#knowing full well that many of those features now carved in stone didnt have to be there

[janederscore]

*voice of the complainer* not to be that bitch but its exceptionally hard not to feel alienated constantly by internet-centric trans culture, in particular bc the loudest voices in the room typically have the easiest access to life-changing medical care. like i dunno its just all pretty bleak and depressing when you're getting close to the two decade mark of being out and only having been able to scrape together hrt for a couple of short periods ever

[laughableillusions]

Moving Back Home

AN: Oh boy it’s the first mini-fic of Lindir & Farkas that you all haven’t been asking for but I’m giving to you anyway! I pasted this from my notes (in all its raw unedited glory) so if it’s wonky dw about it...

I hope to write more of these 2 in the future if you all enjoy it!

(I encourage you to read this while listening to Lady of the Moon by 2002)

———————————

The night had already settled in, and both Lindir and Farkas had snuggled themselves into their bedrolls. Lindir decided to go without the tent that night, as it was a clear night and neither he nor Farkas could smell rain coming. The opportunity to gaze at the stars calmed the elf, his mind could jump between the small twinkling lights and his eyes slide across the Aurora borealis. He loved Skyrim, he really did. He loved the cold shivering weather, the crunch of snow under his boots, the large trees and delicate flowers. There was something so comforting about it, something he didn’t really see until now.

Back in Summerset it was hard to get such a view of stars as this, the cities were large and full of light. And the heat kept anyone from even thinking about making a campfire, cold weather was rare and treasured. But even then, his friends preferred the heat. Or at least they did...it was still hard to grasp that they were no longer alive. Lindir hadn’t been there, it was hard to really accept a death when you were never there to witness it.

He sighed, it was no good to dwell on the dead. Besides, it was years ago...he had almost forgotten about Summerset Isles. Something in him bloomed in Skyrim, maybe it was his mixed blood. He perhaps was more Nordic than he believed, but he found himself thriving in cold weather. The shivering cold mornings kept his mind alert. The warm blankets and furs he slept in meant something more to him than a decoration, it was to keep him alive. He remembered being a child and begging Aradnae to buy him a bear pelt from a merchant. She refused of course, he was still small and had no use of it at the time. But the interest of an outsider, he didn’t quite understand why they wore the pelts or what they were used for. Now, ruled under a thick layer of one...he very well could.

And Farkas, his beloved Farkas...just the thought of him put the grief out of his mind. He was warm, he was soft and he loved him perhaps more than Lindir could understand. He remembered reading something in a book long ago about love like this, how one could simply hide their face in a lovers chest and shun the world entirely away. If he could...if he could, Lindir would without hesitation. Every time they parted it felt like they weren’t together long enough, sometimes almost unbearably so. But he must...he had to, or else all of Tamriel would fall into ruin, the world would be consumed and there wouldn’t be anymore stars for them to gaze at.

Lindir turned to his side, there he could see the outline of his beloved’s face. There was something so powerful about this bond...it felt bigger than him, bigger than both of them. He had never felt love this strong before, never had such unrelenting feelings of utter devotion and adoration for anyone. It scared him sometimes, it scared him that he would away from the world if it meant to stay beside him.

“I would stand at his back, so that world would never overtake us...”

Never overtake us...

Even after a year and a half of marriage, he was still blushing at that. even though his face was stained with tears and mud, and Farkas practically limped the way back. Those words never left him, they were etched on the stone of his soul. Like the carvings of old Dovah, it was alive...it was pulsing. The memory of that cold night in the courtyard of Jorrvaskyr, it softened him.

“Darling?” Lindir asked softly, scooting himself closer to the Nord.

“Hm?” Farkas half-groaned. He was obviously dozing off.

“I love you...a lot...” Lindir whispered sheepishly.

Farkas now reanimated, and he turned his face to him. His features were still shrouded in the darkness, and he strained to try and look at them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Lindir shook his head and sighed.

“Nothing, I’m just feeling sentimental again.”

