rinyukiliv

[rinyukiliv]

"Gemma never liked other queens in her castle."

That's what Happy had muttered under his breath, watching from across the clubhouse as two forces of nature sized each other up like predators deciding who owned the territory.

The first time they met, Gemma smiled.

It didn't reach her eyes.

She swept into the room like she owned it — which, to be fair, she basically did. Every inch of Teller-Morrow, every corner of SAMCRO, every breath her son took was territory Gemma Teller had claimed through blood, manipulation, and sheer force of will.

"So you're the one they're all talkin' about," she said, voice sweet as poison, smooth as whiskey that burned going down. Her gaze traveled over Roxy like she was cataloging weapons, looking for weaknesses. "Got Jax all twisted up. Brave girl."

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Brave — but not necessarily smart. Girl — not woman. Every syllable carefully chosen to establish the hierarchy.

Roxy smiled back — polite, poised, unreadable. The kind of smile Aunt Polly had perfected in smoky Birmingham parlors, where one wrong word could get your throat cut but the right one could topple empires.

Because where she came from, women fought wars with words before fists. They built alliances in drawing rooms and destroyed enemies over tea. They wore silk gloves to hide the blood under their fingernails.

And make no mistake — this was war.

"Mrs. Teller," Roxy said, extending her hand like a lady at court. "I've heard so much about you."

All of it true. None of it good.

The handshake lasted exactly three seconds too long. Gemma's grip was firm, testing. Roxy's was steady, unyielding. Two women taking each other's measure, calculating strike points and exit strategies.

Around them, the clubhouse had gone quiet. Not the obvious kind of quiet — conversations still hummed, pool balls still clicked, motorcycles still rumbled outside. But there was an undercurrent of attention, like everyone was holding their breath.

The boys listened when Roxy spoke. She'd earned that through competence, through taking a bullet for Abel, through proving she understood their world without needing it explained.

Clay saw opportunity in her mysterious connections, the way problems seemed to solve themselves when she made phone calls to numbers no one recognized.

Jax saw more than he wanted to admit — saw home in her eyes, saw understanding in the way she didn't flinch when he came back covered in blood, saw the future he'd stopped believing in.

And Gemma? Gemma saw a threat to everything she thought she owned.

"Jax speaks very highly of you," Gemma continued, settling into her usual spot like a queen claiming her throne. "Says you're... helpful."

Helpful. Like she was some club sweetbutt who ran errands and warmed beds. Like she hadn't orchestrated three separate exits from federal investigations through carefully placed phone calls. Like she hadn't neutralized a rival crew's entire weapons cache with a single text message.

"I do what I can," Roxy replied, taking the seat across from her. Not beside her — that would be submission. Not standing — that would be aggression. Exactly equal, exactly opposite. "Family takes care of family."

The word family hit like a gunshot. Because that's what this was really about, wasn't it? Gemma had spent decades building her dynasty, making herself indispensable, ensuring that everything and everyone Jax loved had to go through her first.

And here was Roxy — beautiful, dangerous, self-sufficient Roxy — who didn't need Gemma's approval, didn't seek her guidance, didn't bow to her authority. Who looked at Jax like he was worth saving instead of controlling.

But Roxy didn't come to take a crown. She hadn't spent eleven years in exile just to play queen of someone else's castle.

She came to stand her ground.

And if that meant going toe-to-toe with the queen of Charming? Well. Polly Gray had taught her how to win those battles a long time ago.

"Never let them see you sweat, love," Polly had said, straightening young Roxy's dress before her first real family meeting. "Smile like you know something they don't. And always — always — make them wonder what you're really thinking."

"Well," Gemma said finally, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. "Aren't you just full of surprises."

Roxy's smile never wavered. "You have no idea."

The war had begun.

In Charming, there are no saints — only sinners choosing who they'll bleed for.

No Saints in Charming | Sons of Anarchy x Peaky Blinders Crossover When queens collide, kingdoms fall

[rinyukiliv]

“She’d been playing the game so long, she almost forgot what it meant to trust someone.”

Here's an expanded version for Tumblr:

Roxy had lived a life of alliances. Everything was currency — names, favors, power. Information bought you breathing room. Silence bought you time. Blood bought you respect, but only if you spilled the right kind.

