#ezra steele

[taiyo-to-tetsuu]

song from new thing, thinking of name change not sure yet. album title/new artist name inspired from your best is an idiot by father figure, sometimes like to listen while playing stalker

[autism-disco]

i love music so much you don’t understand i’m it’s. bejdbdbbdbdbvvbv

[buthigor]

The Flash

(DC Studios)

[comicweek]

The Flash - Big Game Spot

[loudlylovingreview]

James Laughlin: Easter in Pittsburgh

Even on Easter Sunday when the church was ajungle of lilies and ferns fat Uncle Paulwho loved his liquor so would pound awaywith both fists on the stone pulpit shoutingsin sin sin and the fiery fires of helland I cried all after-noon the first time Iheard what they did to Jesus it was somethingthe children shouldn’t know about till theywere older but the new maid told me and bothof us cried a lot…

[lunammoon]

The undead that found Ezra were the parents of the child who's grave they'd been left on. For the first year in the necropolis everyone's thought they were either a spirit or a hallucination until the they got sick and suddenly some Mourn Watchers barely graduated was face to face with the very panicked skeletons of Josiah and Hilda Ingellvar (apparently skeletons can look panicked who knew) holding a very ill looking elven three-year-old.

this is a post where i ask you to share a random fact about your rook! could be something you've been dying to say or something you've just made up!

[endless-ineffabilities]

there's hope for us yet - (1/2)

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader

After being overpowered by Baylan Skoll, Ahsoka and the reader find themselves in the World Between Worlds, each confronted with a version of Anakin. The reader meets the Anakin she fell in love with. Or, still loves.

masterlist ▪︎ part two

"Hello, stardust."

Two words. Two simple but poignant words to send you out of orbit. Wherever you are.

You had opened your eyes to an endless picture of the galaxy, stars and planets as far as you can see. Planes of light acting like pathways, one of which you found yourself lying down on.

Then you stood, head light.

And then you hear him.

Anakin.

You swear there is nothing else like it, the sound of his voice which used to be your very anchor.

"Impossible." You whisper, before finally turning around.

There he stands, as real as the last day you saw him. Donning his dark Jedi attire, blonde curls atop his perfect face.

"What did I tell you?" He tsked at you, shaking his head fondly. "Nothing's impossible."

"I'm dead, aren't I?" You take a step closer, as he walks towards you. This must be heaven, you want to add, but that seemed too hopeful. Desperate.

Heaven, after all, would always be with him. Anakin, who was lost after the duel on Mustafar.

"Do you really think that, stardust?" He reaches you, tucking a stray strand behind your ear. "Look around."

So you do. But truth be told, you don't want to look at anything else apart from him.

"Another... realm," you try to figure it out. "You've mentioned this, haven't you? Obi-Wan talked of a realm that encompasses all realms. All of time and space."

Anakin hums in approval, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. "If in here I still have you... then here is all there ever should be."

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, trying hard to fight them off. He swoops in at your rescue, bridging the gap between you two with a searing kiss.

It feels real, you think. And it must be, because how else can it make your entire being ablaze. His lips are softer than your memory serves, the sweet taste of him ingrained like a branding. Ani, Anakin. Your Anakin.

His tongue snakes past your teeth, begging for more. His hand tilts your head back to gain leverage.

"My stardust," he whispers against your skin, when he pulls away to drag his lips on your cheek. When he repeats it, his words take on a different tone. "My stardust. Mine." He nearly growls at the end, the sound of it low and grating in your ear.

The Force shifts. Where you felt uncertainty and hope, now you feel something darker. Something's not right here.

"Where is Ahsoka?"

"That's nothing you should concern yourself with." Anakin steps to your side, one hand toying with your hair. When he is behind you, you feel his breathing on the back of your neck, just imploring you to give in. "What matters is us, stardust."

"This isn't real." You shake your head. "At least, this is not my time, my current path. I have to go back. We have to find Ezra."

"This is real." His arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing your back to his chest. "You wound me, stardust. Do you not want me? Just like this?"

"I can feel you," you step away from him, immediately deflated at the lack of contact, as wrong as it may be. "and you're not really my Anakin, are you?"

He chuckles, low in his chest. There is nothing friendly about the gesture. "I am who I have always been meant to become. This is me. This is the man you love."

"No." You circle each other, akin to predator and prey, and you're not sure which one you are. "The man I love ..." you raise your voice, resolve weakening, "... is dead."

A moment hangs between you, filled with silence, but electrifying all the same. He holds you in his steel blue gaze, and for just a second, you can believe that he is truly yours. His mouth curls up in that familiar smirk, his eyebrows raise toward the center.

Please, he seems to say, this is me. I love you now, as I always have.

But the moment passes, and a gloom casts over his expression.

"Fine," he sneers. "Have it your way, stardust."

And the world falls all around you.

Everything is burning.

The Clone Wars rage at all sides, smoke filling the air and impairing your line of sight.

Anakin was by your side one second, the next he was lost to you in the midst of all the fighting.

You think you can hear him calling your name, but it seems so far away. Your main focus is on the open wound by your ribs, sustained from a blaster shot, staining blood through your white tunic.

You groan due to it all, but the familiarity of the pain somehow dulls the sensation.

I've been here before.

Anakin calls your name, much nearer now, and soon enough he is right in front of you. Face contorted in a mixture of rage and relief.

"Stardust!" He yells. "I told you to stick with me. Why do you never listen?"

"It's not my fault! I was..." Pain shoots through you, bringing you to your knees, and you press your hand against your side. "I was sidetracked by all the..."

"You're hurt. Kriff's sake, stardust. How can you do this me?"

"To you? I'm the one injured here."

He babbles on, inspecting your wound with precise movements. "I don't know what I would do without you. You can't get hurt, do you hear me? I would not be able to fight in these wars. You have to be alright."

His sincerity tugs at your heart, and you reach for his face. He takes a deep breath, pressing his nose against your palm.

"I'll be alright, Ani," you try to calm him down. "Nothing a little bacta spray can't fix."

"Right," he reaches inside his pocket, revealing the spray case. The immediate relief you feel as the solution comes in contact with your wound makes you sigh deeply. "This should tide you over until we get you to a medic."

"Snips alright?" You look around, trying to catch a glimpse of his young Padawan.

"She's alright," he confirms, helping you up with one arm firmly around you. "Worry about yourself for now, okay?"

"Are you alright?" You completely ignore his sentiment, giving him a once over. Well, what are you thinking? Of course he's alright. Anakin can face a thousand belligerents on his own and come out unscathed.

He pauses, a smile encroaching upon his face.

"Oh, stardust." He sighs, moving in front of you, and holding your face with both hands.

An explosion erupts from behind him, billowing fires. The atmosphere is red, an intense haze of destruction looming over the scene. There is screaming from all sides. Cries of attack and defense.

But Anakin only has eyes for you.

"I'll always be okay, as long as I have you by my side."

You remember this moment. You remember how you clammed up, and merely nodded in response. The gloom of battle like an assault to your senses.

Say something. But you can't, because you didn't.

Anakin presses a kiss to your forehead, and your eyes close.

And then he is gone.

I will always be with you, Ani.

But it is too late.

Always.

This is just a two-parter, and the next part will be sad/angsty, so brace yourselves. He is Darth Vader, after all.

update: part two is posted!

[crownedinmarigolds]

All of the VTM collaboration art for 2024! Sorry to re-post, I just wanted to have a big post where I can put them all one spot! Happy Holidays!! Hecata Family Portrait! Gangrel Fall! Thinblood Renaissance Faire! Malkavian Lupercalia Valentine's Day! Nosferatu New Year!

All of the characters and art are provided by the VTM Tumblr community who are all so gorgeous and talented! All of the artists are listed on the original posts but I will also try to list them all beneath the cut as well to make sure they get the praise they deserve!

