#i remembered to post this because i've been working on patches for the front and there's A Story there

[fractangle]

Meme jacket progress that I completely forgot to post like a month ago:

The Goncharov poster patch is cut out of a t-shirt from @beelzeebub's redbubble, and all the rest are either linocuts I did (top/bottom text, and the shoelaces) or freehand with various levels of planning (most-to-least planned: man door hand hook car door, down with cis bus, "do you like them" text, effervescent snail (yes I'm aware the spiral's backwards)).

As of yet, there are no patches on the front or sleeves, but this will change (ominous).

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform Part 7 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hi there! Thank you all for taking the time to read this little story. I love reading all your sweet comments! They make my day! I'm so sorry about the huge delay. I've been at uni which has sapped my entire soul and ability to have hobbies. This is the next part so I hope you all enjoy reading it. I'll try and post the next part in the next few days! Also I've tried to tag everyone who wanted to be tagged but I might have missed someone so just let me know! :)

Warnings: Bit of blood but nothing too crazy and some light smut

Part 7

(y/n) had been right; the winter was harsh. The wind was unforgiving. It cut her cheeks on her walks to work, and it froze her nose and made her bones ache when she was in bed. There were snow flurries that made her shiver and freezing rain that chilled her permanently; that not even a hot bath could solve.

In the dead of winter, her mother died. (y/n) got the call at work. She took two days off. One to organize the funeral and the other to attend it. Her mother had no friends, no remaining family. (y/n) buried her out in the marshlands alone and then it was over and done with. She felt nothing and she was ashamed. (y/n) remembered when she was younger how kind her mother was, but she had changed. The war had twisted her. The fear she had felt for both her kids had altered her. In the end, she wasn’t the same person. (y/n) didn’t even cry; instead, she went back to work.

She had handed off the Thursday deliveries to Evelyn, she was ecstatic. (y/n) had been worried that there would be some backlash, that Thomas would storm into the building and demand that she do her job, but it never came. She didn’t write anymore horse related articles. When Mr. Beavers asked about them, she just said that she assumed Mr. Shelby would contact them if he wanted anymore. But he never did.

In fact, she didn’t see him for weeks. And she was glad; she needed the distance. But there was also a part of her that was disappointed, and she hated that. She wished she was stronger, that she could just move on. But she was weak; she wanted somebody who wanted her. She wanted somebody to hold her and kiss her. But the truth was not just somebody…she was very weak because she wanted him, Thomas.

The knock came in the dead of night. It was a particularly cold one and (y/n) had carefully cocooned herself in several blankets. It took her a full five minutes to untangle herself. She wrapped her nightgown around herself and carefully walked down the hall to her front door. Her bare feet beginning to ache from the chilled wooden floors. Another knock against the door.

“Who is it?” She called out.

“Me.” And she knew who it was. She moved forward and opened the door a crack. He was leaning heavily against the door frame. His hair was skewed and something black was dripping down the side of his face.

“Is that blood?”

“Are you going to let me in, then?” But he was already pushing her aside.

“Here, sit here. Let me get something for the cut.” She pushed him into one of the kitchen chairs and ran to the bathroom for her bandages. When she came back, he was already beginning to unbutton his shirt. His jacket was discarded on one of the chairs. It looked as if he had foregone his vest for the day. (y/n) bustled over and took over unbuttoning the rest and pulling the shirt to the side to see a cut on the left of his rib cage.

She leaned forward to have a better look, “This isn’t that deep so no stitches.”

(y/n) disinfected it, ignoring the slight hiss from Thomas. Then she cleaned and patched it up. She grabbed a rag and cleaned off the blood from the rest of his torso. And she ignored the rippling muscles beneath his milky skin. Her eyes dutifully avoiding the tattoo above his heart and the smattering of hair at the base of his throat because those weren’t for her.

“You were a nurse.” His rough voice pulled (y/n) from her focus.

She didn’t respond and instead had a look at the cut on the side of his temple.

“During the war.” He continued, his voice rumbled through her empty flat, filled the gaping corners.

She replied with disinfectant and felt gratified when he jerked in the chair.

“Are you asking or telling?” She finally spoke after she finished rubbing away the blood from the side of his face.

When she looked into his eyes, she found them ready for her, welcoming her own.

“Askin’.”

“I was but I guess Mrs. Chestisen already told you.” The name soured (y/n)’s mouth and brought back the humiliation of the balcony, the anger she felt in front of the hotel.

Thomas swallowed and averted his gaze to something behind her. She carefully placed a small bandage over his cut.

“Finished.” She gathered up the supplies, but he took her wrist, turned her back to him so she was forced to look down at him and she did see the guilt, she could see the regret written in his eyes.

“(y/n), let me explain.” She pulled her arm out of his hand and turned away to put away the extra bandages leaving him in the kitchen. When she came back, he was standing, leaning against the counter, shirt open, hair tousled, and looking drained. She leaned against the opposite counter and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling both cold and exposed in her dressing gown. Thomas looked up at her as she came in and they both stood there in silence, watching each other. The loneliness of her flat pushed in on them.

“Why did you come here?” (y/n) asked when she realized Thomas wasn’t going to break. He was too stubborn.

He sighed, his chest caving in visibly now with his shirt open and he dropped his head.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.” He hissed at her, eyes alight and pinning her against the counter with their force.

He shook his head and carded a finger through his hair, “I was bleedin’ out. I was bleedin’, and I looked down at my chest and saw the blackness of it. I came here. I just came here.”

He threw his hands up in frustration, showing more emotion than she had ever seen from him, “And I though’ of you.” He swallowed, “I though’ of you, is all.” He whispered, eyes falling away to find some purchase on the kitchen table.

(y/n) was at a loss for what to do. She didn’t understand him. There was a part of her that was still frozen over from the incident at the party but another part of her was beginning to thaw. She wanted an explanation for that night because a small corner in her mind wanted to believe that it was a misunderstanding. That Thomas wouldn’t have done something like that, not to her.

“Explain to me,” And he turned to look at her as she spoke, jaw clenching, eyes shimmering under the dull kitchen light, “what happened that night.”

Thomas swallowed and swiped a hand over his eyes, “I knew Mrs. Chestisen might have known of you. She mentioned her son before. Your brother came up and I made the connection, same last name. I didn’t know she blamed you for what happened. I thought that you might have been happy to see her because…she might have known something about your brother.” His chest tightened as he let out another breath.

“I didn’t know that she would react like that. I didn’t know, (y/n).”  He tapered off.

(y/n) rubbed up and down her arms trying to bring some warmth to herself, “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright, I believe you.”

Thomas exhaled and (y/n) subtly watched his abdomen contract, how the firm muscles rippled. He was distracting. She wished he would button up the shirt.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It wasn’t much of a surprise; she had been sick for a while.”

“Will you leave?” His eyebrows raised in question, his hands gripping the counter behind him.

“Leave?”

“Small Heath.”

(y/n) tugged her robe tighter around her, “Should I?”

And there was an unspoken question there. Should she bother staying for him. But she needed some kind of sign, a signal, or a hint that she wasn’t just delusional. That there was something meaningful between them.

“Where would you go?” His voice deep from emotion.

(y/n) shrugged and walked forward slightly to tidy up her kitchen table. She collected a few stray oranges and piled them all into the fruit bowl. With her movements her gown came slightly undone revealing a brief glimpse of her soft night dress, but she quickly covered herself up and glanced over at Thomas but from the darkness that slipped into his eyes he must have seen something of her nightwear. And whatever he saw, it drew him forward. The back of her thighs hit the wooden table as he neared her.

“Anywhere.” She whispered out between them. He reached forward to tug at her dressing gown, and it slipped open more fully, and his eyes swallowed her figure. Her night dress was a warm cream, but it did nothing to hide the shape, the gesture, the detail of herself and Thomas seemed to be appreciating that, deeply.

“I could go to London.” (y/n) heard the breathiness of her own voice and Thomas’s eyes snapped up to her lips but he did the opposite of what she expected. Instead of leaning forward he dropped to his knees.

“What are you doing?” Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. Thomas looked up at her as his hand wrapped around her ankle. Then his hand began to move. Soft, light, teasing he dragged his hand up her calf and he leaned down to place a kiss on her shin. He pulled her leg forward to place another warm kiss on the top of her knee. Then another, another until he reached the hem of her dress. He looked up at her then. He didn’t ask but he looked and drew his hand up to push her dress further up, revealing the fullness of her thigh. Another kiss, another. And she felt herself react, the wetness between her thighs making itself known. She wondered if he could see it through the sheerness of her dress. He teased his lips over her skin, drawing patterns, and swiping his tongue out and it drove her crazy, made her breathless.

She grasped the edges of the table. He made her mind melt, his continuous movements. She found it hard to form any thoughts, let alone words, “You’re hurt, Thomas.” That was the best she could come up with.

“Don’t feel hurt.” He mumbled out against her skin. He moved further up, nudging the last of her dress up with his nose as placed more open mouth kisses. He had reached the apex of her thigh and if he just turned his head and leaned forward a breath, he would be right where she needed him. And her heart felt as if it was making a run for it as he did just that. He was so close. She could feel his breath against her core, and she knew there was no way that he couldn’t tell how wet she was. She could feel it dripping past her lips. And the hitch in his breath and slight rumble from his chest hinted that he could see it. He took one lick, a deep one that teased past her folds and her hips jerked at the sudden sensation.

Suddenly she gained some sentience and realized that this wouldn’t solve anything. Did she want this? Grab his hair and pull him forwards to devour her? Yes. Yes, she did. But he was bleeding out moments ago, he had hurt her before, humiliated her even if it was a mistake, and it was the middle of the night. It was happening to fast. So, it took all her effort to push him away and drag him back up to his feet. He was caught off guard, a bit dazed, his eyes wide with surprise and his lips just glistening from her wetness.

“What’s wrong?” His hands found her waist and she realized she had missed that feeling, the weight of them around her.

She shook her head, her hands gripping his biceps, to ground herself, “This won’t help anything. It’ll just make it more complicated.”

He looked at her. That indifferent, shuttered look began to fall over his face, “No, no Thomas don’t shut down. I’m just saying that I need to think. That I need to slow down. I don’t want to just be some fantasy of a memory fulfilled.”

He pulled her too him and leaned down to place a soft, feather kiss on her lips. She could just taste the hint of herself on him and a surge of desire pulsed through her, but she needed to be strong.

“You’re not a fantasy. You’re real. I don’t want you to regret it.” Her mouth twisted at his choice of words as she remembered what she had told him after the party. How she had regrated the platform, the balcony, the kisses, the moments, all of it. She turned away from him, releasing herself from his arms.

“Button up, it’s cold outside.” She grabbed his jacket from one of the kitchen chairs and brushed it off before holding it to him. He was silent in his acceptance. She walked him to the door and watched as he walked down the front steps before turning around and looking up at her. (y/n) shivered against the winter air.

He cleared his throat, “You’re not leaving then?”

(y/n) shrugged, “I don’t know. That’s why I don’t want to…to start anything that won’t be finished.”

Thomas looked down at his feet. He looked young in this moment of vulnerability. He looked very close to the Thomas she had been with on the platform.

His mouth twitched as if trying to fight against his own words, “Will you do the deliveries again?”

“Yes.” She whispered, her breath clouding in the air.

Part 6 ---- Part 8 (Coming soon...)

Tags: @black-kitten-imagines, @illuminwtesz, @slutforcoffein, @madeinuk, @in0320, @globetrotter28, @txmxav, @christina-who, @sagemastah, @marcysbear,

[scoops404]

How do you come up with your fic titles? And what were some of the hardest ones to pick:]

This is such a good and hard question. I've been thinking about it for hours.

Hoo boy i had some things to say I guess

Ones I regret:

I've never fallen from quite this high, florida man dub, i was your willing accomplice honey, when the frost is gone there you'll find mulberries.

My favorite title is probably Hits Different. it's just so perfect for that fic where they, you know, hit each other, but also their relationship hits different AND that was the song i was obsessed with when writing it. Too perfect.

