, inviting her to do the same. “Go on, you can touch them.”

To show her it was alright, Tommy tipped his hand inside, making a circle with his finger.

When she was about to dip her finger too, Tommy spoke again.

“Careful, they can bite your hand off.”

Y/N gasped in shock at first, then when she realized he was only joking, she laughed. It was a strange sensation, the skin felt flaky against her touch made her giggle.

“I hope the horses won’t eat the fishies.” She added and then saw Tommy rolling his eyes. “Oh what? You’re the only one allowed to make jokes?”

Y/N shook her hand towards him, making a few drops land on his suit and vest.

Tommy clicked his tongue and pretended as if he would throw water at her. Y/N squealed giving her back at him, feeling like they were teenagers again playing by the river.

“Follow me, I want you to meet Apollo.”

“Your horse has a name?” Y/N asked perplexed.

“Of course, they all do.” He pointed at the floor for her to be careful with the hay. “This good boy is going to win the next Derby.”

Y/N saw Tommy stood in front of the box and gently caressed the animal, taking his time to ask how he was doing, check behind his ears and take a look at the mare’s body. He had always been a horse’s man, the amount of time he spent brushing that white horse his mother gave him, no one knew where it came from, but Tommy assured her it was a fine horse, he had magic in his eyes and now she was witnessing the way the horse followed Tommy’s steps like he was kind of under a spell.

Y/N noticed the way Tommy’s energy changed, it was indescribable but he turned into someone completely different. They were in a bubble, in their own little world, like they were one soul divided in two bodies.

And it almost made Y/N feel jealous of the closeness and complicity between Tommy and his horse, she could hear him whispering sweet little nothings and the way the horse made little sounds in response.

Then the horse stared at her and started moving slowly, tipping his head down. At first Y/N was shocked to feel the moose against her stomach, but Tommy told her it was alright, his horse wouldn’t hurt her.

“It’s like he knows I’m pregnant?”

“Oh he does,” Tommy nodded, “I just told him.”

“Is this another of your jokes?” She laughed nervously as the horse breathed against her baby bump.

“I never joke about horses, Y/N. He knows there’s a life growing inside you, they understand more than we do.”

There was something in his blue eyes that she couldn’t name, something that was making her hold his gaze. Something so profound she never experienced before. It was both terrifying and calming at the same time.

And then, as if the moment wasn’t intense enough, she felt her baby wriggling inside her for the first time.

“What is it?” Tommy asked with concern in his voice.

“The baby… is moving.” She explained.

Grabbing his hand in a blunt movement, she placed it on top of her blouse, giving him a few seconds to feel the movement against her side.

“Oh wow.” Tommy finally managed to feel a small but determined movement against his palm.

“Over here.” She changed his hand in another direction. Her hand covering his, she could feel Tommy holding his breath as his eyes shot up to find hers, surprise written all over them, this was something he had never felt before.

“Is this something good?” He asked in a whisper.

“I think the baby started moving when the horse was close, like the baby feels the horse around.”

Was this what a new life felt like? The miracle of a tiny human growing inside her?

Tommy could feel his heart about to explode, to be able to experiment something so personal, so profound, something that wasn’t meant to be his.

He, the ruthless leader of a gang, the heartless Small Heath Devil, there he was with tears blurring his vision and emotions making him feel things he had never felt before.

This baby wasn’t born yet and it was already his weakness.

The only time she had seen Tommy cry was when his mother passed away. He rarely allowed his emotions to the surface and Y/N knew too well this meant to him so much more than he could than he could actually put into words. Her unborn child somehow managed to get under his skin, past the high wall Thomas Shelby had built around him.

And now she was emotional too.

Tommy had been nothing but a gentleman to her, looking after her every need and wish during the hardest time of her life. And instead of pointing a finger and judging her actions, he welcomed her under his wing to protect her from the cruel world outside.

Without a doubt, Tommy was the best man she knew.

“It feels like a huge butterfly’s wings fluttering.” She explained.

Tommy felt lost for words, there was nothing he could say that could match what he felt.

A part of him felt guilty for stealing the baby’s father place and get the chance to experience all of this, but the other part told him he wasn’t doing anything wrong, because the baby’s father actually chose not to be involved. And in that moment, he made a silent promise to look after that child as his own.

Someone clearing his throat interrupted them. “I’m going to clean the barn, and the smell can be a bit strong for the lady.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tommy muttered, still altered by his feelings, so he turned around and walked his horse into the box, then he guided Y/N outside.

And then he did the only thing he knew when he wasn’t sure how to deal with his feelings. “I think it was the way your baby is telling you about his or hers future horse.”

Y/N gave him a shocked glance. “No, no way. Tommy you can’t buy my child a horse!”

“Who’s gonna stop me? You?” He scoffed. “Besides, I‘m that baby’s godfather remember?” Tommy announced proudly.

She groaned. “Don’t make me regret it.” As they started walking towards his vehicle, Curiosity won her over. “Who lives here?”

“My horses’ trainer.”

“No way, really?”

“Her husband passed away so she took over his business and with her family’s wealthy, well she became filthy wealthy.”

“So the horse training is just a hobby?”

Tommy shuddered not wanting to get too deep into that conversation. “Probably, once you have money you always want more and more.”

Y/N took his hand when he approached the other side of the vehicle.

The weight of his words sinking in her mind.

“That’s how it works? That’s what you want? More money?”

Tommy swallowed hard, Y/N always knew what to say to get his attention, the truth -he sometimes didn’t want to hear-, always hanging from her lips.

“That’s just how the world works, Y/N.” He replied instead. “Money can buy anything.”

He was right, he was just proving that by recently buying a mansion, he already had three cars parked in his garage, eight horses plus the ones under training, he paid for a staff at his house, paid the cops, he was also paying the remodeling of the building they’d use for the Shelby Institute and everything that was needed. And last but not least, he was paying her salary and a monthly amount of money for her baby already, the sapphire he recently gifted her and endless other things.

The echo of his words silenced her own.

Y/N decided then to turn her head away from him to look outside on the road they were leaving behind.

But you can’t buy love. Can’t buy happiness either. So… is it really worth it? She wanted to say, but instead the words kept playing in the back of her mind.

“Before I forget…a man came looking for you at the Institution.” Y/N explained shaking her head a bit, her mind felt funny at times and she forgot things.

“Who? When?”

She saw the frown in Tommy’s face. “A few days ago, he seemed strange if you ask me, wearing clothes as a priest, said he’d supervise th-”

“Fucking Hughes, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He demanded frustrated.

“Calm down, I-I forgot.”

“This is important and delicate, Y/N you can’t simply forget those things.” Tommy snapped not aware he was hurting her feelings.

Until a little sob escaped her lips and Tommy felt like a piece of shit.

“No, Y/N I’m sorry shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” He didn’t want to upset her. “Sorry I’m just trying to keep you safe, away from this…”

“I should‘ve told you sooner.” Y/N took a deep breath. She didn’t know what’s gotten into her, that reaction wasn’t like her. “I didn’t like him, but I thought he was related to the operation.”

“If you see him again, don’t tell him anything.” Tommy held the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. “I’m going to place some blinders guarding the Institute.”

Y/N turned to look at Tommy and by the tone in his voice, she felt worried.