You gave trust sparingly, took it away quicker. That was the first lesson Tommy had taught her, back when she was still small enough to sit on his knee while he counted money and planned murders with equal care.

"Trust is a bullet, Roxy," he'd said, blue eyes cold as winter morning. "You only get to fire it once. Make sure you aim right."

She'd lived by that rule for twenty-six years. Had navigated the Blackwood empire, the American underworld, even the early days with SAMCRO by treating every relationship like a transaction. What did they want? What could she give? What would it cost her in the end?

But something about Jax was different.

He wasn't polished like the politicians her adoptive mother entertained. Wasn't careful like the criminals her father dealt with. Wasn't calculating like Tommy, measuring every word for maximum impact.

Jax Teller was raw honesty wrapped in leather and regret. He said what he meant and did what he said — no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it cost him.

When he'd told her about Tara, about the baby, about the life he'd thought he wanted, his voice had cracked with genuine pain. When he'd admitted he was scared of becoming Clay, scared of what the club was turning him into, there hadn't been an angle. No manipulation. No hidden agenda.

Just truth. Brutal, beautiful truth.

It had been like watching someone bleed voluntarily.

"Why'd you come back?" he asked now, voice rough from whiskey and exhaustion. They were sitting on his bike outside the clubhouse, the California night heavy around them like a blanket.

She could have lied. Should have lied. Could have said something about business, about the club, about needing to check on things after Abel's kidnapping. Safe answers that would keep her walls intact.

Instead, she found herself saying, "Because you didn't lie to me."

The words came out quiet but sure, like a confession she hadn't meant to make.

"That's worth more than anything I've ever been offered."

And it was true. In a world built on deception, where even her own name was a carefully constructed fiction, Jax's honesty was like finding water in the desert. Dangerous to drink too much, but impossible to resist.

She didn't know where this would end. Didn't know if Tommy would kill him when the truth came out. Didn't know if SAMCRO would survive learning what she really was. Didn't know if she'd survive it with her heart intact.

But she was tired of pretending. Tired of measuring every word, calculating every smile, treating love like a business transaction.

And with Jax Teller? She wanted at least one thing in her life that wasn't built on a lie.

Even if it killed her.

Especially if it killed her.

"Roxy—" he started, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Don't," she whispered. "Don't say anything you can't take back."

Because once they crossed this line, there would be no going back to safe alliances and careful transactions. There would only be truth, and consequences, and the kind of love that started wars.

And she was finally ready for the fight.

In Charming, there are no saints — only sinners choosing who they'll bleed for.

No Saints in Charming | Sons of Anarchy x Peaky Blinders Crossover Some truths are worth dying for

[rinyukiliv]

“SAMCRO wasn’t the first club to take her in. It might be the first to let her stay.”

Roxy didn't need a leather cut to know how clubs worked. She'd grown up in backrooms of Birmingham pubs, learned loyalty over whiskey and blood long before she could drink either.

The smell of cigarettes and motor oil was universal — whether it came from the Garrison or Teller-Morrow. The sound of men planning violence in hushed tones, the weight of secrets that could get you killed, the unspoken rules that kept families breathing. She knew it all by heart.

But Charming wasn't Birmingham. SAMCRO wasn't the Peaky Blinders. And Jax Teller wasn't any man she'd met before.

In Birmingham, men like Tommy commanded through fear and calculation. Every smile was a weapon, every conversation a chess move three steps ahead. She'd watched her brother turn loyalty into an art form, watched him build an empire on the bones of anyone stupid enough to cross the Shelby name.

Jax was different. He wore his heart too close to the surface, carried guilt like a second skin. He questioned things Tommy never would. Should we do this? Is there another way? What's the cost?

It made him dangerous in ways Tommy never was. Made him human.

"You know how this ends, right?" Chibs asked her one night, cigarette glowing orange in the dark outside the clubhouse. The Scotsman had been watching her for weeks now, reading her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

She knew what he meant. Club girls came and went. Old ladies survived if they were smart and lucky. But women like her — women with their own power, their own secrets — they were wildcards. And wildcards had a way of exploding everything.