I hate coming up with titles but i recognize the title is very important to the fic. I use a lot of Taylor Swift songs (all of my hot girl summer bingo fics were named after TTPD songs) and John Dunne poems. Two fools is from a a john dunne poem: "I am two fools, I know, / For loving, and for saying so" (shine here to us is also from a john dunne poem called The Sun Rising, which i also used for a teen wolf fic "All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy")

Otherwise, I name fics based on what they're about and/or a pun. Circling Back (fun fact my boss said this very same thing the other day and it made me internally laugh)

Wait, here's a funny screenshot of Chelsey helping come up with that title

Let me familiaize you (which is about George accidentally making Patches his familiar but also means, like, let me catch you up on the tea but in corporate speak).

I also have two PWPs with biblical names or allusions - A pillar of salt in front of sodom, which of course references Lot's wife turning back as the arch angels were destroying the city for the sin there. The other one is Like Moses at the Burning Bush which is an awesome title and references the moment when god calls to moses to go back and save his people--a real call to action, so to speak. but this was a more direct in-joke between me and some friends from a discord server, which i won't explain because it will make no sense to anyone else. I have often felt that I need this to be a triology and thus need a new pwp nasty boy to complete it. (can i use you up could have gone here but i was sticking to the TTPD names then)

Here is a screenshot of me bothering dizzy to help name this fic (and I can share it now because the thing it references has already come to pass)

Can you imagine crying in the club about a fic called "Bloomer Sooner"???? lmao

bless dizzy's heart for being like "your titles are usually better than that"

For Merry men making merry - I wanted a title that referenced this was a Robinhood AU. Here's me bothering Taizi about if I should change it or not

And then we can't not talk about the one time I have changed a fic's title after it was posted, but before it finished uploading:

the Sapnap mpreg abortion fic (my beloved). It was originally called... okay i actually don't remember but my author's note says it was from "fresh out the slammer" which is not my favorite song on TTPD. But yall.... the fic title of this fic is so perfect that I'm mad at myself for not thinking of it originally-- I'm having his baby (no i'm not) like come on that's a perfect title

I like my long fics to have only one or two words in the title (learned that less from i've never fallen from quite this high--but i named that one before i had fandom friends to bother for their opinions. in fact, that was the fic that made me my fandom friends yay)

Hits different, just one touch, shine here to us, deep in dream, Anagnorisis

Oh! Deep in the dream of a game--i knew I wanted the title of that one to reference the end poem (because the end poem is sprinkled into every chapter of that story if you squint) and someone who is no longer in the fandom came up with that line of the poem and I agreed it was perfect. Shortening it to deep in dream also just makes me laugh.

Anagnorisis is an experimental phase of naming something pretentious and it didn't super work out. People are confused on the name, understandably so. The word itself is a dramatic term meaning "the point in a play, novel, etc., in which a principal character recognizes or discovers another character's true identity or the true nature of their own circumstances." Which was my funny way of showing you guys that there were two side of the story and kinda foreshadowed george's realization that dream is coming at things from an entirely different perspective and that it would be revealed to him in time

See the Elephant is also a really good title, i think, because it's literally about an elephant soul mark, but also, this fic came out right after the grituation. See the elephant as a phrase means "Experience more than one wants to, learn a hard lesson; also, see combat, especially for the first time" which kinda felt applicable for us all coming out of the trenches for George.

Theres hope out the window is from a twenty one pilots song literally about guns and gun violence, which is also what that fic is about (underrated fic imo)

Continuously Unraveling New Thoughts: CUNT hehehehe. This one i just wanted to see if anyone would make the acronym and not realize. like "CUNT!Dream is so patient!"

Shameless.

And here is Extra coming through with the blueprint

For vis-a-vis, my beloved microfic, here's my call to the people on what I should name this thing. I usually don't listen anyway, but Flower had such a good suggestion that my jaw dropped

The Curse and Cure of the Internet -> very hard fic to name. I had written that line in the fic itself and it just kinda jumped out at me as the title. And it worked. I really think it works well as a title and inherently makes sense to that fic in particular.

Presently in London - just kinda funny because it was written for Dream's birthday, so present, but also he went to visit London so he was presently in london. A pun. I do love those.

Anyway this has gotten long enough. Titles are so fun. The fic really starts to feel real when i have a title and can start referring to it that way!

[loudsnapdragon]

-- okay, so i've never posted a wip before, but i've been staring at this word doc for three hours and really want to send some of it out into the world without much explanation, so have a wip wednesday without warning. from a robin buckley character study, it's some angsty stobin post-starcourt --

Later, ash and dust settled on the burnt-out shell of the mall, cover-ups plastered all over the newspapers selling slower than the ultra-fast gossip that spreads in the smallest of smalltown suburbia, and her wrist still sore from signing like, a million NDAs, somehow the worst injury she sustained, she returns to her favorite debilitating coping mechanism. She hides.

Her parents are blissfully unaware of the truth, spending the summer digging out the lawn and working on a too-late vegetable patch, picking out weedy carrots and raising them up high so she can admire them from her bedroom window, waiting until she responds with a shaky thumbs up before they chuck them into a wicker basket. She shuffles back under her sheets without showering or brushing her hair. She stays there for seven days.

Her mom drops off mugs of tea, organic chamomile and lavender, kissing her forehead, checking in. Tells her Sarah from band called. Robin won’t remember to call her back. Her parents haven’t given her time limit on the freak out, but they’re expecting it to end soon. Her mom tells her a bedtime story of some folk festival in Nebraska going alight with her dotty friend’s forgotten cigarette. The patchwork tents in flames just another funny anecdote from their previous childless nomad lives. I get it sweetie, it’s scary, mom says, fussing with her hair, dragging the longest strand down her back, clearly reminiscing to the time when Robin was uneducated on The Runaways, before she gained an affinity for cutting her hair short with her dad’s razorblades.

I’m so glad you’re okay. Take all the time you need.

And Robin nods, because she is okay, in the grand scheme of universe shattering things. Her mom hugs her, and like always, she forgets to hug back at first, the motion only kicking in after smelling the arnica medicine rubbed onto her mom’s elbows. The sensory trigger doing the trick. But arnica doesn’t scent her dreams, it’s just sickly-sweet ice cream and tepid water from the nasty mall fountain and the strawberry cleaning chemicals they used to pour down the cinema toilets and oh, Steve’s blood. The dark red drip scabbing at the edge of his mouth, the rancid iron she could smell from even three feet away.

The next day, she finally leaves the house. Takes her bike and cycles adrift through Loch Nora. Like, it has to be one of these rich bitch houses, it has to be. But she doesn’t see a Beamer, even if she did, she probably wouldn’t recognise it, and she doesn’t find a handy mailbox with orange neon light details blaring: STEVE IS HERE.

She does find Carol Perkins, popping gum as she lazily waters her family’s front lawn, the sprinklers broke with the last big power outage, and she says her mom is going to be pissed if the grass is anything less than lime green. She wouldn’t normally talk to Robin this much, but eh, privileges of being a victim of the supposed Starcourt electrical fire must win her some short-lived perks, cos when she asks which direction is it to Steve’s (cos even if they’re not friends since the dingus’s dramatic high school dethroning, Carol always knows what's up) Carol doesn’t even try to be mean, she just pushes her gum to the inside of her cheek, and says that Steve doesn’t live in this neighbourhood. His place is on Elm Street, largest house there, you can’t miss it.

She cycles faster than before, hunting down a desperate unidentifiable need. Knocks on his door as soon as she sees it, sudden dread filling her with the thought that it could be the asshole dad to open, but no, she exhales, it’s just Steve. He smiles, scratches his nose. He didn’t expect her visit, he tells her, needless information considering his current outfit, a pit-stained basketball tee, plaid pyjama pants, and a single greying sock. 

We should do something.

Cool. Sure. Um. Let me get my keys.

He gets changed into jeans and a clean polo first, thankfully, but it’s only a few minutes later that they’re sitting in the Beamer with her bike stashed in the back. He asks her where she wants to go, and her brain empties of all articulate thoughts. In the quiet that follows, peppered with the tinkling of his keys as he fidgets with them in his left hand, she’s flooded with everything she’s tried so hard to not think about.

There’s blood, loads of it. The elevator floor falling beneath her feet. Vomit landing in the water of the toilet bowl. Monsters, real life monsters, squelching with human guts dragging over the mall’s star-patterned tiles. But that’s just the background noise, the slow bass line to the screaming chorus. He knows, not everything, but he knows. She looked it up in her copy of that dumb D.A.R.E. pamphlet, Ketamine can take up to fourteen days to leave the body. It can make you inexplicably happy and numb to external disturbers. It can warp your reactions. Make bad things appear good. And Steve, someone real, knows.

Slowly, so slowly she doesn’t realise it until his big man thumb is digging into her palm. And oh, look at that, they’re holding hands again.

It’s going to be okay. It’ll get easier, I freaked out so bad the first time, but like, you get used to it.

It’s not just that. She admits, but, um, thanks. Thank you.

What’s up?

You really don’t care? She waits, sees his slanted not-so dumb eyes blink as he tries to understand. About me?

Oh. Yeah. No. No. I don’t care. Like, bummed I got rejected by another pretty girl, sure, but also, well… we’re alive? Aren’t we?

He squeezes her hand, and once again, she gets it. Why all the other pretty girls used to fall for him. Fuck. If only she could be normal. But it’s enough. She looks down at her scuffed sneakers, Sharpie-ed Patti Smith lyrics on the rubber dropping into the footwell as the soles peel around her toes. She knows where they need to go.

Cool. Let’s go shopping.

Nice. He snorts like a boy. Releases her hand to turn the ignition. Fuck yeah, let’s go shopping.

Shopping for designer-clad Steve usually involves a short road trip to Muncie, so she takes a little thrill by squashing that plan, suggesting the thrift with a cheapskate smirk instead. And ah, of course naïve ex-rich boy Steve didn’t even know Hawkins had a Salvation Army, so she has to direct him as he drives. Ah, to be an oblivious member of the upper middle class, ignorant of all the grimy places she considers local landmarks.

Do your parents know? Steve asks from the driver’s seat.

They’re not talking about Russians under Starcourt. But also, they are. The ambiguity frees up a little breath caught in her throat. She's not scared to tell her parents, but she's not ready. Maybe never will be.

No way. Yours?

Nah.

He opens the store’s door for her when they get there, waving her in, like they’re on a date, which makes her laugh, which makes him grin. She can tell he’s putting it on a bit, his general snooty disdain for everything inside, comically put-upon disgust when picking up a pair of grubby cowboy boots from the shelves, which do, to be fair, smell like horseshit, but come on Steve, they’re real cowboy boots, they’re going to have stepped on some horseshit in their previous life.

Eddie Munson is in the corner of the store, picking through the jewellery display before diving headfirst into a box of cassettes. Not an uncommon sight in these parts, but she steers Steve away from that section, not yet sure if she can trust him yet to resist acting cold around the super-senior freak, like he used to when Eddie stumbled into Scoops to buy a butterscotch waffle cone.

Mrs Mulgrew by the cash register never smiles, but she seems quietly tickled by the smartly dressed boy Robin’s dragged in, and she waves them over, showing off a recent donation of genuine silver teaspoons. Robin tries a joke about stealing them to sell on the illicit teaspoon black market, which makes Steve roll his eyes, gently bumping Mrs Mulgrew shoulders, like: God, I can’t take her anywhere. And Mrs Mulgrew’s icy composure cracks, her crinkly wrinkled lips itching at the sides into an almost-smile.

She buys some old black work boots and two oversized man’s shirts, and Steve clearly, really, really doesn’t understand why out of all things, those are her purchases, but he doesn’t say anything. Both of them still figuring out how much they can push the line. The snide remarks stilling on their tongues when the obvious need for something kind is binding them together.

She kicks off her old Converse in the car before they drive home. Shoves on the new boots and wiggles her toes under the steel caps. Counts out the last few dimes left remaining in her wallet and curses under her breath.

We need new jobs.

Yeah, duh. Steve says, and Robin smiles, because they’re finding their line. She grabs at his hand.

We are going to find gainful employment. She swings their hands into the air, like it’s a joke, and he laughs too, but they are a we, now, and she might never let go of this hand ever again.

[rollypoliesonarock]

(ignore the mess, I just got to my moms for the holidays and she's been using my bedroom as a closet, I have no room for my own stuff I've brought with me now so it's all kinda piled on the floor)

Anyway...

PANTS PROGRESS!!!