Next part

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[lucy90712]

heyyy can you please do a dating Kenan Yildiz headcannon🎀

- Kenan isn't just your boyfriend he's so much more than that he's your best friend too you were friends before you started dating and Kenan never lets that bond go he wants to always be there for you at any time whether that be as your boyfriend or as your best friend 

- He always treats you like a princess he always makes time for you and plans romantic dates at least twice a month he tries his best to do weekly date nights but he likes to take you out to a nice restaurant or something similar a couple times a month to make up for the amount of time he spends away from you 

- You are always his main priority so he always checks in with you to make sure you are happy and are coping with whatever you have going on at that time he always likes to make sure life isn't too much as he knows his reality is quite crazy and full on so he likes to make sure you are keeping up and if you aren't he wants to help you 

- This sentiment is carried through every second of your lives if you need him he will be there no matter the day or time he'll be there he can't always be there physically but he does his best to help you from wherever he is and if he has to he'll get his friends to go to you if you just need someone there

- Kenan is completely obsessed with you from the moment you met he was completely infatuated with you and that only got worse when you actually started dating he is so in love with you that sometimes he doesn't even know how to process his feelings towards you. He is so in love with you and he doesn't care what anyone else says they can make fun of him all they want but he knows how he feels and he knows he's never going to love anyone else more than he loves you 

- He can be quite clingy after a long day all he wants to do is have his arms around you for the rest of the day he is literally attached to you at the hip as you try to do anything he always has his arms wrapped around your waist and his head in the crook of your neck as he just wants to be close to you and you will never complain about having him be so clingy 

- His love language is definitely physical touch his hands are always on you when you are around but he also loves to give you gifts at the end of every week he likes to bring home something for you to show his appreciation for you even though he tells you everyday how much he appreciates you. Usually it will be something small like flowers or your favourite snack but sometimes he'll get you something he knows you've been wanting like a new book or a switch game you can play together

- Kenan never has a bad word to say about you when anyone asks him about you he will only ever say how truly amazing you are not just as his girlfriend but as a person. Even if you’ve had an argument Kenan will never speak badly about you as he knows anything he says won’t be true and he’ll feel awful about it later. He knows that you receive a lot of hate on social media and he never wants to add to that so he wants to show people how amazing he thinks you are in hopes that it makes even a small bit of difference 

- You two don’t often fight as you are good at communicating with each other and you know what annoys the other so you don’t do it but of course there are times that you do argue like any other couple but you always make up within a few hours. Kenan has a rule that you never go to bed angry at each other after one argument and a night apart that really hurt you both and since your relationship has been so much better 

- He is your biggest supporter and you are his he loves seeing you there to support him at his games wearing his shirt but he loves to be there for your achievements more. He would never skip something that is important to you even if he gets in trouble for missing training he doesn’t care. He knows that you will be in his life longer than football so he wants to be there for all the big moments in your life

- Kenan already knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you so he makes sure he treats you that way you aren’t just his girlfriend your his future and he always wants you to know that

[junnieverse]

— TAEHYUN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ! 💭

➙ boyfriend taehyun thoughts

pairings: kang taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff

request: " Hello <3. Kang Taehyun as boyfriend ? Don't overwork yourself pls "

warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread

a/n: hi anon, thanks for this request and cute message, make sure you follow it too. this got much longer than I intended but we all need some tae in our lives, what an angel <3

he would be such a dreamy boyfriend

but then again this just may be me projecting but who wouldn't be completely smitten over taehyun

he's smart, funny, kind, talented, stunning and the best of all, he can cook!

definitely the type of boyfriend to prefer stay in dates because he wants to cook for and/or with you

gatekeeps how he does his magic tricks but he shows you a few of the easy ones he knows

all of his FULLY shirtless pictures he takes go straight to you and then he crops them to post for fans (sobs hysterically)

taehyun remembers every little thing and detail about you that you've told him, he's like a (y/n)-pedia, sometimes he even remembers things that you forgot

massages

just thinking about it has me screaming into a pillow swinging my feet

taehyun will give you a massage whenever and wherever you need one

was slouching the entire day studying? he's going to massage your back and shoulders

had to walk in heels the entire day? not only will he carry sneakers or flat shoes for you but he will also give you a piggy back ride and then massage the tension away in your feet

where do I order my own kang taehyun?

not overly affectionate in the sense of giving especially in public but he loves receiving it from you

hug him, cuddle with him, kiss him all over, doesn't admit it much but he loves it

if he's not holding your hand then his arm is around your waist

he loves head scratches :((

so whenever he sees you relaxing he'll join you and lay his head on your lap and your hand automatically plays with his hair

definition of 'ask and you shall receive'

if you ever so mention something you've been wanting or you thought it looked cute, best believe he is going to get it for you even if you didn't actively ask for it

tyun is very much dominant and a provider sort of man in my opinion, in that aspect of wanting to take care of you and get you whatever you want

all he wants in return is your love, he will do everything else to shower you with his love in every way that he can

he almost never actually gets mad at you

he does that cute little thing where he puffs out his chest and has his hands on his waist and playfully scolds you acting all serious

because you find it so cute, you end up laughing and he breaks character

but in the rare cases where he is upset or you both do fight, he is definitely the type to talk it out because neither of you can go to sleep angry

if you do try to leave angry at him and tell him you're sleeping on the couch, well best believe he will sleep on that couch with you

if you both have similar music tastes then there's definitely multiple shared playlists you have and you always recommend new songs the other should listen to

girlfriend privileges are real

let's you win during play fights and when you catch on he lies claiming you won fair and square so you get bragging rights that you're stronger than him

oh new txt album and songs coming out? you've heard them even before they were released

he will carry your shopping bags, all you have to do is buy whatever you want to your heart's content and he will carry everything and pay for it too

he always goes out his way to show his love to you with big and small gestures but he brushes it off like it's nothing

bf who listens and maybe the s/o who talks alot trope?

genuinely such a great listener and support system

he makes sure to listen to all your vents or just be a shoulder to cry on when you're feeling down

quite sentimental with the gifts he picks out for you so it'll often times be something that holds a certain memory or it just reminds him of you

"Just saw this and picked it up along the way." he would say as if it were nothing special

despite seeming tough around everyone else, that is your squishy marshmallow

tyun gets so soft around you

his favourite way of kissing you would be cupping your face in his hands before he leans in to kiss you

the most obvious one, the best girlfriend privilege of dating kang taehyun, he sings to you all the time

[juststoriesintheend]

I. Faith

Chapter Pairing(s): Master Sol x f!Reader

Chapter Content: unrequited feelings, the force, swearing

Word Count: 3,534

《 [series masterlist] 》 《 II 》 《 III 》 《 IV 》

Osha is lost. You know she is strong, capable, that she can take care of herself without issue, but that knowledge doesn’t stop your heart from worrying. She’s suffered so much since the return of her sister, since her past was dredged from the very depths of her heart and brought to light for all to see, that you fear it will lead her to ruin if she isn’t found. You don’t want that for her. You don’t want to see her light fade from the Force. But her disappearance only further solidifies your concerns, sends you pacing the halls of the Polan.

That is how Sol finds you. You sense his presence in the moments before he turns the corner ahead of you, but you actively avoid looking him in the eyes. You know what he’ll say, you know the patient wisdom you will see in his eyes, and you find yourself hoping to avoid it at all costs.

“You are worried.” He doesn’t need to say it, but you find that the sound of his voice is soothing, even when stating the obvious. It soothes the frantic peaks of your anxiety a hair.

“I know.” It is easy to forget yourself, to forget how your emotions extend beyond yourself. He must have been fighting against the onslaught of your thoughts for the past hour, if not the entire flight here. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

The raising of his hand, palm out, halts your apology, but the gentle curve of his smile softens the blow. “You are not the only one. I fear for her safety, as well.” Sol finally bridges the remaining space between you and settles his hand upon your shoulder. Warmth emanates from the point of contact, spiraling down your arm and across your shoulder blade, the familiar, comforting sort of warmth Sol always carries with him. “We will find her,” he says.

I hope so, you think, but you do not voice it. You know what he would say if you did. Hoping to beat him to it, to project the confidence and certainty you wish you had, you echo the sentiment back to him. “I have faith in the Force.”

Sol smiles again, something tender and sweet that crinkles by his eyes. “That is all we need.”

Savareen is a remarkable place, vibrant and wild in ways unlike anything you’ve ever known before. The ocean is blindingly blue, the sand of its beaches dazzlingly bright, and the flowers that dot the inland sand dunes are the most colorful, most delicate purple blossoms this side of the galaxy. It’s a pity, then, that you’re not here to sightsee.