"I'm not here for the ending," she said, stubbing out her own cigarette. "I'm here because I chose to be."

And that's what scared her the most. For the first time in her twenty-six years, she wasn't following a carefully laid plan. Not Tommy's strategy, not the Blackwood family's long game, not even her own survival instincts.

She was following her heart.

And hearts — she'd learned from watching Aunt Polly navigate decades of Shelby chaos — were messy things to trust. They made you stupid. Made you soft. Made you choose love over logic, hope over experience.

Made you take bullets for babies that weren't even yours.

Made you call in favors that would blow your cover sky-high.

Made you fall for blue-eyed bikers who looked at you like you might be their salvation, when you knew damn well you might be their destruction instead.

"Aye," Chibs said quietly, and she could hear the understanding in his voice. "That's what I was afraid of."

Because choice was a luxury in their world. And luxury always came with a price.

In Charming, there are no saints — only sinners choosing who they'll bleed for.

No Saints in Charming | Sons of Anarchy x Peaky Blinders Crossover When worlds collide, secrets explode

[rinyukiliv]

“Her last name was Shelby. She just hadn’t said it yet.”

Roxanna Blackwood. That was the name she used in Charming — light enough to fly under the radar, familiar enough to make questions die on people's tongues.

But her real name carried weight. It opened doors. It closed others. It started wars, and ended them just as fast. Shelby wasn't something you said lightly, especially not when you were supposed to be dead to that world.

And now that secret was getting harder to carry.

She'd been fifteen when Tommy made the deal with the Blackwoods. "You'll be safer there," he'd said, lighting another cigarette in that calculated way of his. "And we'll have eyes in America when we need them."

What he hadn't said was that it would feel like exile. That she'd spend eleven years building a life on borrowed identity, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You didn't hesitate," Jax told her now, voice low, rough with the kind of gratitude that cut deeper than anger. "You took a bullet for my son."

She still felt the phantom ache where the vest had caught the round, still heard Abel's crying in her dreams. The bulletproof vest had saved her life, but lying unconscious while they took him anyway? That failure was going to haunt her.

She didn't meet his eyes. Couldn't.

Because if he knew who she really was — what kind of family she came from, what kind of blood ran in her veins — he'd never look at her the same again. The Peaky Blinders weren't just another gang. They were legends whispered in dark corners, the kind of people other criminals crossed streets to avoid.

And if Tommy found out what she felt for Jax? God help them both.

Her brother had a way of making problems disappear. Permanently.

"Abel's going to be okay," she said instead, fingers unconsciously tracing the razor blade tattoo behind her ear — the one she always kept hidden under her hair. "We're going to get him back."

Jax's hand found hers, and for a moment she let herself believe this could be simple. That she could be just Roxy, the woman who'd fallen for a man with kind eyes and a dangerous smile. Not Tommy Shelby's little sister. Not a weapon disguised as an ally.

But secrets had a way of exploding at the worst possible moments.

And hers was about to blow everything apart.

In Charming, there are no saints — only sinners choosing who they'll bleed for.

No Saints in Charming | Sons of Anarchy x Peaky Blinders Crossover Coming Soon

[rinyukiliv]

🖤 Scene Teaser | No Saints in Charming

“You Jax?” Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette with steady hands. “Good. Let me be clear about something — Roxy’s my sister. If you hurt her… you’ll regret it. And I don’t make idle threats.”

There was no yelling. No posturing.
Just Tommy Shelby standing with a smoke in his mouth and a promise in his voice.

Jax didn’t flinch, but he sure as hell listened.

“I’ve buried better men for less,” Tommy added, tone casual — deadly.

Roxy left Birmingham on her own terms.
She walked away from the family business, from violence dressed in velvet and blood-tied loyalty.
But she didn’t leave her brother’s protection behind.
And she sure as hell didn’t leave her last name.

“She’s stronger than all of us put together,” Tommy said, smoke curling from his lips. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t break.”

The warning hung in the air — sharp as a blade, quiet as a promise.

And Jax?

He took a long breath, eyes steady.
“I ain’t lookin’ to break her,” he said. Voice low, deliberate.
“But you should know — if someone tries… they’ll have to go through me first.”