Happy Holidays: Lygota and Slaine - @totally-a-tzimisce Shirraz - @rattenprince CC and Lynx - @squiretinnion Tali - @salubri-outcast Misha, Nancy and Charlie - @m4rloe5 Lattie - @casuallycryptidcider Mina - @arc-tu-rus Skadi and Dawn - @maxahlia Briar + Walter and Lark - @wizzsp Leech and Jellybean - @kentuckycaverats Caius - @knownsome Parvati, Harrakhty, and Kahanni - me!! Magpie - @dykeferatu Alexei - @demonbones Soledad - @aztarion The Lady, Reid, and Tammy - @anarchswild Gretchen - @mortifying-macaroni Thana - squiretinnion Artemiy and Joon - @salems-lots Solomon, Melinda, Sophie, and Seth - @scribesofcalamity Aidan - art by me, but belongs to @deathandthesoul! Hecata Family: Anansi, Imogen, Aydan, Rocco, and Holly @confusedwithglitter Bryce Milliner @salubri-outcast Dr. Winston Mccaine and Bacia @morticrows Lucio @hunter-slime-660 Sabina Rico @squiretinnion Demetra "Demi" Giovanni @salubri-outcast Marcello Marchetti and Ash @superfastsquiddle Dionosio "Dio" Giovanni @salubri-outcast The Hidalgo Coterie - Crystal, Noa, Nythanel, Bravo, Cori - by myself! Amadou @holly-bearie Sasha @rattenprince Diego de Mondellis @cynical-tuba Xochi @urbanknightart Mattia Faulkner @harbingerofskulls Marcello Giovanni and Mirabella @squiretinnion Rosin @milk-crafting Deirdre and Mallory "Mal" Corvinelli @wizzsp Bernadette and Beatrix Beaumont @renaissancebadboy Gangrel Gang: Misha - @m4rloe5 Jensen - @satteredhunter Saffiya - @spell-fox Corvus - @renaissancebadboy Aidan - Spell-Fox Nixie Tube, Lexi Lyall, Darius, Hannah, and Mouse - @problemsynth Kuro - @urbanknightart Eli - Spell-Fox Dayo - @enderkriller77 Beepli Alison - @salubri-outcast Trixie - CrownedinMarigolds Damaris - @thesixthplaneteer Hugo Pitt - @squiretinnion Annette and Bones - @sheriff-shitstarter Alyssa and Lisa - @anarchswild Marcy - @confusedwithglitter JJ Slayter - @lealdog Ajax - @wizzsp Blake Moore - @vtmgremlin Fern - @lylailaeth Marina - @knuxtiger4 Wallis and Reynard - salubri-outcast Snare - TheSixthPlaneteer The Mariner - @holly-bearie Gaius - @ollieanderr Thinblood Faire: Jesse Steele - Fullblood Caitiff Scourge - @discodiablo (art by me!) John Carmichael - @emissary-of-stuff Ezra and Skye - @wizzsp Havi - @m4rloe5 Camilla - @renaissancebadboy My Stakebait Coterie! Ralph, Khloe, Kyle, and Christian! Gabbie - @del-uxie Leo - @cynical-tuba Ramona - also @renaissancebadboy!! Lucian - @squiretinnion Miles - @confusedwithglitter Cecil and Perry - @zyurp Blanche - @holly-bearie Del - @kentuckycaverats

Malkavian Valentine's: Monday - @zyurp Sophia - @holly-bearie Rigby - @themarginalthinker Emil - @morticrows Mir and Marie - @problemsynth Claire - @pretend-pretend-vampire Thom - @socialprawn Charlie - @osatokun Quinn and Sunspire - @tzimizce Niko - @shaydh Daimund - @thesixthplaneteer (art by me!) Shivers - @kmpshitposter Andrea - @bugcouncil Heleen - @m4rloe5 j and clemency - @luoniiel and @kermitted-cause Brooklyn - @svampira Wyrd - @clompe Apollo - @mountainashfae Lucas, Noelle, and Zeus - @supersquiddle Finn - @confusedwithglitter Lyla and Thirteen - @problemsynth Father Emir - @urbanknightart Monroe - @cynical-tuba

Nosferatu New Year: @its-sixxers - Elaine de la Saules, Casimmir, Briar Mary, Adam Romaniuk @themarginalthinker - Blue, Charlie, Tweak @tzimizce - Quinn @confusedwithglitter - Orpheus @the-art-block - Oginn, Atena:ti, Lamb, and Wolf Mother @holly-bearie - Angelo @problemsynth - Nere @m4rloe5 - Charlie

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: midway through writing this, i realized it got too romantic, and then i changed my writing music and it suddenly all became clear looool here's your smut (even though i initially thought this fic was going to be way smuttier)

part 15: the king and his queen

word count: 2,831 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @immyowndefender

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Tommy sat in the office of the Garrison, cigarette in hand, staring at the reports spread across his desk. His expression was unreadable, but the sharp set of his jaw betrayed his tension. The fire at your bookshop had been days ago, but the fallout lingered like smoke in the air, thick and suffocating.

The door creaked open, and Arthur, John, Finn, and Michael filed in, their faces unusually grim. Arthur carried a small red notebook and what looked like a charred photo in his hand.

Tommy barely glanced up. “How bad was it?”

“There wasn't much we could do, Tom,” John said, his tone unusually subdued. "There were some books in the back that were saved, but the structure is lost."

Tommy’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “What else?”

Arthur stepped forward, dropping the photo and notebook onto Tommy’s desk. “Thought we might find somethin’ useful, but a lot of it was gone.” He hesitated, his usual bravado replaced with an uneasy edge. “Found this instead.”

Tommy reached for the photo first. It was warped at the edges from the fire, but the image was clear enough. He studied the man's features. Photographs usually told so little, but from this small glimpse of a face from your life—one he assumed had not resurfaced since your time in Birmingham—he found himself retreat. His usual firm hold on his emotions faltered at the sight of a man who could have meant so much to you.

Finn, standing off to the side, muttered, “Guessin’ that’s someone she cared about.”

Michael crossed his arms. “We found it in her desk. Buried under a pile of papers—like she didn’t want to see it but couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.”

Tommy turned the photo over, finding a date and a name scrawled in your handwriting: Ezra—1919.

“What else?” Tommy asked, his voice calm but commanding.

Arthur put his hand on the red notebook and slid it forward. "Haven't opened it yet, but it's hers."

Tommy ran his fingers over the leather. The temptation to pry it open and dive deeper into your thoughts coursed through his arm, but he resisted. He placed his hand down firmly on the journal with a heavy sigh. The last time he pried into your life, you met him head on. Unlike then, you wouldn't have expected anyone, let alone him, to see into the very depths of your soul. He didn't know why, but the thought unsettled him. He wondered when it had become such a priority to consider your privacy as something of importance.

Michael leaned forward, his voice sharp. “Should we try to find him?”

John tapped the photo. “Whoever he is, he meant something to her. For all we know, he's the cause of all this. Maybe he's involved.”

Tommy stared at the picture again, his mind working like clockwork. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s the reason she’s running.”

Finn frowned. “Think he’s dead?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. His eyes lingered on the man—Ezra's face until the features had solidified in his mind. He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, standing up and pocketing the photo. “I’ll talk to her.”

Arthur scoffed. “And if she doesn’t tell you?”

“She will." Tommy’s eyes were cold as steel. "In time. Don't tell her what you found. She's still healing.”

As the others filed out, Tommy stayed behind, his hand brushing over the photograph in his pocket. Whoever Ezra had been, whatever happened to him, Tommy knew it held the key to understanding your past. And perhaps, at last, everything would finally unravel.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The early evening light filtered through the tall windows of Arrow House, bathing the room in a golden glow. You sat in a plush armchair near the fire, a book balanced on your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in some time. Your wounds had closed, and what remained was the budding presence of scars, ones that wouldn't soon fade. The physical wounds may have mended, but the ache beneath the surface lingered, more persistent than you wanted to admit.

The sound of footsteps drew your attention. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Tommy always walked with a deliberate purpose, a rhythm you’d come to recognize.

“Come to regale me with another story of a good day at the race?” you said without looking up, your voice tinged with dry amusement.

“Not today,” he replied, stepping into the room. “If those stories don't interest you, I will tell Arthur to stop.”

You chuckled, just loud enough for him to hear. “If that is what enthuses Arthur, then who am I to stop him? Better than him trying to watch me like an injured bird trying to take flight.”

Tommy moved to stand near the mantle, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they studied you. The photograph of Ezra still lay safely in his pocket. He continuously tucked it away, convincing himself that now wasn't the right time to ask you. Eventually, it became routine to slip it back into his pocket in the hopes that it was finally time. His fingers toyed with its edges, the presence of your past trying to escape into the open.

But he couldn't. As the days past, you looked more and more at peace. You'd settled into a new routine. Finn brought books back to Arrow House, and while none of them knew what it actually was that you liked to read, they all started to recognize your true glimpses at contentment. Whether it was a book or a conversation that had no hint of duplicity, there was a part of you that was perfectly capable of what some considered to be a normal life. The possibility of shattering this and bringing you back into his world weighed heavier on his shoulders than he would have ever imagined.