Farkas scooted closer, now rolling over to face him. Lindir blushed a little by his interest, and he smiled.

“I just...I don’t know, I really love it here.” He said. “It’s all so much better than Summerset, I feel more at home here than anywhere else...”

He then wriggled himself closer to Farkas, trying to get as close to him as possible whilst keeping snug in his little bedroll.

“I know what you mean...” Farkas answered. His voice was raggedy with drowsiness.

“Well I mean, of course you do. You’re a full blood Nord and Skyrim has been your home for generations-“

Lindir cut himself off and shook his head again.

“I-I didnt mean it like that...”

Farkas hummed a little in response.

“It’s just...I was always looked down upon for my Nordic blood. Nords were seen as barbaric and primitive, but coming here to their homeland I felt...I don’t know, safe?”

“Skyrim is in your blood, and not just the people, but the Land as well.” Farkas said.

Lindir felt tears collect in his eyes. He had always felt out of place in Summerset, he always felt like he had to hide himself unless he was performing. He was regarded as a freak, a “halfbreed” as he was sometimes called. In Skyrim however, the Nords would praise his Nordic blood. Said it made him strong and resilient, they lived life they way he wanted to live it. They were impatient and passionate about things. They lived like they would die the next day, and some of them did. But there was kindness, there was love and happiness. Even as harsh as life was it was still beautiful, Skyrim was more than just Land, more than just the people that lived there. It was home...it was belonging.

No wonder people fought so hard for it.

Lindir sniffled.

“Yeah it is...I-I do belong here don’t I?”

Farkas perked up his distress, his arms now wrapping around the elf.

“Yes, yes you do.”

Lindir nestled his head against Farkas’s chest. His voice beginning to shake.

“Thank you...” He almost whispered.

Farkas huffed.

“Now you have to tell me what’s wrong, I don’t want you messing up my only clean shirt.”

Lindir chuckled a bit and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Ok ok I will, you big oaf.”

Farkas squeezed him a bit in retort. Lindir squirming as he was shoved against him. He let go a bit, letting Lindir have space to talk.

“I just, I never had a proper home before...no place to go back to, no real place. Home was always people, family, but I’ve been through group after group and person after person and well...I never felt like I really belonged.”

Lindir then paused, his cheeks going pink.

“I mean, except with you of course...”

He could feel the blush on the nord when he said it.

“A-and because of that The Companions...I-I mean your family sort of became my family in a sense...”

Lindir felt vulnerable, silly and flustered. It was stupid and he knew it, latching onto someone else’s family because they’re married to them...it felt predatory. But he couldn’t help how much he loved all of them, even when Vilkas was being a smart -ass or Aela being rude. After he married Farkas the responsibility of Harbinger sat heavily on his shoulders, he was responsible for all of them and he did not take that lightly.

Farkas was silent for a moment, he was thinking of a response. Poor man wasn’t very good when it came to words, Lindir didn’t mind it, many times Farkas’s presence was enough to put him at ease. But when Lindir needed counsel, Farkas always tried, and that too was enough.

“They’re not just my family Lindir, you became a part of it when you joined, and you’re still a part of it now, they all love you too. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done.”

“You really think so?” Lindir asked cautiously.

“Yeah...” Farkas was soft but confident in his answer.

Lindir smiled quietly, Farkas never lied. There was something so finalizing about his answer that quelled any suspicion in Lindir. He had done so many things, and was still doing them now. From the Thieves Guild to The Dark Brotherhood now. Not Farkas or the Companions ever wavered in their loyalty and support toward him. Even Kodlak, who he known only a short time accepted him as one of his own.

“Hey Farkas?” Lindir now asked.

“Hm?”

Lindir hesitated for a second.

“I-I want to move back to Jorrvaskyr...”

Farkas pet his hair.

“Mhm...”

The Nord was dozing off again, Lindir could tell. He was as well, all that thinking and talking finally exhausted him enough to sleep. That was alright though, they could talk more about it in the morning.