The wind tears at your robes like it tears at your voice, ripping it from your throat the moment you speak it. “There are too many life forms around, I can’t sense her!”

Sol nods. He stows his own scanner at a loop on his belt and reaches out through the Force with you, his arm extended and eyes shut. You follow suit, but not before you take a moment, a fleeting thing, to admire his profile against the shimmer of the sand. When you finally join him, his signature is glowing brightly in the haze of the Force. Tendrils of his essence spread out before you, drifting past and through every dune and rock and streak of grass, Osha’s name the only question he brings with him. Wherever she is, she is beyond either your reach or his. Which is concerning in its own right. Sol’s mastery of the Force is much greater than yours and if he cannot sense her, then she is far away indeed.

“Should we split up?” You struggle up the slope of a particularly steep dune, tripping all over your feet and the sand and the dangling edge of your robes as you go. “Cover more ground?”

“No.” And suddenly, he’s there, his hand at your arm, pulling you up when your feet fail you. “This planet is uncharted, easy to get lost in. We will find her together.”

The peak of this particular dune offers a rather bleak view of the landscape - sand and gravel for as far as you can see, with small mountain peaks in the distance. Some of the valleys nestled between dunes sport streaks of purple where flowers have cropped up, perhaps feeding on water run off when it rains or a water source beneath the surface. But there is no sign of Osha. Defeat burns hot and heavy in your chest, and you wish it didn’t. Savareen is massive, an entire planet’s worth of desert and ocean, and if Osha does not wish to be found, then there is only so much you can do. It worries you that this mission may be one that remains incomplete - forever.

Sol starts for the bottom of this dune, where the flowers crop up among the stones, but he takes his time. The sands shift so easily under his feet that he can only go so fast. You are hesitant to follow.

It takes him a moment, but he stops and turns when he notices you haven’t been following. His eyes squint against the sun. “Your concern for her burns brightly.”

There was never any point in trying to hide it, but you are still frustrated that he read you so easily. “Yes,” you answer, slowly. You try to recenter yourself in the Force before continuing. “But I’m sure if I weren’t so anxious, I would sense the same from you.”

The awkward, tilted smile he offers you in response is confirmation enough. “She needs us. She needs you, and I cannot do this alone.”

No, you don’t suppose he can, not when he embarked on this mission without first clearing it with the Council. Neither of you should be here and you both know it.

The sand shifts quickly and quietly when you take your first step down. You find yourself thanking the Council, the ancestral Jedi, anyone who cares, for the choice to clothe Jedi in tall boots. At least that way your feet aren’t drowning in sand.

“Sol, if you think I’d ever let you do this alone, you’re an idiot.” You slide past him, letting the sand take you where it pleases, but the stunned expression on his face doesn’t go unnoticed. You can feel it, even without the Force. “Osha needs us both. And I, for- ah!”

Your boot lands on a rock, and the sand beneath it gives way to empty air, and in a single moment you’re lurched forward and sent tumbling down the remainder of the dune. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Sol shout your name, but it’s lost to the wind and the rushing of your blood in your ears. This dune is big, but not so big that you have all the free time in the world before you smash your head upon the rocks at its base. You need to act now.

The Force is vast. Even after a lifetime of learning to fold yourself within its weight, it still manages to steal your breath each time you reach for it. This time is no exception. You try to imagine yourself as something very small drifting through something great and soft, something gentle and slow - a drop of water in a tiny brook, a petal skipping over a field of grass - hoping to slow your descent. For a long moment, you’re not sure that it works. You are still falling, the sand still surrounds you, but…

Something in the Force moves. It is a mighty thing that blasts its way past you, though you still can’t tell which way is up or down. Everything is fast and hard, and you’ve decided to come to terms with the fact that you’re probably going to have a very nasty gash somewhere on your body when you finally finish tumbling, until suddenly everything is solid. Your mind still spins, but your body has stopped.

You take a breath. In. Out. You open one eye. There’s a wall of sand before you. You open the other. It’s littered with the broken branches and battered flowers from the blooming bushes you had noticed earlier, but no rocks. No great stones for you to dash your head upon, nothing that might endanger you. Just the violet petals of the Savareen flowers and the faint yellow trail of pollen they leave behind. Your mind reels as you drag yourself into some vaguely comfortable sitting position. Did you do this? You suppose you could have, but summoning a wall of sand to protect yourself hadn’t been your intention.

It’s then that you hear your name on the wind. Sol. Though you’re still dizzy and half dazed, you swing your head in the direction of his voice just in time to see him staggering the last few paces separating you, the sleeves of his robes swinging this way and that as his body dips with each step. He drops to his knees before you, and you find yourself breathless at the gesture.

“Are you alright?” he asks. Already, he’s brought his hands to cup your face, seeking out any injuries with a sort of crackling and frantic energy you have never seen from him. “Are you hurt?”

You nod. “‘m fine. I-I think.”

He wears gloves. You’ve always known this, but it’s a fact that hits you particularly hard now that he is touching you. In the back of your mind, you’ve absently mused on the feel, the scent, the everything about them, though it had never been intentional. Not fully. They are soft, you find. Worn with age and the hilt of a well-loved saber, sanded down until they grow thin at the seams and his warmth seeps through to whatever he happens to be touching.

Sol frowns as he brushes his thumb over the ridge of your cheekbone. Electricity shoots down your spine. “You have…”

“What?”

A quick glance down, though, shows streaks of yellow over the white and brown parts of your robes: the pollen. The flowers must have dropped their powder when you fell, or perhaps when Sol summoned enough sand to stop a runaway fathier. Curious, you swipe your finger over your shoulder and sniff it.

“It smells like petrichor,” you muse, and that, for some reason, is enough to make him laugh. You wish he would laugh more often.

“A remarkable observation.” He stands and offers you his hands, watching patiently while you brush the remaining pollen from your clothes. “Come on.”

The wall of sand catches your eye as you move. Before your question can manifest itself, you find yourself drawn to Sol, your gaze, your body, your very essence leaning and leaning until you finally fall into him. It’s possible you’re still a bit dizzy. “Was that you?”

He braces himself against the influx of your weight as his arms come around you, and it strikes you just how soft he manages to be while also staying strong. He smiles that crinkle-eyed smile you have always loved and nods. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, suddenly enraptured by the gentle slope of his jaw and the rich, earthy hue of his eyes as they flicker down, down to the cleave in your robes and the sudden thrumming of your pulse as it leaps from your throat. It strikes you hard, then, that you feel more exposed under the blazing of the sun and your layers of clothing than you ever have before. Startled by this discomforting realization, you scramble out of his arms on wobbly legs. “We should, uh, get going. I don’t want to lose her.”

It’s hot. Far too hot. Savareen is a desert, of course, so the heat is to be expected, but it feels strange this time. You feel strange. Already, you’ve shrugged off the outer layer of your clothes, but your body seems only to grow warmer with each passing moment. It’s awful.

“D’you think we’re any closer?”

Sol’s head tilts in your direction, his expression unreadable. “I have a read on her ship,” he says with a nod to his scanner, “but I still cannot sense her.”

Oh, thank the Force. The sooner you find her, the sooner you can get off this dust bowl and strip out of your clothes to enjoy something cool and refreshing. A real shower, or an endless glass of some chilled, fruity drink that freezes your brain. Even an ice bath sounds appealing. Or a visit to Hoth. Anything, so long as it quenches the fire that’s blazing beneath your skin.

The dunes have evened out into something more walkable - a blessing in its own right. Pebbles and larger rocks pepper the land while the mountains loom ever closer. The sun drifts down toward the softly sloped peaks, and the flowers sway in the wind, and everything feels itchy and tight and utterly unbearable. You cast your attention to Sol and feel completely, irrationally angry watching him exist without being as miserable as you are.

“Aren’t you melting, Sol?” Hands pry at the neck of your robes to loosen them even more, but they come back damp with your own sweat.