Spent the last couple days adding blank patches cut from an old T-shirt for a show I don't care about much anymore (a my hero academia shirt I got in 8tj grade specifically). So there's a lot more pant covered in patch now!

Don't remember how much I did last time I posted these pants, but I painted the bottom front bit white awhile ago so I (and others, but mostly me) can doodle on them since I always carry a sharpie on me.

Still lots of work to do. I want these at least 90% covered in patches, plus there's a bunch of stuff I want to add still, but it's coming along nicely in my opinion. Thinking on learning to make stencils and doing some more interesting designs with that soon too.

Also I really need to move the Jin patch because I've realized that it will wear down and fall apart if I keep it there. Actually I might do that immediately after I post this because that was my first ever embroidered patch and it has waaaayyyy too much sentimental value to fall apart

And yeah as always you can steal any ideas you want for your own projects. A significant portion of my stuff was inspired by others, so it's only right for me to inspire others and pass on the creativity or something.

[thormanick]

So let me throw in my five cents on Skirk's design,

because I have Thoughts TM (TLDR: it confuses me)

WARNING: this post CONTAINS Skirk's image which might still be spoiler-y if you haven't seen the livestream!

First of all, if you like it and if this is how you envisioned her to be and this design speaks to you - great!!! I'm very happy for you! I'm glad that the character you found interesting for so long without any visual details being available for so long delivered on your expectations. (Depending on how the rest of her outfit works I might join your camp lol)

Second of all. Character design. Let's talk a bit.

When you do character design, there are some aspects you ideally want to incorporate into the final look. Character design ideally should hint at the role the character plays - either have allusions to their archetype or have easily identifiable details/signifiers which could then create associations with the role they're supposed to fulfill in the narrative. At the same time, the design of the character may also reflect their nature (once again through the associations) (and I guess my impressions are mostly informed by the archetypes I encounter in primarily western media); symmetry and light colour often oppose asymmetry and darker colours, thus creating "visual" conflict between the characters that are narratively supposed to be in conflict. Yet another thing to remember when working on the character design is character's individual past and how it affects their present, as well as the environment they've grown in and are living in. Are there any specific trinkets, patterns or materials included in their outfit? If so, what is the reason behind them? What do they signify to the character and how in turn it speaks to us as someone observing them in the context of the story? etc., etc., etc.

All this to say, there are even more steps to this process when done in-depth/professionally (I only go off my assumptions): character should be recognisable, easily identifiable, preferably have very individualistic silhouette, etc. So, when we think of Skirk's design, I think we must first and foremost try to understand how it works together with the information that was already known about her.

Skirk is an warrior who dwells in Abyss, fights Abyssal monsters, someone who can be a good mentor figure and who is very skillful at what she does (fighting).

This is where I am a bit confused with what we see. Mind you, it doesn't mean that I have any strong positive/negative emotions about it yet (I'd need to see the full design to properly collect my thoughts), I'm just really, really confused so far.

My confusion stems from several key aspects of the design: chosen colour palette, chosen clothing design, chosen accessory design. Let's dig in.

I will start with clothing design. Now, I've seen some people note that a) Skirk's outfit seems to show a lot of skin, which is impractical; b) that her armour is not complete (top is separate from bottom as I understood it). When looking upon what little we currently have, the armour seems to be complete (there seems to be a connecting piece going over the mid section of the body, however it remains to be seen if it like this from the front view). However, skin exposure is indeed something I do not completely understand as a design choice for a warrior-themed character. I would understand it if it happened naturally (through tears from past battles, for example. Maybe there are patched-up claw-tears or something similar. That would instil air of fear and respect towards Skirk and show that she has been through a lot.), but current setup seems to be too deliberate and more guided by fashion choices, which in my eyes renders it quite impractical. At the same time I want to note, however, that there are weird fin-like structures growing out of Skirk's back (they are briefly visible when she turns). Depending on whether she uses them or not and if she has more of them, then the open skin on the back can be kinda-sorta explained.

Next, I would like to address the accessories. They mostly confuse me because they seem to be very flow-y and etherial. Etherial aspect works in Skirk's favour, because she is someone who should be very different compared to the average character from Teyvat. Their shape (specifically the hairpiece) reminds me of fins and butterfly wings, which can have diametrically opposed effects in term of tone in this instance. Butterfly wings seem more royal, aesthetic, unbothered by the worlds, while fins might hint at the connection of Skirk to the place (Abyss) and to her own nature (the fin-like things on her back). (Together with the loose hair, however, there seem to be lots of flow-y lines in the upper part of her design, which creates air of relaxation about her that I don't find particularly applicable to what we already know of her as a character).

The last but not the least, the colour palette that surprised me the most is something I need to highlight here. Skirk's colours are rather pale/pastel purple/lavender(?), with accents of deeper purple, blue and underlying structure of black. I think it confuses me mostly because it seems to be so non-threatening, when I expected quite the opposite. However, despite confusing me, it kinda works. One of the points of character design is to reflect the surrounding nature of the character/play on it, and current colour choicrs kinda do the job very well. All the colours that Skirk wears are the colours surrounding her (endless space), and is also kinda related to the palette Abyss technically uses in Genchin and where Skirk comes from.

This is where I need to go off on a bit of a tangent. I think normally when we think of Abyss in Genshin we think of Spiral Abyss, which contains lots of heavier, darker colours (very dark blue, dark purples, some silver, black, maybe red); however, the Abyss we've seen (or some parts of the Abyss we've seen) can be quite whimsical and use slightly lighter shades of blue and purple. What I mean to say is that Abyss seems dark, but not always threatening, and so Skirk may embody this trait of Abyss. At the same time, given her current design, she seems more at home in the space the Space Whale TM and Primordial Water comes from, which, once again, leaves me with more questions than answers.

Finally, given that she seems at home in a place that is connected to Primordial Water and the Whale and seems to have fins and fin-related elements incorporated in her design, I wonder if this is supposed to be her natural place of dwelling, and if she is as disconnected from Abyss as she seems to be from Teyvat.

Something like this. I will need to see the rest of her outfit to reach a more final verdict, but for now I am cautiously hopeful and kinda optimistic. Still kinda confused (because expectations were quite different from reality)

P.S. Thank you for reading through this if you did, I'm sorry for rambling for so long.

[sims3fiend]

Sims 3 Memory Freer

Been kinda busy so I haven't had any sims3 time lately :( but I'm back at it and lookin' at Error 12 again, this time with an ASI file you can use!

Here is a link to the memory "freer", spoilers, it doesn't really free memory. Please read the readme, but basically it just shows a message box/alert when you're getting close to the cap, and has a hotkey (f8) for setting max detail lots to 0 (sometimes helps free memory in a pinch).

To use it you'll either need the smooth patches ASI loader or dxwrapper's (recommended), then just pop it into your Bin directory (make sure LoadPlugins is set to 1 if you're using dxwrapper). I'm also going to update my performance tweaks post to fix some of the now-inaccurate information, but most of the stuff there I still recommend (just not dxvk).

If anyone knows anything that triggers a purge/cleanup lmk! It would fix literally all of this. I've tried traveling to other maps, entering into various editors, changing settings, chanting hymns etc, but nothing seems to work.

Unfortunately nothing I've tried on the memory-freeing front has really panned out, but I still have some avenues that I want to check out. The issue seems to be lot objects not being fully unloaded once the lot is no longer high-detail loaded, which causes memory to balloon over time as more lots are detail loaded.

Here's some things I've tried, in typical rambling fashion, a lot of this will be meaningless to 99% of people:

DXVK…. Nooooooo…. It seems like it does increase overall memory usage. I'm not sure if I've just stuffed a config option up or something, but it seems to have a substantial impact. I'd recommend just sticking with d9 for now, or using dxwrappers 3D9On12 (idk if it actually works tho)

HeapCompact/Clearing working set. Clearing the working set will let you save, however it wont actually remove that memory, you'll just crash instead of getting an Error 12

Obvious memory leaks. Sadly every alloc has a free assigned to it, so there's no easy, obvious memory leaks.

Setting D3DPOOL to DEFAULT, game no like, textures don't display

Manually clearing textures. Kind of worked, but there's no real way to selectively know which textures are safe to unload, because the game often reports things wrong. I might revisit this failing everything else

Deleting cache files/save cleaning. Not a fan, doesn't fix the issue, merely delays it and makes your game look like glitchy garbage in the meantime. If you're going to clean your save, just delete the _objects file in WorldCaches and then mark it as read only. The sims one isn't worth the limbless horrors that await you, and sims load in much faster than objects, which can sit grey'd for minutes (or until you save your game and they all load in at once and crash you)

Various config options and settings. I did find some neat hidden options and some useful settings, but nothing that really has a huge impact. I found ForceHighLODObjects which is what I was looking for in my initial performance tweaks post, which basically cures stutter, at the cost of much higher memory usage. Useless until there's an object free-ing fix, and even then probably a very bad idea on maps like Alpine County.

Anywho, that's it for this post. Remember to always save in the map screen!

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

For very valid reasons, I'm not trusted by most of the system. I've been cut off from most connections I'd created since the end of 2022. Ash continued reporting to me, at least the basic day to day things. But things began to change and he reported less and less over last year. Eventually, he quit altogether, and I had no idea what everyone was up to. I had no idea Pandemonum was beginning to heal, or that they'd all investigated enough to process our early childhood. I was not aware of the drone being used for more than personal entertainment.

During his coup, Ash had to get me onboard to hold on to Joshua's power within us. It wasn't that I didn't see why he was doing it, since the hypocrisy was pretty obvious. But there had to be rules, or things would fall apart on us. So we made a contract with conditions that had to be met, otherwise I would take direct control.

It turns out that he pushed the bounds of our agreement and gave me both the bare minimum of what would satisfy me, as well as the most regarding the healing process that wouldn't cause me to step in. Like that Pandemonum was cooperating at all and out in the open in a layer that existed in the shadow of the main layer. Or that it and other parts were using the drone to compile their splintered and disorganized memories. And in all fairness, Ash did know I was against such a thing with our memories because of our instability. But as it happens, others coming out of the first few rounds of fusions had their own ideas because of prior healing. I do, at least, remember collectively realizing we're a trans man, but not much past that.

I shot down so many ideas because of my own insecurities and fears. No beating around the bush. Can't blame Ash for slowly giving me less and less of actually useful details. He turned out like he did partially because of me and how I did things. I was busy keeping everything separate, with special attention to exact words. I'm more than likely responsible for a lot of the posts that never got published.

Admittedly, this is uncomfortable for me. I'm used to working in the shadows, the background. I don't like being front and center. Perhaps that's the trauma. But the others are holding me to this now that awareness has spread that I've been found. I'm already being connected to the drone, anyway. Not really much choice at this point. No point in protesting, and I don't have any right to be angry about it. I've been far more forceful to them in the past, and very hurtful.

No, I'm really not angry at all. If anything, I'm just sad. I'm rambling now, but the fact that things reached the point they did. And all I was doing was slapping bandaids over everything, as if that would be enough on its own.

Yes, the pandemic was big enough to shut me down for a while. It's how the others were able to connect the few dots they did in the beginning. That was not at all in the plan, but now I do realize that my plan was inherently flawed.

My plan is what led to our periodic crashing at critical moments because we were patched together with essentially nothing more than tape. My plan meant suppressing things if they became inconvenient for whatever reason, then ignoring them. Mainly emotions. But it meant that tension built up constantly, and I became a pressure cooker of stress and anxiety. And when something happened, I went boom. I was absolutely neurotic, and of course I hurt more than just myself.

Now, they have more control in the system than me. The drone also represents them pooling their power as individual parts and sharing in it equally. It's for a lot of reasons, but perhaps most importantly for that sense of equality and feeling seen. The power it gives them is more of a bonus than a conscious goal.

Frankly, I should be quite proud of them. They absolutely did a lot better with things than I'd expected they would. I'm one who was afraid we weren't strong enough to handle the truth. My only goal was preservation and survival. What we wanted didn't matter at all. I've never been good at the stuff we want.

I guess if others with serious issues can recover, so can I. It just seems so...I don't know. Awkward. Rhodes insists we'll get there. Healing should feel good, even if it sometimes still hurts.

I'm thinking of calling myself Seer instead of Overseer, I really don't know. I guess it depends on how my role changes as I heal.