Lindir snuggled himself against his husband, his home and dozed off to his quiet breathing.

[hughiecampbelle]

Sheyn Punim (Alfie Solomons Oneshot)

((PEAKY BLINDERS SEASON 4/5 SPOILERS))

Character/s: Alfie, Ollie mention

Word Count: 1,405

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomrecs @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan @captivatedbycillianmurphy @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby @riana-jannat

A/N: Just some fluff 💕 Well, as close as I can get :P I'm not the best at writing sappy things, and I'm a sucker for a dark metaphor, but I've had this idea for a while :) Still a lil nervous. Fluff is hard, but I'm givin it a try anyways!!! I've only ever spoken these words in Yiddish, never written them, and I know how Google can be with translations, so I might've made a few mistakes!!! Anyways, I hope you like it loves! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @bennskywalker :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Hand sculpted, you were sure. Come together by the minds of a thousand artists, careful not to smear or smudge, cautious to muddy, to rid the world of all his perfect imperfections. The harsh lines drawn across his forehead, the deeply carved creases of his eyes, a tight lipped smile shaded. To the untrained eye this would have been off-putting, jarring, even severe. These features would have been unlikable, an afterthought in comparison to others, but that's what they wanted, what they needed. To be undermined, overlooked. It wasn't cutting in the way that captured the attention of younger eyes. A jaw as sharp as blade, eyes piercing, the pointed tip of a pencil resting in confident hands. It wasn't soft in a sweet, endearing kind of way. Naive and freckled, lulled by oil paints, by grand brush strokes and a starry-eyed sense of wonder. He was another medium, another material, the kind that went unloved and underappreciated if you didnt look close enough, if you didn't appreciate the right features. You might have missed it yourself if you hang taken a closer look. Too many passed by without a second thought.

That's all he ever needed, though.

Sheyn punim. His beautiful face cupped in your hands, in need of a soft touch. His skin worn, aged with experience, the way paper yellows and crumbles if it's not preserved. Tracing his cheek, tapping his nose, kissing his forehead. Waking him when the sun rays fail to, when the bags under his eyes wain, growing hollow. Urging him to bed, to rest, but always insistent on spending time with you. You only had so much. Face to face. Somehow you always ended up here. An arm lazily dropped across your waist, the blankets and sheets twisted around your bodies after a restless night. This was your favorite version of him. The clay of him malleable, clumsy even, not yet hardened by the day ahead. The side of his face squashed by his pillow, a small snore mumbling through him. It would have been laughable, really. A man who emptied the streets before him, who could have made men bow to their feet and kiss his shoe as if he were God himself, sleeping like a baby, so full of coos.

Matók. Sweet. Your sweetness. You weren't sure how it happened, how he became yours, and you his. When you started belonging to one another only that you were hand in hand, never straying too far from one another. Mindlessly playing with his rings, trying them on for yourself. He'd get you a ring of your own one day. Big and clunky, like his own, like the one you'd taken, refusing to take off. Not the prettiest, but, then again, neither was he. An eye for the odd, the obscure, finding beauty where others turned away. Falling for the scraggly alley cats, plucking weeds in place of flowers, joyous when the fog fell across the soil and not a soul could be seen. Mukhl. Forgiving. Forgiving with your love, giving it up absentmindedly. Forgiving with him, his actions, all the terrible things he was capable of. He wasn't a piece of art, but a weapon of mass destruction. He wouldn't have to lift a finger to take a life, and yet, in your arms, he was anything but.

Sheyn balibt. Beautiful beloved. To be reminded of love, as foreign to him as a godless man. To be feared was to be expected, anticipated even. But loved? That he wasn't ready for. And yet, he couldn't picture his life without it, without you. Washing the blood from his hands, the worry from his bones, all of it slipping off the same way his coat did, hanging it where it could never touch you. An abundance of kisses in the doorway, excitement dripping from your words, grabbing him as if he may slip and fall. Talk of your day, he wanted to hear of every second. You made the most mundane infectious. Able to relax, to sink into the cushions with you, his day sugar coated, lightened where it needed to be. He never wanted you to worry. Meyn lebn. My life. Yours. His. It wasn't his actions that affected him anymore. Every decision he made, it had to be an act of protection, all of his proclamation of love to you.