Tommy studied him for a beat. No smile. No approval. Just the smallest nod — enough to say he heard him.

Because in this world? Words like that mattered more than any promise.

📌 No Saints in Charming — When two criminal empires collide, loyalty gets redefined.
Roxy chose her own path. Now Jax has to prove he belongs in it — without losing the war inside himself.

[rinyukiliv]

🖤 First-Line Teaser | No Saints in Charming

"Jax said there were no saints in Charming. Roxy never claimed to be one—she just made sure the devil bled first."

She wasn’t patched in. She didn’t wear the cut. But when the bullets started flying, she was the one standing between the kid and the barrel.

Roxy Blackwood didn’t grow up soft. She was born into a world of violence dressed in velvet. Taught to smile with blood on her hands and walk away clean.

But then she met Jax Teller. And for once, she didn’t want to walk away.

So when Abel was taken— She took the shot. Woke up without the kid, but with one hell of a reason to burn every name off the list that led to him.

She’s not in the club. She’s not bound by the rules. And that’s exactly what makes her dangerous.

💥 If you're ready for a Sons of Anarchy x Peaky Blinders crossover where one woman takes on SAMCRO, the IRA, and her own blood—tap that ❤️ and reblog to let me know you're in.

📌 No Saints in Charming — coming soon. Loyalty. Blood. And the woman who never stays down.

[rinyukiliv]

🖤 First-Line Teaser | No Saints in Charming

"The first time Roxy took a bullet for someone, she was seventeen and already knew better."

She didn’t grow up in a world where people got rescued.

She grew up in one where you handled it. Where you smiled at monsters and danced through rooms filled with billionaires who smiled back.

So when she met Jax Teller — all grit and grief and fire — she didn’t flinch. She saw him. Raw and reckless, sure. But real.

And when Abel was taken, she didn’t think. She threw herself between the gun and that boy. Took the hit. Didn’t break. Didn’t beg. Didn’t die.

She’s not a saint. Not in Charming. Not anywhere.

But she’s the one who came back for them all.

💥 If this story already has your heart, show me. Hit that ❤️. Reblog if you’re ready for bullets, backroom deals, Irish politics, and a woman who can handle the Shelbys and SAMCRO without losing herself.

📌 No Saints in Charming — coming soon

[rinyukiliv]

📢 Writing Schedule Update!

Hey everyone! Just wanted to share a quick update on how I’ll be posting stories from now on ✨

Instead of hopping between series at random, I’ve created a rotation to give each fic the love and attention it deserves — while also helping me stay consistent and avoid burnout.

I'll be starting with the stories that currently have fewer chapters to balance things out, then I’ll follow this schedule:

💋 Week 1 – Kamisama Kiss 🌸 The shrine is stirring again. Rukia steps into a world of gods, spirits, and tangled fate.

⚡ Week 2 – Pokémon 🗺️ Trainer Hikari journeys deeper into Johto, where old ties resurface and legends start to awaken.

🔥 Week 3 – Genshin Impact 🗡️ The mercenary returns to Liyue, navigating danger, politics, and powerful secrets between Zhongli and Tartaglia.

🗝️ Week 4 – Kingdom Hearts ✨ A Keyblade wielder moves closer to uncovering the truth — and finding a place of her own in the multiverse.

🍃 Week 5 – Naruto 🌙 Rukia’s story continues: raising Naruto, facing spirits, and walking the line between duty and love.

🌙 Week 6 – Sailor Moon 💫 A new guardian emerges under the moonlight. Rukia’s journey takes a magical, emotional turn.

🧬 Week 7 – My Hero Academia 💥 Quirks, chaos, and tangled feelings. Hikari's world keeps heating up with each twist of fate.

🔮 Week 8 – Tales of Symphonia & Tales of the Abyss 🎭 Two epic JRPG worlds collide in a closing chapter full of magic, choices, and destiny.

📌 Once every story has the same number of chapters, I’ll take a short break to work on some brand-new projects I’ve been planning behind the scenes (yes, they’re gonna be good 👀).

Thank you for being here. Your support truly means the world and is what keeps me going 💛 Feel free to reblog and share if you’re excited for what’s ahead!