-Magicat Overseer ☎️😺

[wanderer-willow]

Okay, let me try to at least make this somewhat short... key word *try*

My name is Willow and I've been quietly observing for a while, and now I've felt the courage to actually make an intro post out of nothing but boredom.

I'm a pretty private person, so don't expect many pictures of me, you'll probably get more pictures of my Pokémon than myself, or posts of my own art

Regarding DNIs - Iro A. Pou is pretty high up there on this list (due to personal reasons that some people I know have knowledge of), I guess people with their head up their ass in general dni as I don't feel like dealing with people who refuse to listen to reason (sorry evil teams 😔)

And I think that's it?

Oh- I guess I should also at least introduce my Pokémon “team” (I don't really battle anymore, even then I never did it, the companionship is enough for me) I guess I'll start from the one's I've had the longest then work my way down. I'll also include their nicknames since I usually refer to them their names anyways;

Lycanroc [Dusk Forme] (Mørkt ( translates loosely to “Dusky” or translates a bit more specifically to “dark”)) - I've had him for a long while, my parents say that I've had him as my first pokèmon, which pictures seem to back up, when he was a rockruff. He actually evolved when I was in the hospital and is a trained service pokèmon for PTSD and mobility. (a very good boy)

Garchomp (Dune) - He’s been around the longest (aside from Mørkt) and is definitely a brute of sorts, I don’t exactly remember how I got him actually (I think he was found as an egg?), but man can he hold a grudge.

Scolipede (Stalk) - he just kinda started following me when I was wandering Pinwheel Forest when he was a Venipede, no aggression, no attacking, just following. After a few days I put a Greatball in front of him and he chose to get caught.

Krookodile (Nibbles) - I found him nestled in and teething on the curl of my walking stick as a Sandile. I didn't move him for a bit since he'd try to bite me if I tried to get him out. I caught him at some point (something he's still reasonably salty about) because an old… “friend” mocked the fact I had a Sandile in my walking stick.

Sawsbuck (Grove) - I found him shedding his leaves in the fall while having a bad leg which I treated (I think it was due to muscle strain?). After that he hung around me and my other team members until I caught him in a nest ball.

Sigilyph (Relic) - they were found with Yūrei, they had some scratches and minor damage done to their body. I patched them up and caught them not too long after.

✨️ Yamask (Yūrei) - she was found with Relic, following their flight pattern and everything. She was also pretty banged up and didn't even put up any struggle when I caught her.

Joltik (Ohm) - He is brother’s with my “friend’s” Joltik, he was actually a gift from this friend. I haven't seen Ohm’s brother in a long time but I hope he's okay. Ohm does like wearing fabric scraps around his legs.

Update: Ohm's brother is now in my care.

Thievul (Bandit) - she snuck into my house as a Nickit. I haven't necessarily caught her, but she does still hang around.

Mimikyu (Tatters) - he's a rather weak Mimikyu that I found in a field about to be picked off by some wild pokèmon. I don't know what happened nor why he was so frail when he was so

Espeon (Perris) - She was a welcome home gift from my sister, as an Eevee she was fairly apathetic or just uninterested with most things that wasn't bubbles being blown or small bug pokèmon crossing her path and really liked sun bathing. So was I surprised when she evolved into an Espeon? No. No I wasn't

[OOC:]

Hi Hi Rotumblr, my name is WK (I go by They/Them online), and my main blog is @/forgetful-nightmares-stuff.

I have ADHD (diagnosed but now suspected that I have AuDHD), and My memory is pretty shit on a good day and I'm not very active on Tumblr anymore, so I may be slow with updates!

I'm willing to answer Willow-related questions or clarification on some responses if someone needs it or is just curious about this forest witch I call an OC lol.

Important Willow things: She has Chromesthesia (I do not have it but am doing research into the topic!), and has PTSD with bladed Pokémon (ex. Bisharp, Gallade, Aigeslash, and Ceruledge) due to an incident involving Iro and a Kartana that left her physically scarred. I'll be working on most of her conditions and making sure I represent both of them well (except her ADHD as I have it myself :/)

Other things:

In-universe anon hate: Off (for now)

Pelipper mail and malice: On

Musharna mail and malice: On

Magic anon: Off (for now)

[dearyallfrommatt]

In Wolverine's first ongoing series back in the late '80s/early '90s, the operating premise was the entire world thought the X-Men had died in Dallas, sacrificing themselves to save all of reality from something Forge did in Vietnam. This was also about the time X-Factor (then the original five X-Men with non-furry Beast) saved New York City for the umpteenth time, but this time on camera.

It was one of those times when the Marvel hoi polloi decided that maybe those mutant superheroes actually are superheroes and maybe mutants aren't to be feared and despised right out of the box. They, of course, did nothing with it and Inferno happened soon anyway, but I digress.

Anyhow, Logan's first series was set in a fictional Southeast Asian setting called Madripoor, which mixed typical Marvel future tech side-by-side with the opening scene to the old Bring 'Em Back Alive show (or the intro scene to the second Indiana Jones movie, sorta). There was a big roster of characters, mostly new with a few classic characters, including one that had recently been introduced in the post-sacrifice X-Men.

Two other characters that became regulars for reasons I can't recall were then-erstwhile Spider-Woman Jessica Drew (who was, at the time, depowered but could still climb walls and had super strength) and her best friend Lindsay McCabe. The latter is a pretty interesting character that, far as I know, Marvel has done nothing with since bringing back that Spider-Woman.

She's a B-movie actress with aspirations of higher art but was pretty popular for the movies she makes. I'm an aficionado of B-movies, I guess you'd say, and I wonder what kind of actress she'd be remembered as by today's YouTuberatti. I don't think she was a Julie Strain or even a Linnea Quigley, but nor do I think she was a Cynthia Rothrock.

Another interesting thing about her is she stayed pretty dull her whole existence. She never turned out to be the scion of an alien empire or the grandchild of a Golden Age hero (who appeared in a grand total of one page in reality). She wasn't even a super badass normal. A good actress who'd picked up a few skills (she could shoot, for instance) but the only thing that set her apart is she wasn't affected by Jessica's pheromone thingies.

I know I'm wandering but bear with me. Also, Claremont has been said to lean into lesbian relationships extremely subtly portrayed. If so, then I saw through Jessica Drew and Lindsay McCabe as a dumbass 13-year-old in Mississippi. This is all pertinent, trust me.

Okay, back on topic. A couple of years into the run - which was pretty fun, for the most part, as Wolvie had yet to get too obnoxiously overused - Wolverine and company got mixed up in some business involving ancient gems and vampires that weren't really vampires. At the time, all vampires on Earth (except for Hannibal King) were destroyed and I'm getting off-topic again. Sorry.

So. This whole time, everyone in Wolverine's book has been calling him "Patch" because he wears an eyepatch. Nobody knows he's Wolverine, he thinks, and everyone's bamboozled. Jessica Drew, the actual former Spider-Woman now currently working as a detective in San Fransico with her "good friend" Lindsay, has become a regular and a friend of this Patch.

At some point in the story, for some reason I've never quite sussed, Wolverine decides to put on his superhero outfit. It was the dark brown/orange-yellow one at the time. The action is on a plane and when he walks out, Jessica says, paraphrased, "Oh, cool, I don't have to pretend you're dead anymore." Wolverine was actually shocked she'd guess. When asked why she didn't say anything about it, she noted (quite logically I thought ) it generally wasn't a good idea to tell the little guy with a murderous temper and razor-sharp things in his arms he's making a damn fool of himself in front of God and everybody.

The next issue or so was everyone in the book's cast telling Wolverine "Oh, yeah, we've known for ages. Bartender was the guy that told me." Good stuff.

You ever think about how Jim is smart enough to deduce (or he already knows) that Bruce Wayne is Batman but he chooses not to out of the decency of their mutual friendship? Good man that Jim.

yeah, there's no way Jim Gordon doesn't know Batman's true identity. I kind of suspect this is true of a lot of the supporting cast in BTAS.

By the third season (aka the New Batman Adventures) Batman has pretty much given up Bruce Wayne's more foppish mannerisms, haircut and dress and even speaks more like Batman in his every day life.

[peach-and-bugs]

Could you write an adult Shauna Shipman x f!reader one-shot with quote 6 "I feel like you've got a hand on me at all times" "Maybe that's because I'm irrationally afraid that you'll disappear on me if I let go"

Ir could be something like, one day f!reader gets into an accident and almost d*es and after that Shauna doesn't let f!reader out of her sight because she's afraid that she'll loose her like she lost Jackie all those years ago

Thank you if you'll do it <3

💙Slipping Like Satin - Shauna Sadecki x fem!Reader💙

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: During the scuffle to try and catch the blackmailer, y/n is injured and Shauna hasn't left her alone since.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, blood, general angst

Word Count: 1,663

A/N: Hello Loves! I'm trying out a new header for my next couple of fics! I might tweak it to get the style to be something I like more, but I'm excited about the new aesthetic. But this has been a request that I've been saving till I knew exactly how I wanted it to go, and while it's still not exactly what I wanted, I'm pretty happy with it, so I hope you enjoy! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Shauna Shipman/Sadecki Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💙-

“God damn it, Natalie, I knew this was a terrible idea!” You heard Shauna scream, her voice growing shrill as her throat squeezed with upset. It had hardly registered yet, but you began to feel a hot pain on the skin of your upper bicep. Your hand was squeezing the spot, and when you moved it away, you could see a glistening red sticky on your fingers in the orange light.

“Fuck. We’re completely fucked!” Natalie barked back, running her hands through her hair as she began to pace in a circle. Only then did you notice the gun in her hand. You bit your lip, swallowing thickly as you looked back down at your fingertips. That is till Shauna moved in front of you, taking your hand in hers.

“Hey, it’s ok. You’re alright,” she murmured in a hushed voice. You began to nod but didn’t say a word. Getting shot didn’t actually hurt as much as you might have anticipated prior, you now realized. “Can I have a look?” Shauna asked though she was already moving your arm gently with her shaking hands. Anxiety knit her brow as she tried her best to keep her breathing steady.

“Tai, can you come look?” She asked, gently adjusting your sleeve to get a look at the wound. Taissa moved beside her, pulling out her phone to turn the flashlight on. They both examined the area with furrowed brows and frowning lips.

“It looks like it only grazed her,”

“Should we get her to a doctor?” Shauna’s voice was low and hushed like she was trying to keep the thought of a doctor out of your head. Or maybe it was Natalie’s. The brunette still seemed quite upset with the whole ordeal. Taissa took another look before she shook her head.

“No. If we clean and bandage it good she should be alright,” she brushed at the wound with her finger just too close and you took in a hissed breath through your teeth, your nose scrunching at the sting. You heard Shauna gasp, her eyes widening ever so slightly as her grip tightened. Taissa retracted her hand but you managed a smile with a small chuckle.

“Let’s just get this patched up, ok? I’ll be completely fine,” your eyes wavered to Shauna for the last bit. You might have been attempting to assure her more than yourself, but you weren’t too sure.

If you were being honest, you didn’t remember the whole affair all that well. Mostly there was confetti, or maybe it had been glitter? It was something colorful and it got in your eyes, that’s all that mattered. It was followed by more of a foot chase before you burst out into a parking lot in time to watch the blackmailer driving off. You thought that had been the end of it, till you heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by a clank of metal. Most of what you could remember was just recounting what the others had said, but you wouldn't admit that. You knew Shauna would freak about the whole thing more if she knew.

She had been showing up on your doorstep nearly every day after that night. She argued it was to check on your injury, though you could handle it yourself. She’d been insistently clingy recently. She doesn’t talk to you for just under a decade then all of the sudden she’s showing up at your door with food and various banned goods like clockwork. She might as well move into your apartment with how often she was dropping in, keeping tabs on your every move. It was likely from her sixteen years as a mom, and you appreciated a little help every now and then, but it was becoming a little much. You thought of all of this while on the toilet, anticipating Shauna might be waiting outside the door.

She didn’t turn up right outside the door as you thought, but walking back into your apartment's main room, you found her scurrying around your kitchen, as though she was attempting to appear as though she’d been busy in your absence. She’d pulled carrots out of the fridge and some other vegetables she was now prepping.

“What are you doing now?” you tried your best not to sound irritated, though it might have been hinted under your tongue. Shauna’ pressed her lips in a line and shrugged, seemingly trying to look casual as she shrugged.