Even if it meant hurting himself.

Narish. Foolish, the both of you. Thinking you could live in a bubble. Shut the world out until it was just the two of you. It didn't work like that, not in his business, not in this kind of world. You felt it before you knew, before Ollie came to you, hat in hand. An instinct, a pain without cause. It had to be him. It always was. Not a lie, but a half truth. Softening reality for the sake of a smile. You'd always known though. Hidden in his office where none could see, none could touch, the door thin, the walls begging for word to get out, to be free. Hearing too much, more than you ever asked for. Your Alfie, believing himself a statue, a keeper of secrets, stone faced, forgetting how effortlessly you could read him. Narish mentsch. Foolish man. You wished he wasn't so foolish, so stubborn, that he could be as vulnerable as he was in those sunrise moments.

Refusing to see you. Lebedik. Alive. You couldn't believe it. Your love alive, but refusing to see you, as if he were already dead. . . Hidden away for reasons you'd never understand, ones a letter would never do justice. Back and forth, your angr, your fear, bleeding into the page. Ollie could say nothing, ordered to keep his whereabouts to himself. Tried to follow, a few times out of desperation, but he was good at his job. You lost him instantly. Every time after that, he always promised, at the bottom of the page, it wouldn't be forever. Egoistish. Selfish. Selfish, vain, childish reasons. A bullet in that sheyn punim, in his beautiful face, that was no longer beautiful. You weren't sure how long it would last. Neither was he. The healing process took longer than either of you wanted. Once inseparable, now you were world's apart. You didn't blame him. Alfie had his reasons for everything, you understood. You just missed him. You missed holding him, being held, looking into his eyes and knowing everything would be okay no matter how uncertain life felt.

Bahaltn. Hidden. He needed to see you, to hear your voice, his cool exterior finally cracking, crumbling. Weeks, months, a lifetime, it felt without you. But he couldn't be seen. He couldn't bear the thought of you turning away from him, disgusted by the man before you. So, he stayed in the dark. The curtains drawn, lights off, safe in shadows. Ollie refused to tell you where you were going or why, only that you needed to come with him. You heard him before you saw him, as you often had in the past, swearing up a storm at nothing in particular. Nostalgic for him, his voice, hating that you were becoming so used to sleeping alone, that you were forgetting all the littlest ways in which he brightened your day. Pushing through the door, into the dark, waiting for you.

Brushing your hand through his hair, fussing the same way that always annoyed him, a last resort to get him out of bed. Still asleep, but stirring, taking your hand in his, pressing it to his chest. Thankful for that heartbeat every day. Getting closer to him, your noses almost touching, catching him open his eyes, sneaking a quick glance at you, pretending all along. You never wanted him to be in the dark like that again, to hide out of shame. Balibt. Favorite. Your favorite person, your favorite smile, your favorite face. The hardened scar tissue growing, settled, streaked across his cheek and forehead. The result of living through what no one was expected to. You didn't see what he did, what he examined in the mirror when he was self conscious, what he tried to avoid looking at in reflective surfaces. There was nothing wrong with it, though. You loved him just the same. No matter what he looked like, he would always be beautiful to you. He would always be yours, and you his. Ale mol.

[ancanosaur]

•Without a shadow of a doubt•

Chapter one: A Temple of Memories.

The temple was building of old creaks and sounds that echoed through the halls in the night. Despite their past reputation and the swollowing cold that surrounded their temple, the Lin Kuei had welcomed you with great open arms and the warmth of family.