He halts, rather than answer. Soft brown eyes - warm, always warm, like a fire in the dead of winter, like the earth heated by the light of the sun - study you without words, without judgment, without a shred of the misery you feel now, and you hate it. You hate it so much that it makes your stomach churn and your thighs ache.

Your mouth parts to fill the empty space he leaves behind. “I swear, this planet’s a fucking sauna. How can you stand it?” You don’t care that you’ve never truly sworn in front of him before. It’s too difficult to keep up appearances right now. You are not the perfect Jedi you’ve always wished him to think of you as, you are hot and you are tired and you want this to be over as soon as possible. “What the hell is she doing out here, anyway? Running? From what? She couldn’t have picked a nicer spot? We’d have a harder time finding her on Coruscant and at least it wouldn’t be so fucking miserable-”

“Are you well?”

It’s his tone that gives you pause. Not once in the past sixteen years has he ever spoken to you like this, like… like there’s something wrong with you, like your very presence offends him. It’s unlike him. And it hurts.

Scowling, you start to lumber past him. “Are you?”

His eyes close and hardly a moment later, you feel a force pressing lightly against your sternum. A Force. His Force.

“Are you studying me?”

Sol’s brow furrows in your direction. “Your mind is clouded, confused,” he says, and he does it with such calm. How is he so damn calm? “What’s wrong?”

He has the audacity to ask you this?

“Look around you! We’re in the middle of a kriffing desert, Sol, and you wanna know ‘what’s wrong’?”

The heat of the sun seems to beam itself directly into your brain. (Something logical in the far reaches of your mind curls in on itself.) You shouldn’t even be here. None of you should. (You’re so angry, screaming inside your skin as this planet boils you alive, and you don’t understand why.) This whole mission is a waste - a waste of time, a waste of your resources, of the bond between you and Osha, between her and Sol. What the hell was she thinking? (Something isn’t right. This isn’t right.)

Sol’s compassion eats through your heart when he looks you in the eye. “I’m worried about her, too, but-”

“She’s an idiot,” you snap, and your vehemence startles even you, though you fight not to show it. (Why are you so angry?)

The irritation that lances through his sigh, through his voice, is a victory, small though it is. “I understand your anger, but it will not help us find Osha.”

He’s right, of course. Some Jedi instinct deep within you knows this to be true.

“Anger is chaos,” he continues. “It burns bright, but it only serves to confuse and to tear apart that which is unified.”

There is no chaos, there is harmony. You learned those words from your own Master, and you have heard them from Sol’s own mouth countless times by virtue of being Osha’s friend all these years.

A memory sparks.

“Center yourself.”

A younger Osha, about twelve and practically vibrating with emotion, sits cross-legged under her Master’s watchful eye. She fidgets, restless and uncertain; you can feel it from the alcove where you linger.

“I can’t,” she says, and you can hear all the things she wishes she could say tied tightly together with a thread of restraint.

Sol almost smiles. “You can.”

He moves to sit across from her, his cloak spread out around him like the tresses of a waterfall. He does it with such grace, so effortlessly. It’s why you can’t help lingering where you don’t belong, watching something that isn’t yours to see.

“You do not need to fear your emotions, Osha. They are not an enemy for you to fight, but an ally that gives you strength.”

Being five years your junior, Osha’s skills with the Force are still young and struggling to flourish in the overgrowth of her past that still haunts her. You remember being her age, how the world around you felt too big to make sense of, how you tried your very best to be a good padawan but always felt lacking. Meditation does not come easy to you either, not even now. Yet you find yourself intrigued by Sol’s approach to the issue. He comes to Osha’s level and meets her where she struggles, he brings warmth and understanding, a patience that runs so deep you wonder if it’s a piece of the Force that threads directly through him.

“It is through our emotions that we can find peace, but only by using the Force as our guide.” Osha nods quietly, her eyelids twitching as she attempts to reconnect herself, but Sol smiles. He always smiles. “Breathe deep. Find me in the Force, Padawan.”

On Savareen, you feel the echo of that memory breeze through you, body and soul. With it comes a peace that is quiet and unassuming, shrouded in Sol’s very essence. He’s reaching out to you, you realize, offering you his hand. Offering you peace.

Find me in the Force.

You are a Knight now. You are not the young child you once were, nor the teen who snuck through the Temple halls in search of mischief. You are better than this, you are above such petty and aggressive means of expression, and Sol knows it as well as you do.

Find me.

There is something that looms large over your heart and mind, something that clouds your judgment in a way unknown to you. Through the Force, you sense it curled up like a predator lying in wait as it courses through your veins. Through Sol’s peace and the calming guidance of his presence, you find that this thing brings fire and passion, that it simmers low in your belly and boils your brain while lashing out at anything that does not bring it satisfaction.

“There’s something in my head,” you say.

“I see it.”

“It hurts.” You hadn’t fully realized it until this moment. “Sol…”

His hand curls around your bicep. It is meant to be a comfort, but all it does is make your body scream. You cry out, half agonized and half electrified, and very nearly fall over, as if his very presence were the source of it all.

The planet seems to swim around you, the sand bleeding into the sky into the mountains into everything and nothing. Desperate for relief, you claw at the hem of your robes until they start falling apart at your chest. Your cloak is long forgotten, the tabard and overtunic ripped off your body and thrown aside, everything is discarded until you find yourself in only your undertunic and trousers. The boots are on very thin ice.

Everything hurts and everything is hot. Wherever your clothing touches you, it burns like a brand, but even in the midst of your desperation you can’t bring yourself to completely strip, not in front of Sol. Not like this. Some final shred of dignity still clings to your consciousness and you won’t allow yourself to bare your body to him. Not when… After all these years, he’s never known. It would kill you if he discovered it now.

You fall to your hands and knees in the sand, panting. “Sol, what’s wrong with me? What’s happening?”

Sol will know. He always knows.

But as you slip onto your stomach, your mind still screaming and your body on the verge of implosion, you catch a glimpse of the Master you’ve loved for the past eight years and all you see on his face is fear. Confusion. Uncertainty.

And then you see nothing at all.

taglist: @wolffegirlsunite

[radioisntdead]

After extermination day

Hazbin hotel x reader with some Alastor x reader

Warnings: :]

Song used

Wake up, say good morning to

The hellish daylight shined through the curtains and onto your sleeping face, effectively waking you up, you stretched out your limbs.

That sleepy person lying next to you

You turned onto your side to see if he was there, sleeping off his injury like he was supposed too.

If there's no one there, then there's no one there

He wasn't.

You let out a sigh as you crawled out of bed and sluggishly made your way to get ready for the day.

But at least the war is over

You could faintly hear Niffty chasing after something in the halls from just outside your room, despite the hotel being rebuilt better then ever it still had the occasional roach come in.

It's us, yes, we're back again

You eventually made your way down the halls, you never thought that you'd miss the way the original hotel looked, it was a little worse off but you grew used to it, maybe you were growing a little too sentimental.

Here to see you through, 'til the days end

"Morning Charlie, Vaggie!" You greeted the couple with a grin as they returned the greeting before passing by you, probably to drag the king of hell out of his room that despite only living in the hotel for barely half a week already had a concerning amount of rubber ducks overflowing in his room.

And if the night comes, and the night will come

"Morning Angel," You passed by Angel who instead of waking up like the others was returning from a late night at the studio, things had changed yes, but not everything had.

"Night' toots." He yawned before throwing open his rooms door, you could hear Fat nuggets squeal at his owner's return.

You continued on down the halls, eventually passing by the tribute painting of Sir Pentious.

"Morning Pentious." You brushed a hand over the frame that held the painting, you all knew that there was a large chance that you wouldn't live to see another day, but you didn't expect Pentious to go out the way that he did.

You missed your dear friend, you could only hope that he was at peace wherever he ended up.

Well, at least the war is over

Husk had his head in his arms, sleeping at the bar, cradling a bottle in his paw.

Cherri bomb was having a mind numbing conversation with the last remaining egg boy, you decided not to interrupt and continued your way to find a certain deer.