“I thought I’d make a soup,”

“You don’t need to do that, I can make food,” She nodded but didn’t look up from her carrots. You stood still, simply watching her without a word, trying to configure what could be going on in that head of hers. Yes, you’d been in an accident. Technically you'd been shot, but not really. It was scary for everyone involved. But it wasn’t a big deal! You were clearly doing fine. You’d been cleared by your doctor, though they only thought it was grazing from a bad fall. Why was she suffocatingly all over you? Your brow creased and you frowned, looking away.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” You didn’t wait for her to look up before turning around and going back to your bedroom. You leaned your back and head against your shut door, now safe in the seclusion of your room. You didn’t mean to be, well, mean. But this sudden attention was unfortunately discomfiting. You felt fragile under your care. You hadn’t felt fragile in years. Probably not since ‘96. You shivered at the thought of what happened back then. Shaking the thought away, you rubbed your eyes with your fingers. Sleep. That’s what you needed right now. Sleep would make those thoughts go away.

-💙-

You woke up to a thumping sound somewhere in your apartment. The sound itself didn’t wake you, but it didn’t help any chances of falling asleep again. You sat up with a long yawn, dragging yourself out of bed only to notice it was now dark outside. You sniffed, leaving your room and padding out into your main living space. A warm aroma met your nose and you recalled Shauna’s soup. You were also reminded that Shauna was likely still here.

Sure enough, there she stood by your desk, your back turned to you. Her shoulders shook as you got a better look at her. Your brow furrowed and you bit your lip.

“Shauna?” Your voice was rough with sleep. Her name pulled her out of her head and she turned with a shameful look in her eye. She frantically wiped away tears that strew down her cheek. It wasn’t till you noticed what was in her hands and on the deck that you understood. She began to weakly apologize but you shook your head, silently approaching her. Her body was tense as you moved forward. She couldn’t realize it till you tenderly took the photos from her hands, fingers brushing over hers. She watched as you stroked the cheeks of the smiling girls, captured in a time capsule of Polaroid.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Shauna murmured, her eyes wandering back down to the unearthed box sitting on the desk. You shrugged, smiling sadly.

“It felt wrong not to,” you mused with a hollow sigh. “I don’t look at them often,” Shauna chuckled when a thought came to mind.

“You were so excited to get that camera,” you nodded, letting out a soft laugh of your own.

“My parents rarely gave us holiday gifts early. They told me I should ‘capture the highlight of my teen soccer career,’” Your smile wavered sadly as you flipped through the photos. “Who knew that camera would only capture the worst few months of our lives,”

“We didn’t have it for the worst part,” Shauna corrected. You felt yourself tear up and forced a sarcastic laugh.

“Thank god I ran out of film,” you took in a long, sad sniff of air. Shauna’s eyes softened, growing wide as she began to cry again. Her arms found their way around her shoulders she pulled you in. Given the unexpected contact, you dropped the photos in your hands, sending them fluttering to the ground below you. You gave into her, going limp in her arms with your hands hung wilm at your sides. She held onto you so tight as you cried together. In so many ways it felt like mourning. You still mourned those you lost, the things you'd done, and the girlhood that had been so swiftly taken away.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into her neck over and over as she told you to hush and save your words, but you couldn’t help it. You needed her to know “But I’ve been so mean to you this past week, and I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve felt like you’ve had a hand on me at all times and it scares me,” you cried, finally wrapping your arms around her back, hands squeezing desperately to the back of her cardigan. She let out a watery laugh and nodded her cheek against your forehead.

“Maybe that’s because I’m irrationally afraid that you’ll disappear on me if I let go,” She smiled as she said it, eyes shut tight. You knew just by the way her voice broke that it wasn’t a smile of joy, but one that held onto all the grief she forced herself to carry with her. You felt it too as you let out your own pitiful laugh of melancholy. You shook your head against her neck.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, ok,” you pulled away from her just enough to see her face, holding her cheeks between your hands. “I’m right here,” there was an urgency in your voice as your lip quaked, tears still spilling. She took a long break, sniffling heavily as she shakily nodded. You smiled and nodded again, running your hand over her hair.

“I’m right here,”

[partyanimal167]

Be Careful, She Bites- Nico x F! Twilight! Reader

Idk why, but I randomly got into a Gangsta. kick again, and gosh, I really miss this anime. I've read some fics on AO3 and know some people here who are in the fandom. I don't think I've ever written anything for the fandom, so I might as well try while I'm on this plane. I need to remember to add this anime to my pinned post.

I hope this is good. Thanks for reading!!!

CW: canon-typical violence, language, slightly unhinged fem reader lol

You weren't interested in being on your best behavior while trying to settle in a new town. Someone needed to make things interesting.

"You need to act right." That was the order you continued to repeat to yourself as your trailed behind your employer into a bland abandoned warehouse that could have been easily confused with the tens that surrounded it. You didn't really care what business was being carried out right now. The boss only needed you as protection which was a smart decision. The two of you were still new in town and while you had the blessings of the big heads' across the country, their protection from money alone could only do so much with the distance.

You easily ignored the lecherous stares shot your way from some low totem pole men. You continued to roll that sour hard candy in your mouth as you leaned against a stack of crates. The weather was sweltering, so you were happy you decided to don a cropped hoodie and capris. One guy kept staring, so you flicked him off. "Y/N," Damn you could never have any fun.

Negotiations were wrapping up when yelling and gun shots could be heard nearby. A window crashed from the side of the building, and two men stood casually. One had a gun out, long white blonde hair, and an eye patch. The other looked a little more rugged. He had black hair, a permanent scowl, and hand rested on the sword resting on his side.

You crunched your candy and grinned wildly. This looked like the good type of trouble to be in.

"Yoohoo, the Monroe family sends their regards." The blonde says before shooting a weaker pawn. The men instantly move to attack before other individuals join the intruders' side.

"What the fuck is going on?" the man who was talking to your boss exclaims before starting to run away.

You wanted in on the action, but you knew your priority was to get to safety. You leapt to your boss' side and started to run towards an exit.

You were cut off by that dark-haired fellow who crouched down and seemed ready to pull out that sword on you. You grinned and held out your arm in front of your boss. "I'm really in a playful mood, but I suggest you get out of my way." He didn't say anything to you, but your reflexes kicked in and tossed a knife behind him--knocking down a man who had a gun in his hand and aiming at you.

"We're not with them. Just candidates for a business relationship." the boss explained. The man didn't seem to care at all, but he looked passed you two towards his partner.

"Let them be. We don't need more work." his friend called out. In an instant, he was over by him; the light breeze passing by you.

You chuckled and continued to run off. "Hope to catch you soon!"

~~~

Your boss was adaptable if anything. That attack led to that group being absorbed and now business wanting to be done with the notorious Monroe family. You caught some of the details when your partner droned on the phone with the big bosses. You wish you paid more attention though because now you were being shuffled around a too nice-looking banquet room filled with overly dressed individuals and you in your finest pair of slacks and dress shirt. Against your better judgement, your top buttons were undone with the chain of your tags peeking at the right angle.

It was insisted that the venue and Monroes would be a safe space for your kind, but in your experience, there was no such thing. You grumbled when greeted by Daniel Monroe and properly chastised afterwards (though he didn't seem to mind much).

The only thing that kept you from running off was the arrival of those two men from before. Since the meeting, you did a little research and got quite a variety of information on the Handymen duo. They seemed like a good type of trouble to keep close for backup, and you expressed that to the boss. They seemed to agree with you for once.

The one named Worick smiled nicely to the boss and yourself--even kissing their hand. You thought the gesture to be corny yet kinda hot all the same. Your boss was not amused. Worick went on to introduce Nicolas to you. Your suspicions about your similarities were confirmed from your research, and you didn't mind peering down at the man. "Hey cuite," you chuckled. He only glared at you. You straightened up and held out your hands. No need to be mean, I don't bite. He showed more emotion with your hands being used to communicate.

"Stop being a brat. Yes you do." your boss scolded. They turned their attention back to Worick. "Excuse her, if I give her an inch, she takes a mile. Can never be to cautious."

That seemed to be enough for a laugh. "Well that's what makes working with our partners so exciting."

~~~

Nicolas knew trouble miles away, and you were trouble. He didn't often come across Twilights that were similar in strength to him, and he didn't need to see your tags to know.

He had been trailing your duo for a few hours at the request of Cristiano family who knew that you were from some distant family of powerful people. They just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to upset the city's power balance. It was boring work truthfully, but there were perks to being quiet and knowing how to hide.

Right now, the two of you were in some shitty restaurant, so Nicolas sat in a narrow alley bored. There were probably a lot of things going on during this busy time of day that he couldn't hear or cared to.

However a whoosh passed his face could definitely be felt.

He looked up to see your form standing at the alley entrance and turned to see one of your knifes stuck in the brick wall a few feet away. He reached out for his sword.

"Wow wow," you held out your hands in defense, "no need to get all violent on me." You laughed. "Can't I play with you a bit? After all, you've been on my ass all day."

Nicolas shouldn't be too surprised hearing that you knew he was lurking. He grunted and relaxed slightly on his crate. He glared at you.

"Shame we're on the same side right now," you leaned against a wall, "I wanna know how look in a fight. You one of those pill poppers?"

He knew what you were suggesting. Nicolas grunted. We all pop pills. Gonna die either way.

You grinned then shrugged. "Got a point there." You walked towards him. Nicolas was ready for an attack, but you passed him to retrieve your knife. "So what fun is there to do in this godforsaken city?"

There is no fun for us. We're here to kill and follow orders.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "What a killjoy." you still had a mischievous look in your eyes. Nicolas didn't jerk away when you reached out your hand and cupped his chin. You ran a thumb across the bottom of his lip and licked your own. "Lucky for you, I still think we can show each other a good time. There's always that at least." you grinned madly when your thumb entered the man's mouth and was held tightly between his teeth.