Eventually, you grew used to his presence. You sighed from your place by the fire, gently massaging your shoulder. With one hand, you unbuttoned the first few inches of your shirt and eased the collar down to reach the ache. Tommy's eyes drifted to the newborn scar, but then his gaze wandered to your chest. Your breaths were soft and steady, a tempo that matched the ticking of the clock behind him.

“You're healing well." He broke the silence. Your eyes flickered up to him with a soft smile in acknowledgement.

“Like I said before,” you replied, closing the book and setting it aside. “I do not control how a body heals, even less so, my own.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. With the slightest movement of your shoulder, Tommy found himself staring at the scar again, and, as if it were a reflex, he reached for his own. Now a part of his chest, he realized it was just like yours. Tommy’s eyes lingered on your face, searching for something beneath your composed exterior. You tilted your head to the side, eyes fluttering shut with a melodic hum.

No—not now. He couldn't ask you about Ezra now. This moment was so fleeting, and the second he asked, it would be gone forever. If only for today, he wanted to savor this—you both peacefully existing in the same room without any threats from the outside. It was a selfish decision, and he readily accepted that it was his own.

Tommy didn't know what he was doing when he approached you and reached for the scar, but as if sensing this was a gesture of curiosity, you let him. His fingers were warm and almost soothing as they ran over the fresh patch of skin like he was studying it.

For the briefest second, you tensed, your hand brushing absently over your side where the second wound lay tucked away. Tommy quietly retreated, but before he could step back, you grabbed his wrist and stood.

You let out a heavy breath, eyes shutting again in thought. Still holding his arm, you guided his hand to the buttons that were still clasped and nodded.

"You were a gentleman then," you nodded, mostly to yourself. "Telling Arthur and John to leave. I already felt... Exposed. Naked—just from the wounds alone and being seen like that. But, still, you told them to leave, so it wouldn't be so bad. Don't think I didn't notice, Tommy."

Tommy's fingers stayed on the top button like he was still processing if the gesture was an act of repayment or the giving of permission.

"If you need to see it for peace of mind, then you can," you whispered. The usual confidence in your tone dampened into a soft pitch.

He told himself he was doing this because he needed to see if you were telling the truth—that the wound had actually closed and was now just another scar. In reality, he didn't know his intentions. It could still have been a need, but it was one with weak conviction.

Tommy undid the rest of your shirt and parted it just enough to see the second scar. Your arms stayed relaxed at your sides, your face still but forlorn, as he touched the wound gently enough to make you shiver. He pressed the palm of his hand against your waist, firm and steadying.

He stepped closer, and your lungs filled with the scent that had accompanied you to dreams for many nights, always by your side. Tommy looked down at your as if he was silently seeking permission. Though, in truth, he didn't know what he was asking for.

As if seeing the war raging in his head, you reached for his neck and pulled him towards you. You rested your lips against his with a sigh—at last, feeling what you denied yourself weeks ago. Just a taste of him was enough, you told yourself. Just one.

Unlike then, he didn't move with urgency. He simply waited for you to make the decision. If it was just a kiss, then that's all it was. For once, he accepted this was out of his control.

You pulled back, eyes bearing into his with a seriousness one only experienced in the face of a choice that would not soon be presented again—or at all.

"Listen to me, Thomas Shelby," you whispered. Your stare commanded his to never tear away from yours as you spoke, insisting without words to hear you clearly because you wouldn't repeat yourself again. "I am not something to be won because I am earned."

Tommy's breath flitted across your skin as you spoke, and in your words, you showed him that your guard could go up at any moment. But for the moment, you were letting him acknowledge the mask of pain and power, one that only you possessed and chose to grace him with. The burden of understanding you wasn't not something easily given.

"If I give myself to you, I'm never taking any of it back." You spoke so firmly, the weight of your words forcing him to listen. "And if you give yourself to me, I am never letting you go."

He told you once that your purpose of being here would come out whether you dared to say it out loud or not. While you couldn't bring yourself to say this gently, you said it regardless.

"Every mistake you've ever made until now means nothing to me. But if this is a mistake—one you will come to regret, then tell me now. Tell me what you want." Your grip on his neck intensified with the slight twitch of your fingers. "That's why I'm here. That's why I made my choice. It scares you to crave, but it terrifies you to need. If you tell me now that I am a passing craving, then you've proved a point—that this was just business. But if you need me, all I want is for you to say it. And mean it."

It wasn't a threat. This was a declaration of self-preservation over the fantasy of possibilities.

For a moment, Tommy stayed silent.

He'd loved before, loved countless times to the point where it all might have been meaningless—just fleeting moments where he felt love, but it never lingered. And now, with your intentions finally out in the open, he understood. Your goal was to force him to experience it all—the pain and the loss. To be loved and respected. To choose to be alone no longer, and to understand what it meant to choose someone because he needed them and not because he wanted them for the moment.

You wanted him to face the inevitable—that loving someone wasn't a choice. But to love someone who was truly good for him, who didn't just love the idea of what he could be—that was a choice.

And he made his decision.

Tommy gripped your waist, sliding your shirt over your shoulders until it fell to the floor around your ankles. With a solitary sigh, he kissed you again, still as gentle as the first.

"I need you."

The words rang in your ears like an autumn breeze numbing summer's heat. And all at once, his lips found you again. His touch was tender, methodically moving in a way that still treated you as fragile beneath his fingertips. He carried you to the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, peppering you with kisses until all you felt was the need he'd suppressed for so long.

You sat up, taking his face in your hands. His eyes searched yours for permission, and with the soft nod of your head, his hands wandered your body, discovering and adventuring across your skin. He slipped his shirt off, and your eyes landed on the scar on his chest.

You reached for it, seeing in a different way how similar you both were. This was not an attempt to put the other back together, but a way to hold the broken pieces to the light and admire the sunlight between the cracks. To love the other earnestly and honestly, and to hope in desperation and the fear of never loving again.

Tommy watched you as you straddled him. You eased him into you with a long drawn out sigh, pressing your forehead against his. With one hand, he steadied your waist, guiding you as your hips moved, and with the other, he held your cheek with the gentle stroke of his thumb.

He sighed against your neck, groaning every time he slid inside you, the full length of him feeling the warmth of your walls. He admired you as you grinded into him, the last of your defenses crumbling down at his touch. There was no more need for words. Tommy let you take him in whatever way you desired. He didn't care if you were using him for your own pleasure. All that mattered was that you accepted his need, reciprocated with your own carnal desire to claim him.

Slowly, the mood changed. Your eyes darkened as it suddenly settled in that, together, this was something new. It wasn't just romance. It was the molding of the power you both held. Others only alluded that together, you and Tommy could set the world on fire—if that was what you desired. He held the match, and you soaked it with gasoline. At your command, he would set the world ablaze and build you a throne from the ashes and debris.

Tommy laid you back down on the bed and lowered himself in between your legs. He gripped your thighs, taking pleasure in how you writhed from the motions of his tongue. He hummed against your core, his mouth moving with an urgency that mimicked his need and hunger. You threw your head back with a gasp as his tongue plunged deep inside you, curling and pulling you against his face.

He pulled you closer, lapping up the dampness dripping down his chin. You gripped his hair, urging him to keep going until you felt that tug in the pit of your stomach. Your legs clenched, and with a guttural moan, you came until you twisted onto your stomach, riding the high as you spilled out onto the bed. Tommy positioned himself above you and slid back into your pulsing core. He eased himself inside you, taking a hold of your chest and holding you against him. He panted against your neck, his tongue dragging against your skin like no amount of your taste was enough. With a final thrust, he collapsed, his hips still grinding against you to draw out the ecstasy.

You panted, keeping a firm grip on the sheets until he was gentle once more. He kissed your shoulder with a sigh. Tommy's lips curled into a knowing grin, and you met his expression with equal satisfaction.

The game has changed with an entirely new board. The King has his Queen, and it was only a matter of time before the world would feel the ground rumble beneath their feet.

[cookie-crumblr]

What would happen if we ignored Ezra and didn't care what he did for a day?

SORRY ITS TAKEN ME LITERALLY SO LONG!!! TYSM FOR THE ASKS!!! ily all 💋✨

He’d get so angry.

So toxic,

ecstatic and sad all at the same time.

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: GN!Reaader, no body descriptions for reader, not proofread, explicit language, violence, NON CON SA. VIOLENCE AGAINST READER. names used against reader(Cunt, ), assault, loud “noises”, general bullying against reader!

Status: Not even close to dating

“Fuck off! Just, leave me alone already!!” You stormed off, leaving him somewhat dumbfounded with a lust filled smirk cemented to his face.