Lift your head and look out the window

Rosie stared outside the window of her emporium, watching as cannibal children played in the streets and as the older people chatted like any other day.

Cannibal town had lost many that day, funerals were prepared, people were injured, some injuries would never be fully healed, many mourned for their losses of friends, family, lovers.

Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go

But yet it still thrived, just like any other extermination day, not everyone survived it.

Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring

Rosie let out a sigh as she saw Susan strolling up to the emporium, wearing an exorcists wings as a new fashionable shawl.

All the living are dead, and the dead are all living

No one would outright say it but they were surprised that Susan of all cannibals survived and came out without even a scratch.

The war is over and we are beginning

Fear the old lady.

Gridlock on the parkway now

The Vee's carried on business as usual, Vox was especially disappointed that Alastor had, in fact not died, and was instead thriving! He wanted to do unmentionable things to the radio demon.

All totally murder related of course!!

The television man is here to show you how

Katie killjoy and the other guy, what was his name? Tom French? Trench? did an segment on whatever the newest chaos was happening in hell as per usual.

The channel fades to snow, it's off to work you go

Valentino was unfortunately still alive, hopefully he would get taken out soon enough, maybe by Susan, she could use a another shawl.

But at least the war is over

"Are you fuckin' kidding ME?!" The first man screamed as he grabbed and pulled on the horns that were attached to his head, ignored by the majority of sinners that passed by.

Turns out holding mass murders yearly no matter the reason, was still a sin, and the first man, once a winner, was now a sinner.

A filthy, disgusting, no good sinner.

Hell hadn't changed much, or at all since extermination day, there was some anxiousness in the air of what will the next extermination day hold? Will it ever come? Heaven on the other hand.

She's gone, she left before you woke

Lute was still angry and still missing an arm, she wasn't getting that back anytime soon, especially since her prosthetic wasn't done yet.

As you ate last night, neither of you spoke

She would sometimes feel her missing arm although it wasn't there anymore, the pain would be unbearable, but it didn't compare to the pain she felt from the lost of Adam.

Dishes, TV, bed, the darkness filled with dread

She kept his Halo on her nightstand, it was... Comforting to have.

But at least the war is over

Sera was shocked that Charlie's redemption idea was successful, sinners could be redeemed.

Lift your head and look out the window

Many thoughts went through her head, was it a good idea? It was possible yes, Sir Pentious was pure proof of that, but was it a good idea? Surely there were sinners that no matter what they did would never truly be redeemed, like Valentino for example.

But then there were sinners that could be redeemed, like Sir Pentious.

It would take time for her to fully accept that things were changing, that sinners could be redeemed, that allowing Adam to hold the exterminations was a horrible idea, how many sinners that were murdered could've been redeemed? And how many of them couldn't?

But once she did accept it? How would she go about it? She did certainly owed not only Charlie a proper apology but Emily as well, withholding information from someone could be worse then a lie sometimes.

Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go

Emily was ecstatic that Charlie's redemption hotel was a success! Sinners could be redeemed!

She had so much fun showing Sir Pentious around and getting him situated in his new place of residence, one day Charlie could visit again, and see that her dreams were a success!

Emily couldn't wait for that day to come.

Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring

Sir Pentious didn't know what exactly he was expecting to happen when he selflessly sacrificed himself for the hotel, double hell? Permanent darkness maybe, but not heaven, he didn't expect to have a whole color palette change.

All the living are dead, and the dead are all living

He missed his friends Family at the hotel, he missed the times they shared, but at least he had some of his egg Bois with him, oddly enough they were now hard boiled but they were there.

It would take him awhile to get used to everything but he was slowly getting comfortable, he even made a friend other then Emily, a spider winner by the name of Molly.

The war is over and we are beginning

She oddly enough reminded him of Angel dust, maybe it was the spider appearances?

We won, or we think we did

"Morning Niff!" "Good mornin- oh! Outta the way!" You passed by Niffty who was still chasing that roach, you chuckled before continuing your way.

When you went away, you were just a kid

Climbing up the stairway to a certain deers new and improved radio station.

And if you lost it all, and you lost it

You opened the door, not bothering to knock, did no one teach you manners?

Alastor went on hosting his radio show, talking about whatever, you didn't really pay attention, only watching him as you leaned on the door way waiting for him to notice you.

Well, we'll still be there when your war is over

It didn't take long for him to do so, with a raised eyebrow he motioned for you to come in as he smoothly switched from talking to putting on music.

Lift your head and look out the window

"My dear! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He asked spinning around in his chair.

"You weren't in bed, Al, you're supposed to be resting," you moved towards him softly closing the door behind you.

Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go

"Nonsense my dear, I am perfectly fine, fit as a fiddle if I do say so myself!" You frowned at the radio deers words, you knew damn well he was not fit as a fiddle, he nearly reopened his stitches just the other night.

Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring

He got up from his chair and held out his hand to you for you to take.

"Care to join me for a quick dance, Mon étoile?" He asked, a grin reluctantly spread out across your face as you took his hand.

All the living are dead, and the dead are all living

You missed the time before extermination day, you missed Sir Pentious, you missed the old hotel, if you could you would've cherished it more, but it was too late for cheesey sentiments like that, all you could do now was cherish the people in the new hotel now.

And focus on the lovely dance you were having with your still injured partner.

The war is over and we are beginning

Things were changing quickly, for better or for worse you were sticking with this hotel, with Charlie, with everyone in this place through it all.

Here it comes, here comes the first day

You didn't know it yet but after this dance Charlie would come bolting up the stairs excitedly letting the two of you know that a sinner wanted to join the hotel, and that the wall had been taken down and if Alastor could fix it because the duck man was distracted making ducks.

Here it comes, here comes the first day

Afterwards you and Alastor would go greet the sinner, a song would take place and beef would be beefed between the deer man and the duck man.

It starts up in our bedroom after the war

You wouldn't change any of it for the world.

It starts up in our bedroom after the war, after the war

Good evening folks! Guess who finally posted angst ON ANGST WEDNESDAY FOR ONCE HAHAHAHAAH SUCK IT PROCRASTINATION,

This is more bittersweet than angst though but we don't talk about that, I wrote this in like two hours, like I hyper focused on this, I'm gonna schedule the fic IT BETTER POST THIS TIME OR IM BITING TUMBLR, As always thank you for tuning in and Goodnight folks!

pssssst! You should join our discord! You get to witness my 5 AM writing screams with snippets

[licorice-tea]

When The Tide Comes Out

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x reader

Content: angst, fluff, h/c kind of… also kissing😽

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: first time writing about Ace!! also i LOVE orville peck and this scenario just fit perfectly with this part of his song, “Blush”! Ace is so like… cowboy adjacent, too, so i think this kind of music is fitting for him! please enjoy and lmk what you think <3

There’s something ‘bout men that I don’t understand

You never would know how Ace did it. The constant solo traveling, having to find a new place to sleep every night, and not knowing where home is. Because, well, his home is a ship. He’s brave and responsible enough to take care of himself- you know that much- but still…

It’s a lifestyle that makes no sense to you.

On the other hand, you’ve never been one to stray far from home. You prefer to stay on your island, only going on the occasional vacation with family or friends. Still, you’ll always know where to come back to when the fun is over. And even then; you’re surrounded by people who carry the same feeling of comfort as your bed would.

Ace doesn’t have that. And he doesn’t seem to need it, either. He races around the globe in search of revenge. He calls it justice, but when you see the fire in his eyes- normally so full of warmth and comfort- you’re confused. It’s a scary look, one that you’d hate to ever see directed towards yourself. But, Ace could never direct such rage toward you. He barely gets to see you, why waste any time on bitter feelings?

Yet, he always leaves you. You’ve opened your door to him countless times; told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he wants. And every time, he chooses to leave after a night or two.

They’re always leaving wherever they’ve been

For what must be the hundredth time, you walk Ace to your front gate. You live in a nice rural area near the beach, and your front yard has its own garden and fish pond. It’s picturesque, and a home that most people (couples, specifically) could only dream of owning someday.