"Be careful. I bite too."

~~~

I miss this show/manga so much!!! I hope Kohske is doing okay. Her wellbeing is more important.

I liked writing for this fandom. The world is such an interesting setting and how things work in it. Maybe I'll try some more later.

Thank you for reading!!!

[queen-dahlia]

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

»»———-Part 1┋Part 2┋Part 3┋His POV———-««

Sorry it took me so long to post this

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

A year ago, I selected the next king of Rhodolite as Belle.

The princes of the three countries have returned home and I have safely returned to my former routine, and I am still working at the bookstore as usual.

(..... Oh, it's snowing.)

Resting my chin on the counter in the shop, I look out the window where the birds are chirping.

The season is winter, and the city is already buzzing with excitement about the upcoming Christmas season.

(Come to think of it, isn't this time of year Prince Gilbert's birthday?)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "As a matter of fact, I..."

Gilbert: "It's my birthday today."

Emma: ". . . . ."

Gilbert: "In Rhodolite, people celebrate by eating cake, don't they?"

Gilbert: "I want to eat your homemade cake."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(It's already been a year since then...)

During my stay at the court as Belle, Prince Gilbert used to mess around with me in any way he could.

The closer you got to the Prince of Obsidian, the absolute evil of the world, the colder the eyes of those around you turned.

On the contrary, Prince Gilbert's smile shines so brightly that it hurts my head now that I remember it.

(Last year's birthday is a bitter memory for me...)

(I wonder if they are celebrating in Obsidian this year).

When it is the birthday of the Imperial family of the great nation of Obsidian, the whole city should be celebrating.

(. . . . .)

(... By the way, I seem to be having hallucinations for a while now…)

I don't know why I suddenly remembered Prince Gilbert… because there is a similar person outside the window.

A man with a jet-black military uniform, an eye patch, an ornate cane, and blood-colored eyes is peering into a bookstore from outside a window.

When our eyes met, a refreshing smile burst through the falling snow.

(...No, no, no way.)

(Just because there is someone who looks like Prince Gilbert, there is no way that Prince Gilbert himself is here.)

I pinched my cheek to be sure, and it hurt.

Gilbert: "That's terrible. I can't believe you turned your face away the moment our eyes met. I thought you would be more pleased."   //   "It's cruel. To turn your face away the moment our eyes meet. I thought you would be more than happy."

(. . . . .)

A man who should have been outside the window entered the store.

The person who looked so much like Prince Gilbert even had a similar voice.

(... This is a dream… A dream.)

Gilbert: "It's not a dream. So don't try to sleep."

Gilbert: "If the prince of the evil empire sulks, what do you think Rhodolite will do?"   //   "If the prince of the evil empire sulks, what do you think would happen to Rhodolite?"

(The way he says it, this intimidating feeling... It's definitely Prince Gilbert!)

I get up from the counter with a jump.

Emma: "W-why is Prince Gilbert here..."

Gilbert: "I miss you."

Emma: "What is the purpose of this pretense?"

Gilbert: "Well, do you need another reason?"

(The fact that the Prince of Obsidian is in Rhodolite is not supposed to be there.)

Something else may be going on, a major incident that I am unaware of.

(But now I'm just a commoner... There's nothing of any use to me.)

(No, I have to stick to the lie of being a noblewoman in front of Prince Gilbert…)

They must already know who I am around the time I came to the bookstore as a matter of course.

Right now, I am not worthy of being Belle. I am guilty, though, of being a commoner's daughter who deceived the princes of three kingdoms.

I don't think it will become a serious diplomatic issue when the crime is revealed now.

Gilbert: "I've been thinking hard..."

Prince Gilbert pokes me between my eyebrows with his fingertips and smiles at me.

Gilbert: "I really missed you. How have you been lately?"

Emma: "Okay... Prince Gilbert..."

Emma: "... Have you lost some weight?"

Gilbert: "Oh, really? I think it's the same as usual."

(Then I guess I'm imagining it.)

Prince Gilbert spreads his arms and hugs me tightly.

His body temperature was low to begin with, but he was horribly cold, probably due to being in the snow.

Gilbert: "You know? You haven't changed."

Emma: "It's not that, you're too cold!"

Gilbert: "Huh."

I hastily slip out of his arms and pull a blanket from the owner's lounge.

Emma: "Sit back in that chair and use this."

Gilbert: "I'm fine."

Emma: "It was definitely not a normal body temperature."

Gilbert: "You're such a softie."   //   "You're a good-natured person."

With a troubled laugh, Prince Gilbert obediently sits on a chair and pulls the blanket over him.

It was a strange time.   //   It was an odd time.

(... What should I do? I unintentionally gave him a blanket... )

Emma: "Once again, I am at your service."   //   "Once again, I would like to ask about your request." **

Gilbert: "It seems I can't say "I missed you" even if I wanted to, right?"

Emma: ". . . . ."

Gilbert: "It can't be helped. Let's cut to the chase."

(I knew there was another purpose.)

Prince Gilbert takes a leather bag from his pocket and puts it in my hand.

Emma: "This is…?"

Gilbert: "This much would be enough for today's bookstore sales..... No, you'd have about a month's worth of sales."

(What? No way…)

When I untied the string and checked the contents of the bag, I found it filled with a dazzling amount of gold coins.

Emma: "You can't do this!"

Gilbert: "Did you forget me before we met?"

Gilbert: "You only have two choices, take it or be taken."

(I was.)

Gilbert: "I want your time."

Emma: "My time?"

Gilbert: "I'm looking for someone. You seem to know your way around town pretty well."

Gilbert: "You'll do me a favor, won't you...?"

»»———-Part 1┋Part 2┋Part 3┋His POV———-««

[moririki]

⤷ A BLOODSTAINED CONFESSION

RENGOKU KYOJURO X READER -> 3.6K
you patch up your fellow hashira after the hardest fight of your lives

REQUEST -> ✰
CONTAINS -> MUGEN TRAIN SPOILERS like before the cut and everything, mentions of blood + gore, so kinda angsty but definitely a fluffy ass ending, reader is a hashira but it's left ambiguous as to what element you are👍, i watched the movie two months ago so my recollection of dialogue and plot may be *slightly* off, near-death experience, idk how to write combat so i just... didn’t, reader lowkey thirsts over rengoku's back muscles and shit because why tf not, idk how injuries work aaaa
MORI'S THOUGHTS -> rengoku my beloved,,, he deserves the world,, i think i should have made this less angsty im SORRY (i rlly heard "extra fluffy" and it just went 👩🏻➡️ straight through my head huh) also i bet you guys missed me and my late-ass posting <3 but here i am!! for now!! yeahhhh!! i feel like the writing in this got a little repetitive so i apologise for that

APPARENTLY, THE DESTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE TRAIN wasn't enough to end this mission. even with one lower six demon defeated, another much stronger one had replaced it. the arrival of akaza was a significant turning point in the battle, and one that you cursed yourself for missing.

you should have known that this mission would he more dangerous than expected when both you and rengoku had been deployed to the train, alongside three rookies. you should have known better than to let rengoku convince you to stay back and help evacuate rather than let him handle it alone.

he had been so full of confidence- squeezing your hand firmly before rushing off, leaving you feeling slightly lightheaded from the brief contact of his warm palm. you should have wished him luck, told him to be careful, anything, but he was gone before you had the chance.

you made quick work of evacuating the passengers of the derailed train, making sure that they were all confirmed to be outside of the carriages before entrusting their safety to zenitsu and nezuko. it was around when you had carried out the last passenger that you felt the ground rumble beneath your feet, coming from the other side of the embankment that you were currently placed at. 

before you gave yourself time to really think things through, you were shouting instructions to the pair of demon slayers and dashing off towards the source of the noise, hand readily placed on your sword. that was the direction that rengoku ran is all that went through your mind.

the scene that you found yourself facing did little to quell your fears. you reached two bodies first, recognising them as the hapless figures of inosuke and tanjiro. from a glance you could see the extent of their injuries, with the latter laying on the ground barely conscious. the boar-headed one could only stare at the fight happening several metres away, his shoulders slumped in defeat and swords hanging by his sides.

“there’s no opening,” he only whispered, barely audible. that much was true. even you had difficulty keeping up with the movements of rengoku and the demon that he was fighting. the fact that it had already been several minutes and that there was no clear advantage concerned you, and you unsheathed your sword.

“you two stay put, and learn what it means to be a hashira, alright?” you tried offering a brilliant smile, much like you had seen the flame hashira do so many times, but you hoped that yours didn't fall flat. from the slight relief shown on tanjiro’s worn face, though, you took that as a good sign.

without wasting another second, you rushed towards rengoku and the demon, assessing their movements. inosuke wasn’t joking when he said there wasn’t any opening, their movements equally matched. you took the chance and struck when rengoku managed to get the demon to stumble back. bringing your sword down in a vertical strike, you severed one of its arms, before taking a cursory glance back at rengoku to make sure that he was alright.

your wound did little to hinder the demon, as it simply chuckled before regrowing its limb.

“oh? another hashira? don’t tell me you think that this is a fair match,” the demon sneered as you held your sword in front of you, still nervously eyeing the blood that was beginning to drip at rengoku’s feet. it amazed you as to how he was still standing, let alone also ready to keep fighting, but you weren’t going to stop him with that amount of determination in his eyes.

“i wouldn’t say that you appearing after we had to fight an entire train was fair either, but here we are,” you glared at the demon, adjusting the grip on your sword.

“think you can hold on a little longer?” you asked rengoku, still facing the demon.

“always.” you could picture the steadfast smile on his face, lending you his strength whenever you needed it. you took a deep breath, starting your total concentration breathing and launching off of your foot, propelling yourself forwards.

you heard rengoku's footsteps right behind you, dependable as ever. when you swung your sword and sliced through, you knew that the flame hashira was there to follow through with a co-ordinated attack.

despite your best efforts, the upper six demon lived up to its status and provided to be more than a challenge for even both you and rengoku fighting him simultaneously. in fact, akaza had even managed to gain the upper hand a few times, leaving you with a cracked rib that was making it more difficult to focus and control your breathing.

but you and rengoku's big break arrived in the form of a rising sun that leeched itself into your surroundings. the glow was nothing but welcomed by you, though your demon opponent let fear flicker across its face for the first time this night as it turned foot and fled. the invisible adrenaline-fuelled strings that held you up snapped, and you felt the strength from your body sap, too spent to gove chase to akaza.

the bitter taste of defeat crushed you, numbing your senses as you barely heard the cries of tanjiro as he yelled at the retreating figure of akaza. you turned to your fellow yashira, eyes widening and senses returning as you took in the way he had slumped to the floor, head bowed as he kneeled.

"no, don't you dare," you mumbled, dropping to your knees too in front of him. panic gave your limbs a new purpose as your hands stretched out in front of you, seeking out the warmth rengoku still emitted even when mortally wounded.

the most pressing matter was the dark stain of blood that gave his uniform an unnatural sheen that was still spreading. you pressed a hand to the source of it, a large gash across his stomach that was much too deep for your liking. your other hand came to rest on his face, tilting his head up to look at you for any sort of good sign to cling onto.

"you better stay alive!" your voice was shrill, harsher than you wanted it to be, but those were factors you could hardly control more than the blood oozing from rengoku's stomach. you could see how unfocused his eyes were, and how heavy his head was when only being propped up by the waning strength in your hand. your own injuries had been forgotten, cast aside in favour for you to fear for the flame hashira's life.

and still, despite everything, the man still smiled. the blood covering half his face did little to mar its radiance. rengoku raised a shaking, bloody hand of his own, letting it fall heavy against your own as you felt your hold begin to slip.

"you're hurt too, you know." his words were more of a shaky exhale, though you heard it all the same. you felt a smile slip onto yours too as rengoku proved to still be so vigilant in the wellbeing of others.

"you don't need to remind me, shut up and save your energy," you whispered back. you didn't trust yourself to speak any louder in fear of your voice cracking.

"but.. i have to tell you something." the insistence in his eyes was back, burning into you so mich that you couldn't help but lean closer, trying to ease his burden of being audible.

"quit talking like you're dying." you were practically whispering into his ear, close enough to feel the rasp of his breath as he laughed, holding your hand tighter. his other hand came up to your own face, rough thumb brushing against the skin underneath your eye, wiping away a tear you never realised had tracked its way there.

"let me bandage you up." your voice may not have shook, but your hands definitely did as you disentangled them from rengoku's hold, urging him to put pressure on his wound while your fingers found purchase on the hem of your uniform and ripped off a strip of it. it was barely enough to cover his injury but you managed to wrap the severed cloth around his middle a few times, tying it tight and hoping that it was enough to stop the bleeding.

"just.. stay with me until backup comes, alright? you've got tell me something once we get out of here, remember?" rengoku nodded into your palm, smiling at your words as his eyelids fluttered shut. but you were close enough to still feel that he was warm, to feel the slight rise and fall of his chest as he managed to still breathe, and that gave you some comfort.

minutes felt like hours when you had to talk to fill the gap. whether it was to give rengoku something that tethered him to this mortal realm, or a way for you to distract yourself from your own pain, you onew that you would both have to tough it out a little longer, just until the others arrived.

"you know, i've always admired you." you were surprised at both his words and how clear rengoku's voice sounded. your grip on his hand tightened a little, and you leaned towards him so that your forehead pressed against his.