He fixes his jaw.

“, finally” He swaggers away in the other direction, for now.

Later~

“Are you still ignoring me, Y/N?”

You pick up your things and go to move seats without a word.

He watches you through twitching lowered brows, gaining annoyance as a ripe little cherry on top of everything else he’s been feeling since you left in a huff this morning.

Ignore him will ya? Welp, he’ll just have to make it harder for you to do so.

He moves seats too.

You move seats again, before, “Y/L/N, You’re disrupting class. Either stay seated this time, or get out.” The professor says.

Fuck.

Well now you’re stuck next to him…

You sit on the side edge of your seat as far away from him as possible, in fact only one freakin butt cheek is even on the dang thing. You’re even facing completely away when, he start rapping his fingers against the desk. His head is in his hand.

“Uhhhhg just stop already!” He moans. He’s so loud, you’d swear his noises are way more disruptive than you moving seats maybe if you just—

“Sit back down, or leave.”

You groan loud and draw it out. HES WAY LOUDER! Why is he NEVER in trouble???

Whatever. only … Fuck… sixty more minutes… Gods why are courses so long!

He huffs loudly next to you and blows some strawberry blonde hair out of his face.

It’s too bad he’s so hot, his looks are wasted on such a nasty dude.

A hand slaps your thigh and grips your inner flesh tightly to where it stings! “Ow!!”

“Shhh!” the professor turns from the screen toward your direction.

“Sorry Sur…” UHG. Whatever.

“Pfft,” He’s laughing. He’s seriously laughing at you!

You know what! Fine. You will leave. And you do.

Ezra follows you to the hallway.

You speed up and try to go hide in the restroom.

Once inside you sigh, but relief is cut short when the door opens.

You clamber into a stall, Fuck fuck FUCK. No! now you’re alone with him! Oh shit. Oh no. Oh gods…

*SLAM! BANG! CRASH!*

You jump. You think he kicked in a stall door, it sounded like it flew off its poor hinges. You cower with your whole body scrunched on top of the toilet.

You realize you’re shaking.

You cover your own mouth to silence yourself but—

*BANG-CRASH!*

You muffle a whimper but you know he heard you.

“Y/N~ I know you’re in here,”

*BANG-CLANG-CRASH*

FUCK!

There’s only one left before yours…

*Flick*

Huh? A lighter…

You smell cigarette smoke, and a tear forms at the corner of your eye. He’s just toying with you as always, he has to be… Right?

“Y/N~” He’s cooing in an almost sing-songy voice. “If you come out now, i’ll give ya a reward…”

You wipe your face, and steel yourself for a second…

Okay… Fine.

It’s probably better than whatever he’d do to you if you keep cowering until he inevitably gets to you, in two more kicks.

You open the door.

“There~ That wasn’t so hard wasit?” His voice is so gentle right now, but it does little to calm you.

You turn your head in defiance.

“You really wanna do this, huh? Ignorin’ me or whatever,” He flicks away his cigarette and you can’t hold in the air that leaves you in actual relief, that’s one less weapon against you.

He closes the distance in a single movement, grasping your face by the cheeks and squeezing them. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You don’t.

“Look. At. Me. Now.”

You remain stead fast.

“You finally got s’m balls, eh.” He smiles and drops your face with a soft uncharacteristic caress to your jaw.

You break and take a quick glance at him.

“ahhh, you want that, huh?” He brings back that sweet voice… “You want me to be all lovey and soft huh?” Your heart thumps in your chest hard. He doesn’t mean it, he’s not gonna change and you know it. “Too Fuckin’ bad” He grabs your face again before throwing it down, he grabs your body next and throws you down onto the dirty bathroom floor.

“Please!!” You cover your face with your arms, but it’s no use hes on top of you, pulling your arms away from you, ripping open your legs and pulling them up on either side of him.

His buckle is loud in your ears as he undoes it, before your hearing cuts out, did he punch you? Your whole head hurts and your vision is fuzzy.

Your skull must’ve bounced off the ceramic tiles.

He punches you again, he’s not using his full strength but it might still knock you out.

“Stupid cunt, you think you can ignore me?” He spits.

“Please, Ezra!!! Sto—op—p” You’re choking out sobs but you can barley hear yourself as if your in another room from your own body.

He spits on his own dick and spreads it around before entering you, at least he’ll give you that.

It still hurts.

He’s rough, not caring that your already damaged skull is continuing to bounce off the floor.

eventually you’re out cold. It’s a small mercy. But a mercy nonetheless.

When you come to you’re still on the floor, naked and afraid as people surround your battered body and snap pics and laugh.

“Aw shit, they’re awake” one says.

“Damn” another adds.

You grab your stuff and bolt, new tears streaming down your puffy face.

[muder-boner]

☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

➤; ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ.↶

⬆︎ made by : @rainydayzxd , my beautiful child and best friend

Tws for my blog : mention of $h, mentions of fighting , a lot of venting bcuz I hate my life, cigarettes, uh strict parents and they're shitty asf, past shit that still haunts me, swearing, sometimes me being hard on myself, I do not post $h pics.

NO CREEPS, PEOPLE OVER THE AGE OF 20 I AM A MINOR AND I'M NOT LOOKING FOR ANYTHING LIKE THAT (ifykwim) (exeptions for ppl w alters, and age regression but like.. U turn into adult idk how to explain. )

TW FOR UNDER READ-THINGY, GIFS, WEIRD GORE BAND NAMES, also I'm sorry if the colors above r triggerringg, I'm coloring so it's noticeable (the tws)

...tw, please don't tell me I didn't warn u.

Fucking welcome !! Have a drink 🤘

This profile ain't a vent one even though most of the time I complain and whine on here, I'm actually really nice if you interact with me, ask @rainydayzxd . (They're my child and my baby I'll protect them at all costs) I often pet regress, so like..please don't be weird. Only *REALLY* close moots can call me pup,..( @agirlfr0msomewhere @rainydayzxd @raytorosguitarstrap @s1l4s-w0rsh1ps-t0m4t03s @jordanikeepforgettingtheurl... if anyone else calls me pup and I don't trust them...like..tell them.).

I suffer with $h, I find it hard to find anything i deserve in this world, I don't post $h pics, if there's a post I didn't tag (like a tw) please DM or send me an ask, I'm trying my best to have a safe spot people can interact with.

↑↑↑↑ me

RULES FOR MY ASKS: NO bullying, like plz, no asks for donations (honestly, hard to know if ur a bot or not.) , rants about stuff are encouraged, no political shit, no weird questions about me, yk stuff like that.

If you DM me, please do not spam me, makes me overwhelmed.

best ffriends on Tumblr! : @agirlfr0msomewhere @rainydayzxd @deliu07 @kornyblu @dazaissceneslut @raytorosguitarstrap @s1l4s-w0rsh1ps-t0m4t03s

Hallo !! I'm looking 4 friendz, here iz my info dump

My name is Ezra !! Ftm dude and I go by he him

I'm Romanian , yet idk shit abt Romania, or do the whole "tradition" thing,

I am currently a caregiver, if you're looking for some kind of comfort, feel free to ask! (Caregiver for Jordan !! ):3

Spacehey: https://spacehey.com/hazyeyesez

➤ Music Genre

➤ Emo rock, Death Metal, Nu metal, Goregrind, Sometimes metal core, Power Metal, Glam metal, Black Metal yesssrrrrriririr(Yes I'm a metal head)

➤ Artists and Bands

KoRn , Green Day , Weezer, Tokio Hotel, Mitski, Eminem, Esophagus, Steve Gabry, Your Favorite Martian, The Smiths, Epic Rap Battles Of History, Pink Floyd, BabyMetal, Gorillaz, The Strokes, LMFAO, Arctic Monkeys, JT Music, IC3SPEAK, My Chemical Romance, Metallica, Anal Vomit, System of a down, Slayer, Slave steel, Mortician, Slipknot, The Anxiety, Darkthrone, Burzum, BABYMETAL.

Here's my playlist! There's more than 100 songs that only show, uh, yeah.

Trigger warning, weird gore names.

➤ Fandoms : Call Of Duty, Cry Of Fear, My Little Pony, The Walking Dead, Shameless, Deathgasm, Sally face, Err can't really thing of anything else man.

➤ Moviez : Fight club, The virgin suicides, FNAF Movie, The Mario movie, Coraline, Studio Ghibli movies, Deathgasm , All Fred Figglehorn movies, Dinner in America.