He hugs you tightly, burying his face in your hair with no shame.

“I miss you already.”

“Then stay.”

Ace shakes his head, surely messing up your styling, before he pulls back to face you. “You know I can’t.”

A thought tries to escape your mind, but your lips press together after a second thought. His hands brush a strand from your cheek- and you let him for a moment- but then you catch his wrist. “But you can, Ace.”

Brush it off with a shrug, I don’t know much about love

He sighs and a wince passes over his features; as if he’s in pain. “Let’s not do this right now, baby, please.”

“Don’t you baby me, Ace. You leave me alone for months on end and- and what? I’m supposed to just be content with seeing you for a few weeks out of the whole year?”

“… I’m sorry, I really am.”

This time, you’re the one to sigh and shake your head with a pained expression. “No it’s… I know what you’re doing is important to you.”

“But you’re important to me, too. You’re where home is.” The sentiment squeezes your heart- it feels like it’s about to burst.

“I know.” You try and offer a smile, so at least your last few moments together for god knows how log will be happy ones.

He laughs dryly at your obviously forced smile. Ace feels like he’s failing you, in all honesty, with no solution or viable compromise that will suit both his career as a pirate and the love he wishes to continue growing with you. “I’m not doing too great at this, am I?”

“You’re doing your best.” You pull him back in for another hug, and whisper against him. “I love you, Ace.”

He smiles into your neck. “I love you too.”

Still I give it a try now and then

You’re the first one to let go, pushing him away gently. “Go, before I try and stop you.”

His smile is strained, yet still bright and handsome. “I’ll come back sooner next time, okay?”

“You better. Or else I might have to find a replacement.”

Ace laughs and you giggle along with him. “Nah, I’m not too worried about that.” He presses a sweet kiss into your lips. “I mean it though. I want to make this work, and I want to be here with you.”

This time around, your smile is more genuine. “Then I can’t wait.”

Your hands turn his hips away from you as you playfully push him out the gate and toward the beach. “Now go so you can hurry back!”

The two of you laugh as you run down to where his raft is stationed on the shoreline.

Saddle up and ride on down

“You have my vivre card?”

“Mhm,” you pull it out of your pocket, “and you have mine?”

Ace lifts his hat to show you the card stitched onto it. “Always.”

He pushes the small boat out of the sand, and it floats in place. It’s powered by his own devil fruit, so there’s no concern of it drifting away without its owner. Who, as he turns back to you, gives you a look of longing. After a moment his face moves closer to yours, so you’re both smiling softly and nearly connected at the lips. Ace grips your waist and kisses you. It’s more passionate this time, and full of all the love and desire he has for you that he can fit into one action.

You huff in amusement. “Be safe.”

Ace nods. “I will.”

Maybe when the tide comes out

With reluctance, Ace releases his hold on your sides and wades in the shallow water. First he throws his bag on it, then lifts himself onto the deck of the Striker.

You wave goodbye, and he waves back. Theres a halo of sunlight cast from behind his dark curls and broad shoulders. Then, with a few sparks so as to get further from you and not accidentally burn you, the Striker moves further into the rising water. The realization that it’s high tide washes over you much like the waves themselves. You’re soaked up to your knees by now, but it’s no matter. You would swim across the whole ocean if only to get closer to him.

Ace and the Striker grow smaller and smaller in the distance, but you can still see his arm waving high in the air. You wave back with equal zeal, hopping up and down. His shouts of “I love you!” and “I’ll see you soon!” grow quieter, so you’re not even entirely sure when he stops.

Eventually, once he’s out of your field of vision, you turn back. You walk the same path up the beach- 2 pairs of footsteps still visible in the sand from your trip down to the shore just moments before.

Without your lover’s laughter in your ears, the creak of the gate is nearly deafening.

[slashertrash]

Hello! I dunno if your requests are open but can I get Bubba, Jason, Freddy and Micheal with a soft, short, female S/O who carrys around a small teddy bear everywhere? Thank you!

Sure thing, hun! Hope you like it! 💖

Bubba

Bubba finds you to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen! So small, so kind and so adorable! Just like a real life doll!

He squeals in delight whenever he sees you carry around your teddy bear. He even tries to make it a friend out of cloth and other materials laying around the house or farm.

He keeps an eye out for your teddy bear for you and gets worried that it might get dirtied up, he ends up cleaning it if that ever happens.

Bubba makes sure his brothers don't mess with you or your fuzzy friend. <3

Jason

Jason thinks it's real sweet that you still hold on to your old stuffed toys. He might have some laying about the cabin as well.

Pamela couldn't let go of any of his old belongings. So there might be some of Jason's kids toys still intact.

He might let you touch or play with them...Only if you're really careful, they hold a lot of sentimental value to him.

Overall thinks you're a real sweetheart, he loves that you're still in touch with your inner child and find joy in the little things in life.

Also finds your height difference cute, he loves picking you up bridal style around the cabin.

Freddy

Freddy here likes to tease and make fun of how "childish" you are for carrying around a teddy bear.

Would probably take it from your hands and try to get you to get it back by chasing him around. Now who's being childish....and kind've a jerk

You don't know why he's so bent on annoying you with your teddy bear. You're starting to suspect that he's jealous of it.

He's not! How idiotic would that be! ...ok maybe just a lil'

Freddy also likes to tease you about your height.

He gives you nicknames like: Shorty, Shortstack, Doll, Mouse, Tiny, Cupcake, and many many more small related things. Each day he comes up with a new one.

Michael

Michael likes your small stature, he loves throwing you over his shoulder with such ease. He enjoys having such power over you.

He finds your soft and caring personality to be...comforting? In his own mysterious way.

Michael has seen you carry around your teddy bear wherever you go. He doesn't think he's ever seen you without it. He's a bit curious as to why.

Doesn't understand the infatuation you might have with it. It's just a dumb stuffed toy, he thinks to himself. He might get the urge to stab into it and rip it into pieces, but ops to hide it from your view.

He's definitely jealous of it. Why not give him all the attention you're giving to your teddy bear?

After searching the entire house, and panicking trying to find your teddy bear, he ends up just leaving it at your bed without you noticing.

That night he goes out and doesn't come back 'till later in the afternoon of the next day.

When you finally notice him in your house, he's holding a bloodied up stuffed rabbit, and hands it to you. Maybe it's his way of saying sorry, for making you worry so much over your teddy.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

A Sudden Proposal

"How about it, little lady?"

Rio looked down from where she was sitting on a tree branch, barefoot, swinging her legs in time with the breeze, waiting for Agatha to finish acquiring supplies so they could move on to wherever they were headed this time. Destinations were Agatha's business. Rio was here for the journey.

Now she looked down to see a man standing there, broad, wearing a hat of some kind, clothed, most likely to die of a heart attack, but not any time soon, making him blatantly uninteresting. "Yes?" she asked.

"Wondering if you wanted to come down from there and have a drink with me," the stranger asked.

She slid backwards, dangled upside down. She preferred masculine traveling clothes for the road, cinched green shirts and trousers, easier than Agatha's dresses, and less liable to blind her when she was upside down, which happened more often to her than it seemed to happen to most people. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Your husband?"

She grinned. "If only." She'd get Agatha that way eventually, though. She could picture the expression on her lover's face at the suggestion that they do something as romantic as speaking sentimental vows to each other and it was delicious.

Ugh, Agatha would say. Sappy, Agatha would say.

But she'd do it. She always did the things Rio wanted most, though it took some prodding.

"Well, then I don't see how he has any claim on you," the hatted man below her continued

"Who doesn't have any claim on you?" Agatha, hiking up toward her with supplies, sweating, complaining, perfect. "You could have come and help me carry things."

"You complain I do things in town. Talk to people. Exist too loudly," Rio said, sitting up and jumping down in a single motion. "Hi, Ags. This gentleman was inquiring after my husband."