"this is hardly the time to say something like that, kyojuro." you tried not to laugh, the pain of your ribs starting to edge back in as the adrenaline left your body as the sun soaked your bodies.

"i just wanted you to know." you would have responded to the man if it weren't for the shouts that became all too clear. help was here, and everything was going to be okay now.

you didn't want to let rengoku out of your sight, but many insistent hands prised his body from your grip, and with barely the strength to speak there was little that you could do about it except succumb to the pain of your wounds and finally fall unconscious.

recovery was never an aspect of fighting that you looked forward to. when you finally came to, there were a few gripping moments of panic when you asked a nurse if rengoku was here, if he was alive. you had been assured that he was before the pain and medication kicked in again for a fitful sleep as your body healed.

but no matter how you were pressed back into bed, into the constraints of sleep, you never really felt like you were at rest. your mind was still racing to places your body couldn't as it pieced together the events just before you got hospitalised.

when you could finally get up without keeling over, you were stumboing your way through the hallways as stealthily as possible, leaning on walls for support and peering into rooms as you walked past, in search of your fellow hashira. your cards of luck had lined up when you stumbled upon his sleeping figure less than three rooms down from yours.

he looked a lot cleaner, still donning a serene smile even when unconscious and you felt the panic gripping your body loosen its hold. the throb of your most likely broken ribs was enough of an edge to keep you awake, and you made your way over to rengoku's bedside.

there was a convenient chair placed next to him, and you tried not to grunt in pain as you sat down in it. rengoku didn't even stir at your approach, and you resigned yourself to sitting there, studying his figure and resisting the urge to check whether he was actually breathing or not. if you focused enough, you saw the subtlest rise and fall of his chest, just enough to qualm your fears.

your concentration was broken as you heard the sliding door open again, and the hesitant voice of a nurse breaking your intense silence.

"ah, i'm sorry to interrupt but i need to change rengoku's bandages." to prove her point, the nurse raised her arm to emphasise the strips of fabric held by them. you stood up hastily, sending a cursory glance back at the still-sleeping form of rengoku.

like all matters regarding the flame hashira, you found your mouth and body working a little faster than your brain.

"it's alright, i can change them for you. i'm sure that you have plenty of other patients to tend to." the nurse nodded, though she still looked hesitant to hand you the bandages. you gave her a reassuring smile, stretching out your hand to take them. "i've had plenty of experience with this, don't worry."

the nurse appeared relieved, giving you a quick thanks before exiting and letting the door click shut behind her.

you turned your attention back to rengoku's sleeping figure only to watch him crack a single amber eye open and give you an almost sheepish smile. you couldn't help the flooding sensation of relief that drenched your bones, and you returned his gesture.

"i'm glad to see that you're alright." rengoku's eyes never left yours, and you felt yourself grow hot underneath his gaze.

"glad to see you too." you offered a hand, helping rengoku shuffle further up the bed with minimal effort on your side. despite the bandages covering a large expanse of his upper body, his grip on your hand was still stable and you bit back the fond smile threatening to bloom on your face.

luckily for you, rengoku seemed to get the message that he needed to get shirtless without you asking him, which saved you a whole lot of embarrassment. you weren't confident in your ability to look him in the eye and ask him to strip without blushing, though you did exactly that as your eyes raked over his bare skin.

littered with scars and covering taut muscle, it was hard not to let your eyes wander down his form. from the look on rengoku's face, he looked well aware of the effect that he had on you and fixing you with a practically imperceptible smirk. you were quick to ask him to turn around, and he obliged as quickly as someone with broken and bruised bones could manage.

his back was the same story, with broad shoulders and defined shoulderblades that had muscle twitching without you touching it. you sucked in a breath, way too audible for your liking, and tried not to let your hand stretch out to run your fingers down the expanse of his back. you were here to help treat him, not indulge in some fantasy of yours.

your mindset snapped back to professionalism as you grabbed hold of the fresh bandages, opting to put them on after you removed the old ones. while there was no sign of infection, you still grimaced at the bloody sight of rengoku's major wound. you tried not to show how much it had upset you, both now and in the moment, and your attention turned to your slightly trembling fingers.

you were careful to avoid where his skin was obviously discoloured from bruising, not wanting to cause him any unnecessary pain. he was warm to the touch, enough to invite you in with some false sense of confort before burning you alive. the way his back muscles jumped at your touch did little to help your concentration, but you shouldered on.

your mingld escaped you, insisting on recounting those painful minutes where rengoku was vpeeding out on the battlefield. there was a particular focus on his insistence to tell you something, and you bit your lip. surely, he would ask you at some point from now.

"how are your ribs?" rengoku's voice cut through the silence, its rasping edge acting as evidence of hiw soundly he had been sleeping earlier. while it wasn't the question you wanted him to ask you, you were never one to turn down conversation. especially from him.

"worry about yourself, kyojuro. i'm fine." your appliance of the fresh bandage meant that you would now have to be stood in front of him, a development that had your face flaming from the close proximity. silence set in, and all that distracted you from the rise and fall of his stomach was his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. your eyes flickered towards the ceiling, relying on your hands to guide yourself instead.

you dared to glance down and saw rengoku’s eyes fixed on your face already. there was something about his softened features and the look in his eyes that had you scrambling to stare at the blank ceiling again. as much as you would like to retreat at every first sign if danger or confrontation, you knew that you woukd have to talk to him soon, whether it was you or him who brought up the conversation topic from that day.

taking a deep breath, you perched yourself on the edge of rengoku's bed, still maintaining a professional amount of distance from him. still close enough to spot how his smile brightens when you choose to stay. you glanced down at your fingers, twisting knots into themselves as they were placed in your lap. you almost cursed and placed them underneath you to stop that, but instead you fixed your gaze on the flame hashira's ever-present smile.

"do you remember when you said you had to tell me something? right after akaza?" rengoku straightened up a little, nodding. you gave a cursory glance to the bandages safely wrapped around him, and winced as you remembered how much blood had left him that day. 

as if he could tell what you were thinking, rengoku reached forward and took your hand in his. you sucked in a breath at the sensation of his calloused hands, wincing as your ribs ached in protest. you couldn’t bring yourself to break his stare as your fingers intertwined, and rengoku brought you slightly closer to him. the tension was palpable, and you squeezed his hand in an attempt to alleviate some of it.

“what did you want to tell me, kyojuro?” you were still closing the distance between the two of you, voice barely above a whisper because there was no need to talk any louder for him to hear you. everything about him drew you closer, and the thought of pulling away never crossed your mind. you finally stopped, inches away, staring at him expectantly.

“well, there was a chance that i was going to die that day, so i was going to be selfish and tell you that i love you."

it amazed you how he could say that with such confidence when that statement had effectively swept you off of your feet. you were well aware that you looked more than caught off guard- your eyes had widened, and your mouth probably hung open from shock. that was nothing to stop rengoku’s words, though. if anything, it only encouraged him to keep going.

"and when i said that i admire you, i meant it. i admire your strength and how willing you are to help others. i admire you when it's sunset and you're laughing and i admire the way your hands feel, especially here." he guided your hand to his face, letting it cradle his cheek as he rested his own hand at your wrist, not willing to let go. you were sinking into the warmth of his body, letting his borrowed strength keep you upright.

“and most of all, i admire you because i find your beauty striking in everything that you do.” you were silent as rengoku’s eyes searched your own, watching as his lips split as he laughed. “you’re crying again.” you raised your other hand to your cheekbone, feeling the liquid there that began its trek down the planes of your face. you wiped them away with the back of your hand, keeping yourself anchored to rengoku as you curled your fingers around his own.

you felt so light that you could float away, and you couldn’t  help but laugh and grin as you fully processed the confession of the man lying underneath you. tears still rolled down your cheeks, and you couldn’t help the bittersweet pang as you remembered exactly why he was here recovering.

“you really scared me back there, you know?”

“it wasn’t my intention.” you laughed through your sniffle, feeling his warm hand trace patterns on the back of yours. you shuffled forwards and, as best as your shared injuries allowed it, you gave rengoku a hug. while your arms were around his neck, his rested squarely on your lower back, and it was better than anything else you could imagine.

you pulled away, relinquishing the comfort of his arms in favour of looking him in the eye as you prepared what to say next. admittedly, it was a lot easier when you knew how the other person felt about you.

“you know i admire you too, rengoku, and i love you. so much.” joy rewrote itself within his eyes, and they almost glowed with how intense his emotions were after you uttered those words.

“you do?”

your yes came out as a barely audible breath before you were being snagged forwards by him again. you practically crashed against his lips, but you welcomed the sensation, pulling yourself closer to him and settling on his lap.

you sighed into the searing kiss, only truly appreciating his warmth now as you felt it spread through you. you kissed him back intensely, ignoring the dull ache of your ribs to chase the addictive feeling that you only got around him.

around the person who loved you back.

take a look at the menu - ,, ⛩ ·˚ ༘ ꒱

[toseeclearly]

i deleted everything by accident

I deleted everything by accident, and now I am grieving.

It's not that these things were important, technically. I deleted a tumblr I barely used or looked at; a place where I would start to write a post, get cold feet, and then leave it in the drafts until I no longer wanted to do anything with it. That's all it was, a graveyard to things I was never going to complete, ideas I'd given up on, plans I never followed through with.

But still, the day they rip the memorial down is still sad, and you'll forever walk by that lamp post and remember that, at one point, there were flowers here.

So I guess I just... use this how I used to use the internet: like a diary. I was once a dedicated blogger, back in the days when being a "blogger" had some sort of caché (I think if you said that now, someone would assume you were using some sort of throwback term, like asking aloud if anyone knew of a video store they could check out. Are there any video stores left? I don't know, and I don't feel like googling right now). I wanted to be a writer, a blogger, I wanted to be like all the cool teens I followed who had custom webpages with sections where they'd post about their thoughts and other sections for cool things they did with their friends. I wanted to be their friend and be posted on their cool blog! But this was the early 2000s, where the only way to contact these people was to either stalk a forum they might be on, or email them directly, and both of those always felt unappealing. So instead, I wrote about my life and my friends, read my friends blogs, hoped to be cool enough to be included. Hundreds of posts, stories and essays and quiz results and absolutely atrocious poetry, we wrote so much, I wrote so much. And all of it is gone, now. Blogs long deleted, websites no longer active, everything lost to digital decay. Or, if you're me, you delete your tumblr by accident while massively tired and only realise too late what you've done. More decay, more insignificant pieces of the web burned away. I'm the only one who cares, but that's fine. I can... rebuild. Or just use this space for my own terrible navel gazing.

I write a lot. I have a fair amount of published work, but I also write a lot that never sees the light of day (and probably never should, mostly for quality control issues). I spent a lot of nights writing Parkdale Haunt, a lot of very late evenings hammering out page after page after page until my eyes hurt and my brain was trying to escape my skull, but it felt good. It was a good time. There's several episodes where I wrote the first draft in a complete haze, like when you're running a marathon (NOTE: I have never run a marathon, but like, stick with me here, I'm just extrapolating from my time as a long distance runner) (SECOND NOTE: I hated long distance running and quit to focus on sprinting and hurdling, which I loved, because sprinting is designed for people who want all their endorphins RIGHT NOW and hurdling is designed for masochists, and the 400m hurdles is the perfect race if you just want to punish yourself for any feeling of hubris that you've ever had in your entire curséd life) and you're just zoning out and pushing through any thought you might have that says hey man, what if you just - oh, I don't know - lied down on that patch of grass over there? Yeah, that would be sick as fuck. Writing feels like that for me sometimes, like hey, wouldn't it be nice to just go to bed? Yeah, bed is good. But then I would look down and there'd be 15 pages in front of me, and I'd feel... great. And also exhausted and vaguely headachy, but great. Then I would just spam Emily and/or Ian with screenshots of scenes at random times. Being in my vicinity means you're getting unhinged screenshots at some point.

So I've been writing again. I've got two scripts going for a new show, here's to hoping it works out. And I guess I can write here when I need/want to procrastinate. I don't have much of a footprint left after I threw my fucking shoes in the ocean.

All this has done is made me miss hurdling.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 8 of ?)

gif by @thesoldiersminute can i send you a cake or something cause fuCk!!!!!!!!!!! he's beautiful

a/n: to everyone still reading this fic, my sweet angels, ily!! this fic is so near and dear to my heart and @stxdyblr-2k has just done such an amazing job with it i can't even thank her enough. as per the last part, this one is also mostly her, just me editing but i hope you guys love it as much as i did!!! don't worry, there's gonna be a lot more :) and i apologize for being not as active, i'm gonna try to get a couple of requests up that i'm really excited about this week tysm for being patient with me <3