➤ Fave colorz : Green , a lot of green,red and of course, the best shade ever, Black

➤ Favorite pony from main 6 : applejack

➤ Favorite pony from all series: BIGMAC💗💗

➤ Favorite sanrio : pompompurin he's so me

➤ Favorite Twd character : Carl (i cosplay him!!!) And / or Beth (and many more lol!!)

➤ Favorite Sally face character : Travis Phelps (he's so relatable) (yes I have daddy issues)

➤ Favorite people : @agirlfr0msomewhere, @0r1sw0rldxp, @kornyblu, @s1l4s-w0rsh1ps-t0m4t03s, , @rainydayzxd, @sincerely-jordan-tuck, @deliu07 (STOP CHANGING UR USER NAME SM JORDAN I CAN'T KEEP UP WITH EDITINF THE LIST /pos /j! I luv u change ur username I love ur creativity with em :3)

LOVE MY OTHER MOOTS 2!!!

DNI: - homophobia, racism, sexism, anti furry, anti therian, over 20 , people who want donations, I don't have money, plus I have nothing to do to help. all bad stuff etc. I BLOCK FREELY.

Everyone else is welcome !!<3

I like to think that I'm kind and caring,i love taking care of people, so yes slide in my DMS if u're lonely,im always down to make new moots and friends on here !

➤ My tags !! :

Ezras' food !! ➥ what I ate

Ezras' art !! ➥ my art and drawings

Ezras' outfit !! ➥ what I'm wearing that day

Ezras' day !! ➥ rants about my day

Ezras' vent !! ➥ my vents

Ezras' interests !! ➥ rants about my interests

Ezras' friends !! ➥rants about my friends

Ezras' embarrassing facts !! ➥ My embarrassing facts I'm scared to talk about so I post them on my Tumblr blog!

I might add more in the future !!

Also have tags like "Silas tag !!" Where it's a post or a reblog of my friend or moot !!

Gifs & blinkies are not mine !! (I think that is want they're called

Recently started playing guitar ! fucking metal yes yes

Favorite number: 29

Favorite letter: G L E M A

Oc blogs :

RirI Austerlitz: @cannibal-unicorn-ssssss

2025 new years resolutions

- kiss my girlfriend everyday for the whole year

- get a binder

- get better at making comics writing storie

- get better at guitar

- get slimmer (belly and thighs)

- decorate room

- finish my battle vest

- get rid of acne

- get better at school

- cherish my gf a lot

[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Boys Kissing

An outtake for the people like me who love reading pedro boy x pedro boy. These are exclusively fics with no reader character, so if you're looking for MMF, check out my Multiples outtake. All fics are either M/M or M/M/M or... you get the point.

If you'd like to appear on the spreadsheet, drop me a message here or on my discord @/wannab_urs

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Pretend Alleyways - Dieter/Marcus Moreno series by @radiowallet

One then two chance meetings between famed actor Dieter Bravo and lone wolf Heroic Marcus Moreno leave both yearning for a connection in the least likely of places. Diametrically opposed in every way, what happens when the two men decide to explore the spark of lightning between them?

Alternate universe, third person point of view, mlm dynamics, no reader insert, smut, drug use, smoking, language, drinking, violence, banter, teasing, arguments, depression, anxiety

A Lesson in Blackmailing - Joel/Veracruz one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

What happens when a FEDRA officer working his way up the command ladder makes the grave error of crossing Joel Miller?

Smut, mlm dynamics, alternate universe, FEDRA!Veracruz, frottage, power dynamics, degradation, sir kink, attempted sexual coercion, dark!Joel, no reader insert

The only time we have - Din/Poe one shot by @nerdieforpedro

taking care of physical needs all Din and Poe doing? All they're capable of? Only the darkness and walls know.

anal sex, cum worship, body worship, rough sex, semi-public sex, cockwarming

Ahórcame, Papí - Joel/Frankie/Ezra one shot by @marisferasiop

After he gives a recovering addict a job (and subsequently falls head over heels for him), Joel and Frankie have a sweet, fulfilling relationship as Daddy and little exploring their kinks. Then, they meet Ezra at a leather club, another damaged vet with his own issues and kinks. They take him home, and he never really leaves.

Daddy Kink, Daddy/littles, pup kink, Breathplay (hands on throats), Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Control "Training", Light BDSM, Aftercare, Soft Dom Joel, vers Ezra, Bottom Frankie Morales, Oral Sex, Cockwarming, AnalSex, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Breeding Kink, Heat/rut kink, PTSD mention (vets), gags, fingering, choking, cum eating, prostate milking, fucking machine mention, the elusive "sissygasm"

Hold Please - Dave/Javi P/Marcus Pike series by @ghostofaboy

Dave decides to arrange a little get-together for him, Javier and Marcus.

Anal fingering, oral sex, anal sex, facial, orgasm denial, threesome - m/m/m

Obscenery - Dave York/Tim Rockford series by @sin-djarin

Dave is worried about the day ahead and Tim offers him some advice.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, edging, orgasm delay, these two come with their own warnings - in particular Tim's mouth and how much Dave really likes it.

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

I Know You By Heart - Joel/Ezra series by @sixhours

Joel and Ellie settle into their new lives in Jackson but it's not the easiest transition. Thankfully Jackson has a counselor to help with that.

Joel is bad at feelings and relationships, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), canon-compliant with season 1, SMUT, gay sex, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, angst with a happy ending, romance, alcoholic behavior, age gap (~10ish years so barely a thing)

Cosmic Oddities - Din/Joel series by fromthewhales (AO3)

Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other?

parental bonding, parallels, angst, everyone has issues, everyone needs a hug, touch starved din djarin, injuries, strangers to ??? to lovers, smashing the space western and the zombie western together like 2 ken dolls, trauma, crack-fic adjacent at times, hurt/comfort, soft not super explicit smut, self harm, found family, din djarin eventually removes the helmet, blindfold, long distance relationship, survivors guilt, angst with a happy ending, non sexual intimacy, it gets worse before it gets better, alcohol mention, game II canon divergent — but boy does it come close, canon typical violence, minor character death, major character injury, bi!din djarin, bi!joel miller

Held by the Moon - Dieter/Dave one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Dieter is determined to prove his dedication to the film consultant on his latest project. Dave is determined to not cross any professional boundaries. Only one has the mental fortitude to see their intentions through.

dommy daddy subby baby vibes, "is somebody gonna match my freak?" is the main theme here, drugs/sobriety, Dave is uptight, Dieter is a silly goose, brief film industry stuff, heavy flirting, Dieter is on some Esmerelda shit and Dave is lusting bad like Frollo but without the attempted murder and self-righteous religious stuff, drug testing but make it erotic, this pairing made me insanely horny

Breaking Down Walls - Din/Dio one shot by @crowandmousewritingco (mouse)

Dio doesn't lose fights, but what happens when he does.

dio gets his ass beat, emotions, fluff

Baby, I'm-a Want You - Joel/Javi P series by @perotovar

javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

unprotected p in a, oral, fingering, ass eating, use of plugs, gay terminology (bear, twink, etc), handjobs, blowjobs, swearing, smoking

Non-standard Issue - Frankie/Ezra one shot by @bonezone44

Ezra and Frankie stay behind while the other Triple Frontier boys go out.

D/s, bondage, lacy undies, oral (m), lovingly degrading dirty talk (Ezra is a mess)

[meli-writes]

Bitch-Princess of Toronto

“Cute, right?” Tamsin grins. She gestures to the small, pale mess curled up on the sidewalk couch with her — into her — the 6-foot, mullet-topped werewolf draping her own leather jacket over it to keep it warm. “Got the Bitch-Princess of Toronto purring in my lap.”

“I don’t purr,” the mess purrs back, echoing off the motor-repair shop’s walls, with an idle flash of fang catching Ezra’s eye.

“You want me to use the word ‘snore?’” Tamsin asks, irritatingly casual about it all.

Because Ezra, well they have been watching those fangs every day this week, waiting to see if the little caught vampire is gonna try anything; keeping her leashed in silver chains, some regular mechanic’s ones too, to one of the steel columns while the pack-elder fucks off to debate what to do with her. Ezra’s been looking into things themself — the usual rumours of vampires prodding into their territory, making sure it’s no-one who belongs to the Prince — because this one hasn’t been much in the way of forthcoming.

And in the two days they've left Tamsin in charge, she's got the bitch on a dog leash.

Ezra exhales, pulling at their septum ring and breathing the stress back in. “That’s the part you take issue with.” Not looking at Tamsin — but the vampire. The silent perfection with which she seems to not even notice Ezra is a screeching brake rotor in their head.