"Haven't seen him," Agatha said, glancing at the man and coming to the same conclusion as Rio. Since the man was neither a witch she could kill for power or an ancient tome, he had nothing to interest Agatha Harkness. "I have never complained that you 'exist too loudly'."

Rio giggled, high and sharp. "You might someday, though. It's the general category of thing you would complain about."

"You can't just make up complaints. I complain about enough real things, just use one of those," Agatha complained.

The stranger cleared his throat. "If neither of you are married, I have a brother..."

Agatha's eyes slid over to him, then skidded off with disinterest. "I don't really see what your sibling has to do with our marital status."

"I think he wants you to marry his brother, Ags."

"...Yes, Rio, I did actually understand that," Agatha said and Rio had to admit that Agatha looking at her like that, all narrowed eyes and compressed lips, was very pretty. "But thank you so much for clarifying."

And now it was time for the stranger to go away, so Rio could turn her attention to kissing her pretty, easily annoyed lover. She gave Agatha a slightly plaintive look, signalling with her eyes, 'make him go away, Ags'. She could do it herself, of course, she always had a knife somewhere, but it was more fun to watch Agatha.

Agatha gave her a showy, wicked smile, and turned her attention to the stranger. "Do you and your brother own land?" she asked the man.

"We do, as a matter of fact," the man said, sounding grateful to be included in the conversation. "Got a decent parcel out to the left of town, been looking for some wives to go with it."

"Hmm," Agatha pursed her lips, considering and Rio spun her fingers to make the wind pick up faster around both of them, a subtle spur to keep Agatha from dragging this out longer than it needed to be. She couldn't tell if the other woman noticed. "Any horses?"

"Two."

"Sheep?"

"No, we were thinking of getting some."

"What do you grow on your land?"

"Sorghum, mostly. Some corn." The stranger sounded flummoxed, but he kept gamely answering Agatha's questions.

"Agatha," Rio drawled. "We've got somewhere important to be, don't we?" She assumed they did. Agatha always had somewhere important to be.

Agatha glanced at her with wide eyes. "Come on, Rio, we're being considered for marriage. Offers like these don't come often for women like us."

Rio slumped, now it was her turn to be annoyed. Agatha was having too much fun, playing with her food or possibly playing with Rio.

"Women like you?" the man asked.

"Oh, you know. Harridans. Spinsters," Agatha said. "I assume we would be expected to bear you children?"

"Uh. Well. It's preferable?"

Agatha nodded thoughtfully. "Two apiece, say?"

"Agatha..." Rio growled and Agatha finally cracked, burst into snorting laughter. She pivoted and grabbed Rio, pulled her into a rough kiss that Rio returned with even more force, teeth scraping Agatha's lip, making Agatha's hand tighten on the back of her neck with what Rio knew to be excitement.

When they broke, the man was staring at both of them. "Uh."

Agatha shrugged, and locked her fingers through Rio's. "I'm afraid we're both already taken. Good luck with your hunt. Maybe try better avenues than propositioning random women in trees."

They both walked away together and got a fair ways down the road before Agatha burst into laughter again. "That was barely even mean," Rio said.

"Oh shucks, sorry, did you want me to be meaner?" Agatha said, still snickering. "We can go back and find him and I can make another attempt, I promise I can be very mean."

"Nooo," Rio said, sliding her arms around Agatha's waist, tugging her closer. "I wanted you to kiss me. And now I want you to kiss me again."

"You think I should have asked how many acres? I mean, with sheep and sorghum, we could have turned a tidy profit..."

Rio stared at Agatha. "Sometimes I barely understand you," she muttered.

"Good," Agatha said, her smile so bright it eclipsed the sun. "I need some mystery. You might get bored of me otherwise."

Rio opened her mouth to point out that she would never, ever get bored of Agatha, but then Agatha was kissing her and that took precedence, Agatha's mouth against hers, warm and sweet in the sun on a road that stretched ever onward, to the next town and the next adventure, a journey that would never end.

Want some more witch adventures? Try the wedding for Rio almost getting Agatha to the altar or the many husbands of Agatha Harkness for Agatha playing with her food once more.

Or check out the Ritual of the Rose on AO3, the fic I should be writing instead of endless drabbles.

[drabblesandimagines]

Request for Joshua getting married?

I got a bit carried away from a drabble with this one. Anon, please lemme know what you think! x

-- Joshua Rosfield x female reader, fluff, tiny smidge of suggestive spice at the very end

It was foolish to think the two of you would’ve ever got away with a quiet affair, not when the Bearer of the Burning Quill was around. When Joshua had announced his intention to marry you, Cyril had appeared laden with parchment denoting the wedding rites of the Phoenix over years upon years.

The Undying had been so loyal to Phoenix that he had found them quite impossible to refuse, especially when some had expressed their joy at the prospect of being allowed to see such a ceremony, unsure if it would be held in their lifetime.

“A small, short ceremony at Phoenix Gate,” Joshua had proposed as a compromise. “Then whatever else you want, wherever you want, my love.”

How could you refuse?

The gown is prepared for you, a vibrant red, off the shoulder sleeves, gold threads embroidered throughout in the pattern of feathers by hands far more skilled than your own – the same hands that now help you dress, murmuring words of how much it is an honour to prepare the Phoenix’s bride. The finishing touch is to be a circlet of pure gold, studded with rubies, fetched from the vault below the sanctum.

“Every partner of the Phoenix has worn this as long as the records have been kept,” Cyril had said in his usual soft manner as he placed it upon your crown, before stepping back with a bow. “Long may the tradition continue after today.”

You barely have time to look at yourself in the mirror when you are ushered out of your chambers and towards a waiting carriage.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Clive offers you his hand as you emerge from the sanctum at dusk. As the First Shield, sworn to protect the Phoenix, it is only right he is charged with escorting the bride to him. “I will go as far to say that you will render my brother speechless and I know we would both admit that will be quite the feat.”

You smile, thankful to have him there. “Thank you.”

You accept his hand, squeezing it a little too firmly as you step up into the carriage, wary of the adoring eyes of the acolytes on you, those not granted an invitation but wishing to catch a glimpse all the same. You let go of Clive’s hand as you situate yourself on the bench within and he soon joins you, sitting opposite. A lantern burns brightly from the ceiling and the windows are shuttered – not that it matters as the sun continues to set.

“Are you going to be okay?” You ask as the carriage sets off on its journey. He looks perplexed at your question, so you continue. “With the ceremony being at Phoenix Gate, I mean.”

“Indeed - I made my peace there a few years ago. It will be nice to make a happier memory there of gaining a sister, though.”

“Mm.” You smile at his sentiments. “I am afraid I am a little nervous.”

“Allow me to assure you that Joshua will be even more so.”

--

The ruined stone walls of Phoenix Gate have been ladened with candles – the flickering flames greeting you as Clive once again offers his hand to escort you down from the carriage. The ceremony itself is going to take place within the chamber – right in front of the door Joshua was due to enter all those years ago.

A single Undying acolyte waits by the entrance, head bowed low, heavy brown cloak in hand. They hand it to Clive, wordlessly, before retreating into the chamber, not once raising their eyes from the ground.

The First Shield shakes out the cloak from its folds and pauses. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He drapes it over your shoulders, fastening the clasp underneath your chin before gently pulling the hood down low over your face. He guides your arm through his and steps forward, kicking at the door once with his foot before they are opened before you.

It is hard to see beneath the hood, but from the shadows on the floor you know the chamber is littered with even more candles. Dozens of Undying are lined up along the sides and the whole room is silent, besides the occasional spit of flame and scuff of yours and Clive’s footsteps on the stone.

He leads you up to the makeshift altar and you so desperately wish to lift your head, to see Joshua’s eyes but the scorn of Master Cyril prevents you from doing so. If you can just be patient for a few more moments, you can stare into his eyes as long as you like.

“We are here this night,” Cyril’s voice booms around the chambers – much louder than you’ve ever heard him speak before, “to witness the union of the Phoenix and his beloved. First Shield, do you confirm the one you have escorted here is the one the Phoenix wishes to wed?”