[rinyukiliv]

“I’m not trying to break your heart, darlin’. I’m trying to keep someone else from doing it first.”

Roxanne knew something was off the second Rip asked to talk. He never asked. He just told.

But this time, he met her in the barn, arms crossed, leaning against the door like the words were already too heavy in his chest.

“I see the way you look at him,” Rip said. “Then you should see that he looks back,” she fired.

That’s when his jaw clenched.

“That’s exactly the problem.”

She didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to be told what she already knew — that Kayce Dutton was tangled in more than she’d ever be allowed to touch. Family. History. A wife. A life that didn’t have room for her.

“I’d rather see you with Ryan,” Rip said quietly. “Or hell, Travis. At least they wouldn’t leave you pickin’ up your own pieces.”

And then he did something she didn’t expect.

He handed Ryan a wad of cash and told him, “Take her out. Show her there’s more out there than men who don’t know what they want.”

Roxanne didn’t speak. She just stared at Rip, voice small.

“So what, I’m not allowed to love him?”

“You can,” Rip said. “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

And for once, Roxanne didn’t know what to say.

📌 A Yellowstone OC story about warnings spoken in love, choices made in silence, and the people who try to protect you—even if it breaks their heart to do it.

[rinyukiliv]

He told himself walking away was the right thing. So why did it feel like losing?”

Kayce’s never been good at staying away from the things that hurt him — or the things he might hurt.

And after what Rip said, maybe he should’ve walked away from Roxanne a long time ago.

“She deserves peace,” Rip told him. “Not another war in cowboy boots.”

So Kayce kept his distance. Stopped meeting her eyes across the corral. Stopped finding reasons to help with the horses she trained. Stopped showing up just to hear her sing when she thought no one was listening.

But staying away didn’t stop how he felt.

Not when she smiled at Ryan like he used to. Not when she rode off with Travis for another round of shows. Not when she hugged him like it was just a goodbye and not a goodbye forever.

And maybe Rip was right. Maybe Kayce had nothing left to offer but a trail of broken promises.

But damn it, she made him want more.

And that scared the hell out of him.

📌 A Yellowstone OC story about restraint, heartbreak, and the kind of love you try to bury — only to realize it’s the only thing worth digging for.

[rinyukiliv]

If you’re gonna break her heart, don’t bother riding back up this mountain.”

Rip doesn’t say much when he’s angry. He just looks at you like he’s sizing up a problem he already knows how to bury.

So when he pulled Kayce aside, hands on his belt, jaw tight— Kayce knew what was coming.

“Stay away from her.” Kayce didn’t blink. “Rip—” “No. I mean it.”

Roxanne had already lost too much. Miss Dutton. Her childhood. Herself for a while. And Rip had watched her claw her way back — from the barn to the arena, from silence to singing again.

“She doesn’t need another lone cowboy who’s gonna ride off for a wife again,” Rip said, voice low and cold. “Hell, I’d rather see her with Ryan or Travis. At least they’d stay.”

Then he stepped closer, voice dropping to a warning.

“But you? You break her heart, Kayce…” “You’ll be takin’ a ride to the train station. And I will be the one drivin’.”

Some threats are empty. Rip’s never are.

📌 A Yellowstone OC story full of tension, loyalty, and the kind of love people are willing to fight for — even if it’s not their own.

[rinyukiliv]

🐴 “He never said the words. But she never needed him to.”

Everyone on the ranch saw Roxanne as a Dutton. But he saw her as something else entirely.

And that’s what made it dangerous.

“You should stop looking at me like that,” she whispered. Kayce’s eyes didn’t flinch. “Then stop making it so hard not to.”

It was never planned. It just happened. Late-night rides. Quiet talks by the river. The way he held her hand like it meant something, even if no one else could ever see it.

She was sunshine and sanctuary. He was the war still trying to end.

“You’re a Dutton now,” he told her once, jaw clenched. “And I’ve already ruined enough of those.”

But when the world got too loud — when family came first and feelings came last — he always found his way back to her.

They loved each other in pieces. Carefully. Quietly. Completely.

And maybe one day, they’ll stop pretending it was never real.

📌 A Yellowstone OC story about impossible timing, quiet love, and the kind of heartbreak only Kayce Dutton knows how to carry.