“Still only responds to what she wants to,” Tamsin uselessly informs them, flat-toned with a barely hidden smile that also says, but i’m what she wants.

And what does her owner want? The Prince, Ezra doesn’t say aloud.

“Why is she in your lap?” they manage to ask.

“I don’t know,” Tamsin says. “We were chattin’ and I felt bad about leaving her chained to the post.” She rolls her shoulders back, stretching, and pulls a massive, thrice-bitten arm up to ruffle at the vampire’s ruby-red hair. “She’s so warm after feeding.”

“You did what!?” Ezra shouts, their hands convulsing in an electric gesture of sheer-fucking-disbelief before managing to clamp them into fists on their temples. “Tam! If Lucerne comes back from the Eldermoot and sees this-leashed-bitch and that-shit-on-your-arm she’ll fucking kill us both!”

“I don’t know,” Tamsin offers in a smug-salted, doubtful smile, “seemed a whole lot less messy than feeding out of the bowl — and she’s been so good. Two taps when she needs me to pull her off, ‘cos she struggles to herself. Very polite.”

Just to annoy Ezra even worse, she gestures it out — Tap! Tap! — on her arm.

“You think she's imprinted on me?”

“So she’s a stray cat now?” Ezra says, knowing in an instant that Tam is going to—

“Ohh, she’s such a good kitten. Ain’t that right, Red?”

Not much more escapes the pile of leather and frizzy, red hair than low, pleased grumble and the soft scrape of blood-full cheeks rubbing into Tamsin’s half-dressed chest.

Ezra’s hands run from temple-sides down their cheeks, like a squished bagpipe dragging out the last few thimblefuls of air, “I guess. If it helps.”

They’re not able to think of what else could even keep ‘Red’ on her leash, nothing short of the brute-strength that seems futile on a now barely-restrained, blood-full vampire. Marde. She’s one of the Prince’s fledglings too.

But if it is, at this point, all about what ‘Red’ is choosing to do, maybe Ezra can—

“Can I— pet her?”

Tamsin’s eyes lock to her, face still for a few contemplate moments, and then— well, she kind of nod-shrugs.

It’s when Ezra has reached a wrench’s length away that ‘Red’ finally does ‘notice’ them, stirring from her wretched repose to swipe at them; Ezra has to stumble back, falling ass-backward onto the stacked-tire coffee table.

Nothing got scratched, but Ezra can definitely feel their ego bleeding; looking at Tamsin who should be pinning the bitch to the floor, snarling, fur sprouting from claw-to-delt, and is instead pissing herself laughing.

“Don’t think she’s imprinted on you,” she adds, and Ezra is sure the vicious fang-bitch is smiling herself. Probably didn’t scratch me ‘cos she didn’t need to — with Tam playing pet-mom to her. “Gotta let her feed on your first.”

“Oh-ho-ho! Ha! Ha-ha! No chance,” Ezra mutters, twisting their swiped-at wrist in the other hand to soothe the emotional agony of it. “Tam — what if she tries draining you and uses that strength to escape?” 

It’s a perfectly sensible question; one that should point out what a bad idea this is; one that not even Himbo Tamsin should be able to—

“Don’t want to,” interrupts ‘Red,’ boredom effusing into Tamsin’s tits.

“What?” Ezra asks.

…

“Ugh!” they squeal, throwing their arms up in the air. “Tamsin, can you ask her—”

Tamsin merely coos at the fucking beast, rubs one of its dumb cheeks and, “you like it when I keep you, don’t you kitty?”

“Mhmm,” she replies, like once-again Tamsin is the only other person in the room. Ridicule! 

But it crawls into them then, why doesn’t she want to.

“Also,” the vampire adds, as if listening to Ezra’s thoughts more than their words, “the Prince’s current truce is a lie. Doubtless I’m no longer his favourite too, if he’s not bothered to take me back from you guys.”

There’s a roll of Ezra’s eyes that hurts more than an unplanned, full-moon turning, “Oh my god! Then we’ve been hiding a worthless hostage this entire time.”

“I don’t know,” ‘Red’ tells them. “Seemed obvious to me.”

“And you never told us!” Ezra moans, glancing up to Tamsin who’s pathetically infatuated with the attention-whore clamped around her like a bench vice. “So what, nowhere to run now? We would’ve let you off leash at least. The silver one, not this shit.”

“Seems kinda hot to be honest,” ‘Red’ says, and Tamsin hums in satisfied, deferential agreement.

When Ezra stares her down she shrugs, “What? I was comfortable,” and seems to want to send a message back, “Scared a little, okay. And I’m patient. Wanted to see what happened, because again, if he wanted me, a truce — fake-or-not — wouldn’t stop him; and he knows I’m here, for sure.”

There’s a wince now, but she doesn’t stop, “I don’t feel him but— ugh, I’m sure he feels me. Even this far from his ivory tower. Wasn’t really my choice to be there y’know, or any of his ‘princesses.’”

Ezra wishes they were the one borrowing Tam’s jacket, just to hide in it.

Silver chains and a bowl. Next to a mattress you needed Tamsin to find a blanket for. What an asshole, a wonder she doesn’t listen.

Practical feels the best way forward, “So what now? You gonna tell us about some secret attack or plan or whatever it is?”

After a moment they realise, and look to— “Tamsin?”

Tamsin’s got a hand under the girl’s borrowed shirt; fingers nipping at the trim fat, forehead rocking into the top of her head. “You know this sounds awfully dangerous, kitten,” she chimes. “You don’t want the Prince to hurt me, do you? There’d be way less cuddles then.”

‘Red’ takes a moment to weigh the bargain.“Mmm, sure. But I want dinner first.”

---

(Masterpost)

[loth-creatures]

do tell about swordforbine :D

@mystical-salamander and @toxictrannyfreak also :)

So I've mentioned here and here that in Lothwolfwalkers, Ezra and Sabine's lightsaber gets blown up (rip 😔), which is set in stone for the storyline but there are two problems: 1 it makes me sad and 2 there was a later part of the story where Sabine needs it that I forgot about. So instead she acquires a Night Sister's sword (won in combat or stolen idk) and keeps it, though she might forge her own later on, with help from some of the sisters who don't trust Thrawn...I have a half-baked subplot about that that may or may not make it into the comics.

And now I'm just really excited about Sabine having a good old-fashioned steel sword :D

It can do magic stuff like Morgan's swords, but Sabine can't really use it. The Sisters are like. We could light that up for you if you want. And Sabine is like. I don't fuck with magic (is holding a grudge from getting posessed on Dathamir) and the Sisters are like 🤨 girl you literally turn into a giant wolf every night but ok.

[dcdreamblog]

So growing up I only knew Johnny Chambers as the Quickstart infomercial guy. Come to find out he did a whole documentary series on mystery men after the war. Have you had a chance to see any of those films?

I had to basically watch Chambers' entire filmography in college

(A promotional image produced for Quickstarts internal biography of Chambers. It is often pointed out for this image that Chambers famously refused to make use of his powers during film making as he felt he lost control of the edit's smaller details doing them at super speed)

While like you said Chambers is more well known now for his foundation of the Quickstart lifestyle and wellness brand, now run by his daughter Jesse, he started his career and was mostly known throughout his life as a documentarian. In fact it was his connections, formed from the creation of international newsreels for Warner Bros' "March of Time" series that originally lead him to befriending the eccentric mathematician Dr Ezra Gill who would discover the ancient formula that formed the secret of Johnny's power set. During the war and even for some time after it he never quite got rid of the filming bug, surrounded by such interesting people as he was. Chambers himself was most often responsible for the footage of the Squadron and other teams that would appear in newsreels during the war. His first solo outing would be a 15 minute reel titles "Inside Squadron Home Base!" released in early 1942 which was a tour of the Perisphere complete with some quick introductions to Chambers' core teammates (including an interview with Johnny Quick himself to obfuscate the fact that Chambers was the one filming). He would complete another half dozen Squadron focused newsreels during the war itself: -"The JBA is on the Move!" (1942), that covered the JSA's official absorption into the All Star Squadron and their very short lived renaming to the Justice Battalion

-"Workforce Heroines!" (1942), Starring Wonder Woman, Ms America and Hawkgirl explaining and advocating for women in vital war industries.

-"Our Young All Stars!" (1943) Explaining the formation of the Young All Stars and introducing them to the public at large. Rather infamously this reel was censored without Chambers' knowledge to cut out the interview of the team's Japanese American member Tsunami and even cropping her out of many background shots. -"Above Enemy Lines!" (1943), which focused on the work of the Blackhawks and Freedom Fighters to infiltrate and undermine Axis activity on active front lines.