“I do confirm.” Clive’s hand then takes your own and he holds it out in offering. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you feel Joshua lace his fingers with your own – though it had only been a day, you had missed his touch something awful in the lead-up.

“Phoenix, do you confirm this is the one you wish to bind your heart with?”

Joshua’s other hand grips your chin, tilting your head up so you can finally meet his eyes. Tears brim his own as he smiles – not being able to see you has been akin to torture. He is dressed more or less the same as usual, though his somewhat frayed red cowl has been replaced with a new one, embroidered with the same gold thread pattern as on your gown.

His hand moves from your chin to grip the hood of the cloak – a flame dancing between his fingers as he does so. In a blink of an eye, the cloak disintegrates in a flash of fire, revealing your gown to an audible gasp from the acolytes watching. Joshua’s face slackens, rendered speechless as Clive foretold, wide-eyes… Cyril gently nudges his foot with his own, a reminder he does need to answer.

“I… I do… I do confirm.” He’s almost breathless, before the boyish grin creeps back into place. “Absolutely, completely confirm.”

“And, my lady,” Cyril turns to you, your fingers still entwined with Joshua’s, “do you confirm that the Phoenix is the one you wish to bind your heart with?”

“I do confirm.”

“Then may the binding of your hearts here on this night shield the firebird’s flame forevermore.”

Joshua wastes not a second before he has wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you forward into a deep kiss – as if he needs you to breathe. For once, you are unaware of the eyes of the Undying upon you, feeling that you and your husband are the only ones in the chamber before the silence is broken by applause over your shoulder – Clive trying to bring a little joviality into the crowd. Slowly, the acolytes join in and Joshua pulls back from the kiss to murmur in your ear.

“Thank you, sweet one.”

He tucks his arm through yours and leads the two of you back through the chamber, the Undying bowing their heads as you pass, back to the carriage you and Clive left only minutes ago – Joshua had promised the ceremony would be short, after all.

Aided by Joshua’s hand, you climb back up into the carriage and he follows to nestle in at your side, shutting the door before peppering your face and neck with kisses.

“Joshua,” you giggle, the carriage once again lurching forward. You were heading back to the sanctum where more Undying will be waiting to see the Phoenix and his wife and at this rate you’re going to be as red as your gown by the time you arrive.

“I can’t help it,” he withdraws. “It’s this dress – you look… I mean…”

You laugh again, cupping his face with your palm. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He moves your hand from his face, kissing your knuckles. “So much.”

You stare into each other’s eyes, soaking in your first private moment with your husband -  the word makes your stomach flip – before he lets go of your hand and plucks at the fabric of your skirt.

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking?”

He bites his lip before he responds, the boyish grin returning. “I am wondering if, when we enter our bedchambers, this gown will burn as quickly as the cloak did.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[thevividgreenmoss]

Even if I returned tomorrow and lived in my first home, I would need to remain in retreat. We are dealing here with interior solitude, in the sense that I need to be able to look at my interior world and preserve my freedom of writing. The reader must not be the direct witness of writing. He should even be remote from it. I know, however, that he is always present, but this presence is veiled, indirect. Otherwise, the reader would become a policeman. I should add that exile is not strictly a distance from the homeland. Before my first voluntary departure from Palestine, I was a stranger in my homeland, an exile in my homeland, a prisoner in my homeland, and this did not affect for a single instant that which united us. I am somehow accustomed to these exercises of life, culture, and sentiments which the dialectical relationship between exile and land imposes. And I am convinced that exile is profoundly anchored in me, to the point that I cannot write without it. I will carry it wherever I go, and I will bring it back to my first home.

Mahmoud Darwish, Our Present Does Not Decide Either to Begin or to End: An interview with Liana Badr, Zakariyya Muhammad, and Mundher Jaber (Translated from French by Amira El-Zein and Carolyn Forché)

[t00thpasteface]

Do your shoulders hurt? From single-handedly carrying the Hawkahy fandom for so long?

no, because seven months isn't all that long in the grand scheme of things, and it would be very wrong of me to act like i'm atlas carrying the weight of this ship when there were people posting hawkahy fic online while i was still in elementary school. i'm definitely not doing this singlehandedly; there's plenty of other brilliant, funny, and talented hawkahy fans drawing art, writing fic, and otherwise spreading the good word to keep the ball rolling. i mean, this isn't marcien or kingcade we're talking about here; i wasn't the first post in the hawkahy tag!

i really appreciate the sentiment, but i want to make it perfectly clear that i'm not in the rarepair game to get people throwing roses at my feet. i just go wherever the brainworms lead me and try to serve up some smiles along the way! rather than stroke my ego, i'd much rather see people channel their enthusiasm into their own creations and join me in the ball pit ☆~(ゝᴗ ∂)

[mariacallous]

Around a dozen masked individuals marched in downtown Columbus, Ohio, on Saturday carrying Nazi flags and hurling antisemitic and racist rhetoric, earning condemnation from a broad range of officials including the White House and the state’s Republican governor.

The display came only a week after another neo-Nazi gathering in Michigan outside a community theater production of “The Diary of Anne Frank.” 

The marches exacerbated fears among Jewish groups and others that the reelection of President Donald Trump may trigger an increase in white supremacist activity.

“I’m sorry the President-elect has emboldened these creeps,” tweeted Columbus City Council President Shannon Hardin, a Democrat. “This community rejects their pathetic efforts to promote fear and hate.”

A White House spokesperson condemned the march Monday morning as a “sickening display” and said President Joe Biden “abhors the hateful poison of Nazism, antisemitism, and racism.”

“We will not tolerate hate in Ohio,” the state’s governor, Mike DeWine, said in a statement published on social media. “Neo-Nazis — their faces hidden behind red masks — roamed streets in Columbus today, carrying Nazi flags and spewing vile and racist speech against people of color and Jews.”

Referring to what he said were reports that the group was “also espousing white power sentiments,” DeWine continued, “There is no place in this State for hate, bigotry, antisemitism, or violence, and we must denounce it wherever we see it.”

Some members of the group were armed, and at least one member sprayed pepper spray at spectators, according to the Columbus Dispatch. Police detained several people on the scene in response to reports of a physical altercation but later told reporters they “determined that an assault did not take place and all of the individuals were released.” Police had separately told the Columbus Jewish News that physical altercations “broke out, stopped and then broke out again.”

National Jewish groups including the Anti-Defamation League and the American Jewish Committee condemned the march, with AJC regional director Lee Shapiro calling it “another sad example of the bigotry that we have witnessed across the country.” The Columbus Jewish federation and Jewish Community Relations Council also condemned the march, telling the Jewish News they were “disgusted by the reprehensible display of hate.”

The rally was also condemned by the city’s Democratic mayor and by its Democratic city attorney, Zach Klein.

“Columbus embraces diversity of opinions, religions, backgrounds and everything that makes us special, but we will never embrace hate. Take your flags and the masks you hide behind and  go home and never come back. Your hate isn’t welcome in our city,” Klein said in a statement. “I stand with our Jewish friends and all those who continue to be targeted by bias and hate. I’ll always have your back.”

Also over the weekend, hundreds of people in a Philadelphia suburb turned up outside a public library to protest a Nazi flag that had been flown briefly outside a private residence in Whitpain Township. Following media attention, the homeowners replaced the swastika flag with an American flag, according to CBS News. 

A similar, though much smaller, rally had taken place in the state capital of Harrisburg, in August, following a neo-Nazi demonstration there.

“The thing that scared me about this is that someone was willing, in their neighborhood, to put out a Nazi flag because that says something about them,” Lynne Krause, president of the newly formed non-denominational synagogue Darchei Noam in nearby Ambler, told CBS about the Whitpain Nazi flag. “They felt so at comfort to let people know, ‘This is what I believe.’ … White supremacy, Nazi stuff, it’s on the rise, and I think it’s unfortunate.”