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five six seven | my masterlist

prompt: ada has some talking to do, and you're not about to deny her.

warnings: fluff, semi-angst, tommy being the cocky mf he is (let's be real, it's only acceptable cause he's so damn fine), john being cute and in love and jesus i am head over heels

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03, @operation-spot

You had planned to go to Ada's after work, but she obviously had other ideas. She didn't even bother walking in and asking to speak to you; instead, choosing to bang on the window closest to your desk and yelling at you to "fucking hurry up!" Your boss opened the door for you expectantly, not offering you any protection; he was firmly in the Shelby's ever growing pocket and as long as he could go home to his children, his sickly wife and their six bed in the country, with a full time nurse and nanny, he had no interest in crossing Thomas.

"Ada, I was coming to see you after work, I swear."

"I know. I was going to let you but..." She trailed off. "We need to talk. I don't know what the fuck is going on with you. John said he'd seen you last night and you asked after me."

John had indeed seen you last night. It was strange waking up with him, used to leaving almost immediately after he was finished with you. Your small bed could barely comfortably fit you both, having to intertwine your limbs with John's to not fall off the edge. You had awoken to John pressing a kiss to your forehead before lazily trailing his fingers between your legs, waiting for you to open your eyes before settling between your thighs, tongue swirling around your clit, making you cum before sunrise.

"Do we have to do this in the street?" You practically begged, the shouting having attracted onlookers.

"I wanted to talk to you before anyone else in the family gets to you because I need you to be honest."

"Ada-"

"No, I'm doing you a favour here, so you fucking listen. Right now, between you and I, no bullshit. No tactics. No white lies. You have to tell me exactly what we're dealing with." She looked frantic, scared for some reason.

You nodded, walking her down the side street, careful not to link arms with her. You knew she was doing you a favour; this wasn't about forgiveness or friendship, much more was at stake here.

"To what extent was Thomas involved?"

That took you off guard. Ada read the confusion on your face and sighed impatiently, her subtle plea for you to keep up.

Shit. You remembered your conversation with John, how she thought this was her brother's way of pushing her out of the company.

"Don't spare my feelings. What did my brother say to you?"

"He said it was in our mutual interest that you didn't find out. He didn't care who John slept with but cared who you trusted so I had to trust him. He said there was no point in upsetting you over one of John's conquests who he'd tire of in a month."

"That all?"

"Pretty much, I didn't know Arthur knew. He never talked to me about it, did laugh at Thomas' digs now that I think on it-"

"Did you know Isaiah and Michael knew?"

"I thought they were aware but no one ever talked to me about it."

"Of course they wouldn't." She hissed, frustration causing a nerve on her neck to jump.

Ada and you had spoken for years about the rampant misogyny of her brothers and any men you two came into contact with. Although you were both far more reserved than you used to be as rebellious and adventurous thirteen year olds, you'd both grew increasingly angry at how you were treated. She'd long written off her brothers as womanisers, who saw women as purely sexual and entertaining, objectifying them. You both long despised how they dehumanised women. She was amazed that Thomas had attempted to settle down and managed a somewhat loving marriage, but resented him for his carelessness and need for power which inevitably killed his wife.

"Ada, I just want to say..." You licked your lip nervously, unsure of how to continue.

"You need to talk, Y/N. No bollocks."

"Before last night, he'd never been to mine or called. I always went to him."

The muscle in her jaw tensed.

"You slept with him last night then?" You met her question with silence and she rolled her eyes. "The second he said he saw you I knew you had, he wanted to tell me that he was going to continue seeing you and that he hoped I'd be able to accept it one day."

"We never intended to hurt you. It was meant to be fun at first, but now..." You cut yourself off with a sigh, unable to admit you'd fallen for her brother.

"Isn't fun for me. It's fucking embarrassing." She paused, lighting a cigarette, nervous to offer you one, conflicted within herself. She raised her eyebrow, prompting you to continue, the mannerism so similar to her brother’s.

"It should never have happened. I am never going to be able to fix this, I'm so fucking ashamed for doing this to you, Ada."

She sulked, silently drinking in your words.

"Obviously it's not going to be the same, yeah? I'm really fucking upset. I'm so fucked off with you but Poll's really worried about a coup. She thinks you're being used as blackmail against John to keep him on side with Tommy while he expands."

"Makes sense."

"You're part of a much bigger game, you know?"

You nodded. "Yeah, and I knew I would lose from the start. Fucking tragic, Ada."

"My brothers keep pushing, keep growing the business. They keep chasing this prize but I don't think it even exists."

"If it does, it isn't worth it if this shit is the cost. I didn't mean to play into his hands."

"You couldn't have known." She said with a shrug, " 'Siah thinks John loves you."

"He told me last night." Several times, this morning also. You would never tire of hearing him moan those words into your neck or being yelled from your front door as he left for the office.

"You love him, don't you?" She said bluntly, a statement more than a question, your face suddenly hot with embarrassment.

Everything you'd suppressed for months, everything that you'd hidden, every time you lied smiling, every knowing glance from a stranger, every degrading comment from under Thomas' breath.

"I do, an awful lot."

She pauses, relighting her cigarette, "The worst thing about the entire situation is it could've been fine if someone told me. I wouldn't have loved it, obviously, but-" Ada sighed, rubbing her temple with her free fingers.

"I thought you'd hate me."

"How could I? I'd be more angry that you'd drop your standards for my brother. Seriously? Him? Mate…."

"Come off it, I've always thought he was charming. He's funny, smart-"

"Don't gush over my brother, it's grim. I'm just so fucked off you all lied to me." She peered at you through her cigarette smoke. "If you love him and he loves you..." she pressed her lips together as she tensed her jaw, "I could get over it. If it'd make you both happy. But that's going to take a long time. A long time."

"Ada-"

"Look I have meetings and shit to sort, I have to run." She interjected, checking her wristwatch, adjusting the cap which sat atop her trendy short haircut. You caught her arm before she could turn away.

"Thank you. For understanding."

She shrugged you off, "I don't get it, I'd never do that to you. But you also don't get to choose who you're attracted to. I'm really hurt, but I do love you and John a lot. He mentioned that after last night you helped him, got him cleaned up. I have to believe that you both do love each other. So I have to believe that this is a good idea for you both and not stand in your way."

"I love you, Ada. Can we hang out soon, just us two?"

She shook her head. "I need some time, I'll be in touch, yeah?"

You nod, stretching out your pinky finger. She sighed and linked it with hers, as you'd done since you were children, a silent signal to each other after a fight that you still had the other's back.

"Right, I've got to get back to this meeting, Tom is getting done by Polly for nearly getting John killed. I need to be there in case one of the lads needs patching up."

"Your aunt has a nasty left hook, I'll give her that."

"She'll be pleased you think so, she wanted Tommy to slice you to bits for crossing me."

"Fuck’s sake, thanks for the warning, I'll keep my head down. Good luck with the meeting."

Ada nodded and you watched her walk away, a Blinder suddenly appearing by her side seemingly from nowhere. This city was crawling with them. They clambered into Ada's car as you watched the car disappear into the distance before walking back to work. Thankfully, with your head still attached to your shoulders.

*******

Ada arrived at Thomas' estate, following the swell of shouting voices to his exquisite library. It was eye roll worthy and typical Tommy to choose the location of his post-fuckup debrief to be where he had the best view of the gardens, river and rolling hills. She could bet he'd sit in a corner and stare at the view, zoning out their aunt's lecture.

An armed blinder she vaguely recognised opened the door. Thomas was making a statement today with the armed guards, she noted. Her brothers really were fucked up. Arthur was an alcoholic killer who couldn't understand that Thomas would betray them all eventually, Finn was letting the tokyo and the razor chasers that circled him distract him from keeping the family together, John was apparently in love with her best friend, and finally, Thomas nearly got Arthur and John murdered last night with his foolishness. At this point only herself and Polly were holding everyone together, keeping everything silently moving along.

The door opened, and she was the last to arrive, Polly glaring as she murmured an apology, standing next to Finn. His eyes were bloodshot, grey-purple smudges under his eyes, he'd obviously had a heavy night. The last thing the poor lad needed was Polly's shrill yelling and the blinding sun streaming through the large immaculately crafted windows, which he'd tried to block with the brim of his cap. John caught her eye, acknowledging his sister with a nod, which she returned with a small tight smile.

Ada couldn't bear to think about the reasoning behind her brother's smug interjections in between Polly's rant to Thomas who was listening wordlessly, smoking.

Y/N and John? It didn't make sense. They had a similar sense of humour, sure, but she was far too intelligent for him. He also had a swarm of children, while Y/N preferred a wild night out only staggering home at daybreak.

It made far more sense for Y/N to end up with Michael, or if it had to be a brother, Finn. They were younger, so had less responsibilities and commitments so they could keep up with her. But John? Of course she knew he was believed to be the Casanova of her brothers, he was kind, he was an excellent father, yet he could never keep anyone around long, usually John was chasing someone new after a month or so. That's why the revelation that John had been involved with her best friend for almost half a year had taken her completely by surprise. Maybe that was why she was open to them being together. That had to be it. This relationship was completely out of character for John; she needed to believe that he was serious about his feelings towards Y/N and wasn't going to fuck her over. Because if he did, John would be a dead man.

"I don't know why you're all bleating at me. Yeah, I overlooked some details in the planning of last night's meeting-"

"Such as warning us that they were really fucked off because you'd helped bomb their warehouse." John pointed out.

"What do you want me to do? Apologise? Grow up, John." Tommy snapped back.

"They had loaded guns against their heads, they deserve an apology." Ada interjected, John giving her an appreciative flash of smile. She did love her big brother. Despite the fact that she'd pretty much only been yelling at him for the past month, John never dismissed her feelings and only apologised. It was confusing to admit to herself, but when Isaiah told her that he was confident John loved Y/N, she felt a wave of relief. At least he cared about her; it was the bare minimum but the Shelbys were notorious for not even meeting the bare minimum for acceptable social interactions.

"They didn't fuckin’ get shot." Thomas stated, his voice matter of fact and condescending.

"Do you ever hear yourself speak?" Polly spit back at him. "They didn't get shot this time. But it was too fucking close."

"It won't happen again, Polly." Tommy sighed. "What else can I say? Sorry lads, take the weekend off?"

"It's a good start." Arthur countered, "You're also paying for the extension on my house and my wedding."

"Fuck’s sake Arthur I was joking. But fine. Sure."

"You can't buy your family off." Polly scoffed at him.

"Think of it as compensation, a settlement." Thomas coolly corrected his aunt. "What do you want, John? A fucking farm?"

John hesitates while Finn whispered suggestions to him, Ada meeting his stare, John raising a brow to her in question. She sighed and nodded her approval.

"You can pay off my mortgage Tom, give me the kids' birthdays off-"

"So you'd never come into work then?" Finn cut in, Ada elbowing him in the ribs. She usually enjoyed Finn's remarks but she knew where John was heading; she could barely breathe.

"Tom, you're also to leave Y/N completely alone. If you have a problem with her, you come to me about it." He said firmly.

Arthur and Tommy traded knowing looks, obviously more aware of the ins and outs of his relationship than Ada was.

"Also if you're paying for Arthur's wedding I want the equivalent in cash." He adds.

Tommy shrugged. "Whatever. As long as we can move past last night and focus on today's order of business."

John nodded, satisfied. He knew Tom wouldn't care, but just saying out loud that he was involved with Y/N and having his family aware was a relief. He hadn't realised until he finally admitted how stressful keeping his relationship a secret was. Now, he could stop worrying about Tommy interfering.

Polly rolled her eyes, lecturing the brothers on their lack of moral backbone to allow themselves to be bought off, but dismissed them. She caught Ada's arm in hers on their way out, pulling her far from earshot.

"So Y/N and John are together now?" She asked, her face firm and scowling.

"Polls, I talked with her, she's aware of what she's done. She apologised and meant it. What more can I ask for?"

"Her not to have fucked him in the first place."

"She said that. Look, Polls, they're happy right? John seems happy-"

"He always is when he gets a leg over."

"You know she looked after him last night? Fixed him up after the meeting."

"Meeting? It was a fucking set up." Polly hissed but her face had softened. "She cleaned him up?"

"Antiseptic, bandages and all."

Polly looked subtly impressed, although she'd never admit it. "He went to hers? Not yours?"

"He wanted to talk to her." Ada shrugs, "I saw her this morning and-"

"What do you mean? You bumped into her?"

"I went to her work." Ada admitted, her aunt shooting her an exasperated glare.

"Why do I bother? Nobody listens to me."

"I had to talk to her, I'm glad I did. She reckons she loves him, he told her last night that he loves her, so..."

"We are talking about John? Our John?"

"I know Polls, I'm as amazed as you."

Her aunt huffed, unimpressed. "Are you okay with it though?"

"I guess, I just want them to be happy. I've told them to give me time with it."

"She was a good friend growing up, but people change, sometimes for the better, often for the worse."

"Poll, it's Y/N; she's my best friend. At the end of the day, we'd do anything for each other."

"Sweet Ada, you're going to be so miserable if you keep letting people walk all over you." Polly said wisely, kissing her goodbye affectionately. "I hope you're right. If she makes you cry again I'll kill her myself."

"Thanks, Polls."

She knew her aunt wasn't joking.