-"The Mystery Man March!" (1944) Explaining, somewhat, the development of the American Mystery Man, drawing a broad philosophical line from the country's revolutionary heroes a la Tomahawk, through western heroes like Bat Lash and Pow Wow Smith to the modern Mystery Man. The historiography here is RIDDLED with holes but it was the first attempt to do something like what I do and so many details we know now were unknown -"American Mettle!" (1944), A piece lionizing American industry and manufacturing through the mouthpieces of Commander Steel and Robotman. It is almost comical how much Steel does ALL of the talking during this reel. One can only imagine poor, surly Robotman needed to be dragged to the set via forklift. This, of course, being on top of producing his actual workload of regular Newsreels through Warner Bros. Chambers made a vague attempt to enter the nascent television industry post war in various behind the camera capacities for the sake of supporting his then young daughter. It wasn't until much more recent times when he founded Quickstart where he became well known as a motivational speaker, former superhero, etc, etc, etc.

[kanerallels]

If You Could Read My Mind, Love, What A Tale My Thoughts Could Tell

My first contribution to @kaneraweek!! Shoutout to @singswan-springswan for helping me come up with this au

Taglist: @accidental-spice @day-to-day-thots @auroramagpie @opalknight @ana-cantskywalker @cassie-fanfics @nyxlotl (DM me if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)

Read on AO3!

Hera had known that blending in with humans would be difficult—and it was, for the most part. Avoiding iron, dancing around where societal conventions and the laws of the fae clashed, and just not knowing a lot of simple things combined to make life potentially awkward or painful.

But it was also…beautiful. Watching the lives of humans, who were so different from her people. Building her own life, such as it was. Running a business turned out to be simple in comparison to other issues she dealt with.

The coffee shop had been a longstanding cover for faeries in the area, and it had been more than one business over the years. Most recently, a restaurant, abandoned quickly when the faerie in question had completed their goal in the area. Hera, along with Zeb, her self appointed guardian who was far too paranoid about what all the humans were up to, had moved almost five years ago now. And to her surprise, they’d been able to make a profit.

Which was good, considering Hera had no idea when she was going to leave.

She’d had an original goal when she came here. Getting back the passkey she’d left behind when she’d come here seven years ago. It had taken her far too long to realize where she left it behind. Hera had always hated to be confined solely to the Other World. She simply wasn’t built to stay in one place forever, not when there was so much to see out there. So she’d developed a habit of slipping through the veil, visiting far off places and exploring a little. It was easy enough, with the passkey to guide her to nearby portals home and unlock them, if necessary.

But of course it was here. Lothal was an ancestral home for her people, to the degree that the passkey was barely necessary. And the night she’d come here to visit had been…eventful, to say the least.

That was the first and only time she’d ever been spotted by a human. Animals, sure. Even other faeries on occasion. But Hera had never been seen by a human, until Kanan Jarrus.

She hadn’t known his name at the time, of course, let alone anything about him. But now…she knew him. And he knew her, almost too well.

It would have scared her if it hadn’t thrilled her.

“Hera!”

Zeb’s gruff voice cut through her daydreaming, and Hera looked up from the counter she’d been wiping down. Nodding towards the door, the massive man—though technically, he wasn’t. Human, that is—said, “Customers on the way. Pretty sure it’s one of your favorites.”

“Thanks,” Hera said, ignoring his look of disdain. Zeb pretended not to like the humans, and for the most part, he didn’t. But Hera knew there were a few he had a soft spot for, whether he acknowledged it or not.

Ducking into the kitchen, she checked on the coffee—still fresh—and poured it into a to-go cup. After adding the cream, she started heating milk for hot chocolate. This took a little more maneuvering—the pot was made of steel, not straight iron, which helped. But she preferred to be careful when she could be. There was already a burn on her palm from her last brush with iron, and Hera really didn’t want more injuries than she could help.

The bell at the top of the door jingled cheerfully, and she heard familiar voices out front. Ezra was cheerfully heckling Zeb, as he usually did, and Zeb growled something unfriendly in response. And then there was Kanan’s voice, steady and deep, calmly mediating. Hera’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.

Don’t be silly, she scolded herself as she whisked the ingredients of the hot cocoa into the pot. He’s a customer, a friend at best—and most importantly, a human. Your heart shouldn’t be focusing on him.

Setting aside the whisk, she grabbed the to-go cup full of coffee and headed out front.

Kanan was sitting at the counter, watching Zeb and Ezra bickering. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, and a smile spread across his face. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Hera said, sliding him the cup, and his grin widened.

“How do you always know?”

“It wouldn’t be any fun if I gave away the secret,” she told him, leaning against the counter. “Ezra’s hot chocolate will be ready any minute.”

Shaking his head as he took a sip of his coffee, Kanan said, “One of these days you’re gonna have to tell me how you know we’re coming.”

“Magic,” Hera deadpanned, and he laughed.

“I almost believe that.”

That was the problem with Kanan. Hera never really knew if he did believe her when she made jokes that weren’t really jokes. He laughed at her jokes, those included. But there was always something that made her wonder, does he know?

He couldn’t. They’d met first seven years ago—a blink of an eye for her, but a long time for humans—and she’d looked nothing like she did not. There was no way he could know, and that was a good thing. The truth about who she was had to remain a secret.

“Hey, are you busy tonight?”

Kanan’s question snapped Hera out of her thoughts, and she looked up at him, surprise flashing through her. “What? Why?”

“I was thinking about how you seem to not know any of the best movies out there,” Kanan explained. “Figured we should fix that. Ezra’s going over to a friend’s house, so you could come over, we could try a few movies—popcorn and snacks guaranteed. What do you think?”

Oh. Hera hesitated, indecision tugging at her chest. “I…don’t know,” she said slowly. What if he finds out? Spending time in close quarters with a guy who may or may not actually know that she was a faerie seemed like a bad idea at the best of times. With Kanan…she couldn’t tell if the fluttering in her stomach was nervousness or excitement at the prospect.

“Hey, no pressure,” Kanan told her. “Just think about it and get back to me. In the meantime, what are the odds we can get some baked goods to go with that hot chocolate?”

The hot chocolate! “Absolutely,” Hera said, turning to head for the kitchen. “Just give me one minute.”

She ducked back into the kitchen, quickly checking the pot she’d left to heat up. Thankfully, she hadn’t been gone long enough for it to start boiling, but it was already heated to the perfect temperature. Carefully, Hera filled a to-go cup, added a few mini marshmallows and a dash of cinnamon, and headed back out of the kitchen.

Ezra had joined Kanan at this point, and his gaze lit up at the sight of her. “Hey, Hera!” he said, scrambling up onto a stool. “Can I have—”

“Hot cocoa, mini marshmallows, cinnamon?” Hera finished, handing him the cup. “Of course.”

Grinning, Ezra said, “You’re awesome, Hera. Thanks.”

“Agreed,” Kanan said, digging through his pockets for a minute before locating his wallet. “Add on a couple of chocolate croissants, and how much do we owe you?”

“About twenty bucks,” Hera said. Or…this is definitely a bad idea. But when has that ever stopped me? “I’ll give you a discount if there’s dinner with that movie tonight, though.”

Kanan’s gaze flashed up to her, and a slow, delighted grin crossed his face. “Sounds like a plan. Should I pick you up?”

Shaking her head, Hera said, “I know the way to your house, dear. What time?”

“Ezra should be leaving around five thirty, so…six?”

“Six sounds good,” Hera said as the bell over the door jingled. “I’ll see you then.”

Sliding her a twenty dollar bill, Kanan said, “See you then, Hera.”

She rang him up quickly, ignoring Zeb’s side eye as he helped the other customers. By the time they were finished, Kanan and Ezra were long gone.

However, that didn’t prevent Zeb from saying, “Tell me you’re not actually going on a date with that guy.”

Rolling her eyes, Hera said, “It’s not a date, Zeb. We’re just seeing a few movies and having dinner.”

“Right. Last I checked, that is the exact definition of a date,” Zeb pointed out. “Look—I like him well enough for a human, but it’s a bad idea.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing this isn’t a date,” Hera said, and promptly received a deeply skeptical look from him. “It’s not! We’re just friends, and that’s always been clear.”

Sure, he’d flirted a little when they first met, but Hera had made it very clear where they stood, and he’d respected that. Since then, their relationship had changed. Deepened into a real friendship.