You don't remember much of what happened. You remember the roaring engine and slashing blades of a helicopter. The wind was warm on your cheeks, the sky giving off a golden glow of orange that signaled dayligh'ts final hours. Your body ached, temples were throbbing. "We're in the clear General, mission accomplished." A woman's voice spoke over you, your (E/C) orbs searched up, finding a blonde looking down at you. "Don't worry, we got you." She smiled softly. Her eyes were an ocean blue and filled with hope. "Cassie." A man's voice was heard, making the blonde look up at an older man, his hair a light brown with a bit of salt and pepper in the sides. "Let's get them hooked up." He said.

You suddenly felt your body lift from the ground and onto what felt like a hospital bed, your finger tips finding soft thin sheets as the buckles around your waist were tightened, a soft prick in your arm made you give a gasp of weak air, looking over to see the man placing an IV needle in your arm and sticking a bit of tape over it, keeping it in place. "Sorry kid, gotta keep you alive and hydrated." He patted your shoulder, giving a smile. "It's good to have you back." He said finally. "Let's head out, Jacquie!" Cassie called to the front of the copter.

That's all you could remember. Besides landing at base and being greeted by many smiling faces. The ones that rescued you saying that they were close friends and teammates of yours. You thought back to their happy faces, sitting around you in the hospital room. They all said that you were all close, the best of friends, and yet you couldn't think of their names. Their features all gained a veil of grief as you shook your head at them. The older man spoke up as the youngers went qiuet. "That's okay Y/N." He gave a smile. "You just get a chance to get to know us all over again." It gave the others a bit of hope.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You sat up from your spot on the bed and quickly made your way over to slide open the door seeing a young woman's face. "Frost." You gave a smile. She returned it in more of a small smirk. "I brought you dinner." The snowy haired girl spoke, holding up a trey of steaming food. You gave her a gracious smile, taking the trey from her and allowing her in as you sat the trey down on the dark wood of your night stand. "So when are you going to get back to helping me with the kiddies?" She said, her bare feet making icey patches on the stone floor. "You're bothered." You meet her cool blue eyes as you sat on the bed. Frost looked at you for a moment before letting out a chilling sigh, the air from her lungs thick and smokey as she took a seat beside you. "Grandmaster send me, wanting to know are you're doing and everything," Her posture was hung low, her arms crossed over her knees. "See if you remember anything."

The food on your night stand still smoked with freshness as you eyed it. You looked back at Frost, trying to find the words. You wanted to be truthful. But another part of you simply wanted to tell her the things she and the Grandmaster wanted to hear. "You don't eat as much as you should." She commented, seeing you just looking at the plate of meat and vegetables seeming unbothered.

"I just feel like i dont need it." You answered after a moment, moving your gaze to the cold tile floors. "Well, you do." The Cryomancer said in a caring yet slightly forceful way, something that was just part of Frost's charm. She see's your jaw clenched for just a moment. "It would hurt a lot of people's feelings if you starved to death." She nudge you, making you gain a low smile for just a moment.

You wish you could remember being apart of the clan and the your team, you wish you jad those memories. But you simply didnt. "Ill feed you if you dont eat." Frost finally said. That made you shake your head and give in with a smile. "Alright, alright." You pulled the trey into your lap, picking up the spoon and stirring around the small bowl of stew that was on the side before taking a bite. "There, now we can keep you." She gave a smile.

You finished your plate and sat it to the side. You and Frost had began talking about the temple gossip that you had apparently missed. Like that one of the guards, Tao had the hots for a Shiria Ryu memeber that always came with Master Hasashi for sparring training, she said his name was Atomu and that you should ask Takeda about him once you join back up with your SF team.

"Frost?" You ask after a moment of silence between the two of you. "Hm?" She looked up at you. "What..." you puased, unsure of how to really word the question. "What happened to me?" You looked at her, metting her gaze.

Frost's shoulders tighted up for a moment before loosening g up again. Her crystal eyes looking to the grey brick of the floor for a moment like she was hoping the carving in the tile would answer for her.

"You died."

She finally answered, and you felt dizzy for a moment. "I-i what?" You looked at her, "Frost, i couldnt have. Im right-" "here. You're here now." She looked at you firmly. "And thats all that matters." She let out an irritated huff but her sharp features began to soften as she looked back at you.

You just sat there, looking at the ground. Chewing on your lips like gum. "How?" You finally asked, not meeting her eyes. "You," she looked down at her hands, picking at her nails, a nervous habbit of hers. "Were with your team, everything was going smoothly and then an ambush happened." She sighed. "You took a knife and...that was that." She said abruptly, not wanting to talking about the details.

Your fingers were clutched tightly into the bed below you, the world feeling like it was spinning around you, until a hand found your shoulder. "But we got you back." Frost said, her grip firm on you. "That's all we wanted."

Time passed and Frost had left you for the night. The wool blankets wrapped around keeping you warm as you begin to drift to sleep, the candle at your bedside still burning.

Everything was nothing but pitch black around you, your body was just a drift in nothingness, it was warm nor cold. Just nothing until a pair of large hands found their way to gripp your arms, seeming to hold you in place in this endless darkness. You're eyes were open, but they saw nothing in this dark place as the hands traveled up, sliding against your skin and up to hold your face. "A lost little spirit..." the voice was deep, yet it echoed like the hissings of snakes. You felt fingers run through your hair and tilt your face to the side. "I'll take you in..." the voice whispered.

You sat up in your bed, letting out a gasp as if you had been under water. Your hand found your heaving chest, your heart desperately trying to escape your ribcage as it pounded against your sternum.

You looked around your small dark room, recognizing it as yours, aiding you in calming from your dream. You let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes for just a moment before the smell of smoke caught your attention.

The candle that was one lit was now out and it was still smoking as if it had just been blown out. You eyed it for a moment, until you were able to tell yourself that your sudden movment from waking up had blown the candle out. You shook your head. It was just a dream, a weird dream that had left you with this chill of familiarity. But a dream nonetheless.

You sank back down in your bed, until you felt something cold on the side of your face, making you feel for whatever it was against your skin. You lifted you hand up into the moon light to see somthing dark on your fingertips making you jump and rush over into the bathroom, flipping the switch on, thinking you were going to see the crimson red of blood once you looked in the mirror. But what you saw made you shiver. A Jet black hand print was perfectly framed against your jawline, the thumb was smeared as it had been rubbing against your cheek.

You didnt know what to think or do, so you simply grabbed a wash cloth, turning the water on in the sink and soaking the cloth til it was dripping and looked back up into the mirror to wash the hand print away only to see it already disappeared.

You dropped the cloth into the water, backing up into the wall giving a shaking sigh with your hands to your head. Maybe you were losing it? Maybe you were slowly dying again. Maybe- you took a deep breath. Remembering what Grandmaster had taught you, 'In a time of storm, find a shelter. In the time of doubt find hope.' You took a few deep breaths. 'In a time of panic, find peace.' You gained control of your breathing, calming your racing heart. Being thankful for your master's words.

Then a thought popped into your mind. If there was anyone to talk to about this, anyone who would have knowledge about life after death, it's him.

You flipped the light switch off, casting the room back into darkness once more as you made your way back under your sheets. It was decided then. You would speak to him first thing in the morning.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I hope you guys like the first chapter. I wanted this to be kind of a Slowish kind of burn maybe. We'll see. We get to talk to Subby in the next chapter so that should be fun :) and like let me know if you want a smut chapter because lmao idk tell me

Ill also start working on other characters i wanna write for becuase theres a big lack in MK reader inserts my doods. I feel like this chapter is a bit rough, but i havent written a full length fic like this in a hot minutes. So hopefully it'll get better. And all fics i write and will write are gender neutral reader becuase like all genders have the right to fuck hot shadow wraiths and that's just tea☕

Please forgive any grammar/spelling mistakes!

-Onyx♤