Kanan was one of the people she cared about most, in this world or the Other. And truthfully, she was starting to think that she didn’t know what her life would look like without him.

But that didn’t mean this was a date. It didn’t. So Hera firmly put the idea out of her head, and kept working.

The rest of the day slipped by quickly enough, and before she knew it Hera was leaving the coffee shop in Zeb’s capable hands—they really did need to hire more employees, though where they’d find some who were willing to overlook the quirks of two fae pretending to be humans, she didn’t know—and slipping into the apartment she kept above it to change into something a little nicer.

Not date level nicer, obviously. Just a soft, dark blue sweater to keep out the autumnal chill, and clean pants. Pulling her hair out of the dual braids she wore for work, Hera wrapped it back with a green scarf and headed out of the door.

She walked, obviously. It was only a few miles to Kanan’s place from hers, and she didn’t have a car. Though there was a tiny, very un-faerieish part of her that wished she could drive one. The massive machines were fascinating to her, even if touching one could be incredibly painful. But she didn’t go enough places to even pretend to need one, and it was probably better in the long run.

Kanan was waiting for her on the front porch of his massive, slightly run down house when she got there. Hera still wasn’t quite sure what a human with one kid and a grandfather who only occasionally visited was doing with a three story dump like this, but she knew better than to question Kanan’s lack of logic at this point.

“I could have picked you up,” he said. “You wouldn’t have had to walk that far, and it’s getting cold out.”

Hera shook her head, heading up the steps of the porch. “I like walking. And it’s not that cold.” Which wasn’t exactly true—her hands were already ice cold, and she’d been able to see wisps of her breath here and there on the walk in.

Snorting, Kanan said, “Well, that’s a blatant lie. Come on, let’s get you something warm. I can make you coffee.”

Hera laughed. “I don’t actually think you know how to make coffee, dear.”

“Rude,” Kanan responded as they headed into the house. The interior was warmly lit and smelled like something savory and delicious, and Hera was already glad she’d suggested dinner. “How do you think I have coffee when I don’t show up at your shop?”

He led the way into the kitchen, which was painted bright yellow. Hera suspected it was a compromise from when Ezra had suggested orange, knowing the boy as she did. Luckily, it gave the whole place a warm, welcoming feel, and she couldn’t help but be fond of it. Bright colors appealed to the fae, even at their most elegant and refined.

“Are there times when you don’t come to the shop?” she asked Kanan, lifting a very skeptical eyebrow.

Grinning a little, Kanan admitted, “Not really.”

“I figured. Get out the coffee,” Hera commanded, heading for the coffee machine. She’d become pretty adept at working the various machines, and the one at Kanan’s place was as simple as they came. She worked on making the coffee as Kanan pulled the oven open. A wave of the same spicy, savory smell washed out and Hera nearly swooned.

“What is that?” she asked as Kanan examined the dish in the oven.”

“Birria,” Kanan responded, closing the oven. “And it should be ready soon. Seems like it turned out pretty well.”

Frowning, Hera said, “Didn’t you tell me that this takes a lot of prep? And it’s not exactly the kind of meal you’d make for one?”

“Possibly,” Kanan said with an expression that utterly failed to be innocent. “I might have made it with the hopes that you’d be here for dinner. And if you weren’t, you’d get leftovers eventually. Force knows someone needs to feed you—Zeb and the local takeout places can’t be solely responsible for you.”

Rolling her eyes as she pulled a mug out of the cupboard to her left, Hera said, “I’m going to choose to thank you for that instead of taking it as an insult.”

“I would never dream of insulting you, Hera,” Kanan said, accepting the mug of coffee Hera passed him. “Hey—what happened to your hand?”

“What?”

“Your hand,” Kanan repeated, setting his coffee aside and catching hold of her hand before Hera realized what he was doing. Turning it over, he traced a gentle finger over the raised burn on her palm, so light she barely felt it. Hera felt her stomach do a decidedly not unpleasant flip at the touch. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t try cooking again, did you?”

“Ha,” Hera deadpanned, trying to cover the relief she felt at the joke. It pushed aside a little of the way she felt, with his hand cradling hers and that concerned look in his eyes. Pulling her hand back, she said, “No, I just burned it working. Hazards of the trade.”

It wasn’t like she could tell him that it was from a cast iron pan she’d touched in a store. She hadn’t realized what it was until it was too late, and had barely managed to restrain her gasp of pain. There were salves that soothed iron burns, but fae healing magic didn’t affect that kind of injury. Hera would just have to wait for it to heal like any human.

She couldn’t tell if Kanan believed her excuse or not, so she quickly changed the subject. “Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?”

That brought a grin to Kanan’s face. “Not a chance. You already made coffee—drink some of that and tell me about your day, and that’s enough for me.”

“Not exactly very helpful,” Hera said, taking a seat at the kitchen table anyways and curling her hands around her mug, enjoying the warmth seeping into her fingers. Though it wasn’t much of a replacement for Kanan’s hand around hers.

Enough, she scolded herself, pushing the thought away.

“It’s helpful to me,” Kanan assured her, leaning against the counter. “And it’s mostly a waiting game at this point.”

“Fair enough.” Gathering her thoughts, Hera began to recount some of the events of the day, telling Kanan about the customers who’d stopped in. Most of them had been there a thousand times, but in a small town like Lothal, there was always something new and occasionally crazy going on.

Kanan was a good listener—he asked the right questions, laughed at the right parts. Hera always found herself relaxing in his presence, sharing things she wouldn’t share with anyone else.

It was dangerous. But she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from it.

Dinner was ready in short order, and they feasted on the incredible dish. Kanan’s cooking was always fabulous, and this was no exception. Hera relished every savory, spice-rich bite, and didn’t hesitate to have seconds.

When they’d finished, and she’d helped him tidy up in the kitchen, despite his protests, they headed into the living room, where Hera settled on the couch while Kanan flipped through the DVD collection. “Let’s see,” he mused aloud. “You’ve seen The Princess Bride?”

“Thanks to your never ending rants about it,” Hera said wryly. When she’d first met Kanan, it had become obvious that she had some serious gaps in her knowledge about human life, and she’d done a lot of research. Most of it in the form of watching some of the many movies he’d been horrified to learn she hadn’t seen, and a few extras. 

There were still plenty she hadn’t seen, however, and it wasn’t long before Kanan found one. “Really?” he said, popping in the dish and heading over to drop onto the couch next to her. “You’ve never seen The Mummy?”

“Are we really going to have this conversation again?” Hera returned, and Kanan laughed.

“Fair point.”

They settled in to enjoy the movie, and Hera did, to her surprise. Though she shouldn’t have been—Kanan had good taste, for the most part.  Watching them with him was a new experience, but she liked being able to argue about plot points and joke about parts of the movie with him.

When the first film ended, Kanan put in the sequel—undeniably poorer writing, but equally fun—and made them popcorn. It was late when they finished it, but Kanan managed to convince Hera to start some natural disaster movie that he insisted was a classic.

Classic and fun it may have been, but Hera felt her eyes sliding shut only a little ways in. She jerked awake, suddenly and painfully aware that she’d fallen asleep for a little while.

Lifting a hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she registered the weight of something heavy and warm against her shoulder. Glancing to the side, Hera’s eyes widened a little at the sight of Kanan, fast asleep.

It was strange to see him this way. Usually he was so self possessed and confident, upbeat and snarky. Seeing him asleep, hair slipping free of its usual tie, felt…vulnerable.

Almost without knowing why, Hera reached forward and brushed a loose lock of his hair out of his face. Her fingers stilled, tracing along his cheekbone as she studied him, heart beating fast without any real reason.

And then she saw the cord around his neck. The necklace he always wore, keeping it tucked under his shirt. She’d never asked, and he’d never brought it up. But now, slumped to the side like he was, it had slipped out.

It was the passkey.

The blue crystal shimmered even in the dim light, and Hera stared, shocked. She’d suspected, of course, but…He had it all this time?

Why?

It couldn’t be because…no. There was no way.

She lifted her hand, reaching out to touch the passkey. She could take it now and leave, before he even knew what had happened.

Instead, Hera tucked it back out of sight, closed her eyes, and let her head rest against his. When he finally moved again, waking at a loud sound from the TV, she was fast asleep. She didn’t even feel him tuck a blanket around her and settle in to finish the movie, arm resting around her for just a second too long to be anything resembling casual.

No, Hera simply slept, and dreamed, and she would wake the next morning at peace for reasons she couldn’t even fully explain yet.