[rinyukiliv]

“Travis didn’t do soft. Until he met her.”

He was used to horses that bit, kicked, and bucked until they broke — or got sold off.

But Roxanne? She walked into his world like she belonged there, laid a hand on the most stubborn stallion in his string, and turned him into a goddamn showpiece within a week.

“You know what you’re doing?” Travis asked. “You gonna stop me if I don’t?” she shot back, brushing down the horse like it was nothing. He didn’t. He just watched her. And for once, shut up.

He expected attitude. He got grace. He expected fragility. He got fire.

Now they’re on the road together — no titles, no promises, no bullshit. Just horses, highways, and whatever the hell is happening between them.

They don’t talk about it. They don’t have to.

But every time she slips on his hoodie, or he catches her humming in the trailer under the stars…

He wonders if maybe she’s not just taming horses. Maybe she’s taming him, too.

[rinyukiliv]

“He waited outside her door every day. She never even had to ask.”

When Miss Dutton passed, the whole ranch felt it. But Roxy… she broke.

No more early mornings. No more horses. No more laughter in the barn. She didn’t even leave her room. Not for days. Not for weeks.

Except for Ryan.

He never pushed his way in. Just sat by her door, talking about nothing. And sometimes, she’d sing back. Soft. Barely above a whisper. Like her voice could still reach him, even if her heart was somewhere else.

Everyone else gave her space. Ryan gave her presence.

And she never forgot that.

“If you’re still here when I come back,” she told him, arms around his neck, “then maybe you were always meant to be the one.”

Now she’s gone — traveling with Travis, taming wild horses across the country. But Ryan hasn’t left. Not yet.

He’s still waiting.

[rinyukiliv]

🐎 Yellowstone OC Teaser: “She was always meant to be a Dutton — even if she didn’t start that way.”

Roxanne wasn’t born a Dutton, but she might as well have been.

She was just a baby when Miss Dutton’s best friend — sick and running out of time — asked her to take guardianship of her daughter. Roxanne grew up on the ranch, raised with love, treated like family, and known for one thing: she could calm any horse with just a touch.

But when Miss Dutton died, everything stopped.

She didn’t leave her room for months. Didn’t ride. Didn’t sing. Except for Ryan — the only one she ever let near her door.

And then one morning, the horses arrived. Not ranch horses — wild, high-strung, born for show arenas and stubborn as hell. Roxy walked right up to the worst one, brushed him like it was nothing, and changed both of their lives.

That’s when Travis noticed her.

He was ready to sell that stallion off — too much trouble. Then he saw how the horse acted with Roxy. Calm. Obedient. Like it wanted to be hers.

Instead of selling him, Travis offered her a place by his side — on the road, breaking in the ones nobody else could touch. Mr. Dutton didn’t love the idea, but he knew keeping Roxy locked in grief wasn’t helping anyone.

Ryan? He was crushed. But she hugged him, told him, “Wait for me. If you’re still here when I get back… it’s meant to be.”

No one expected her and Travis to fall into something. No fights. No promises. Just two people who understood broken things better than most.

📌 Coming Soon: A Yellowstone OC story about love, grief, horses, healing, and the kind of second chances only the road can give.

[rinyukiliv]

🎨 Something That’s Been on My Mind…

Okay, so I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s been bothering me.

Someone recently told me I shouldn���t be using AI-generated art for my fanfic cover. That I should “support real artists” and “pay someone” instead. And like... yeah, I get where they’re coming from. But also?

I’m just writing fanfiction. For fun. For free.

I’m not a professional. I’m not making money off this. I don’t have a team behind me. It’s just me, trying to tell stories that matter to me — stories that have honestly helped me get through some really hard days.

And the truth is? I can’t draw. I never could. I don’t have the money to throw at commissions I might not even like, or the time to wait weeks hoping it turns out the way I see it in my head. So sometimes I use AI tools to help me visualize things — a character, a mood, a moment I can't draw but want to see. That’s it. I’m not trying to steal or fake anything. I’m just trying to create with what I’ve got.

Fanfiction is my outlet. It’s the one place where I feel like I can actually express myself. I’m proud of my writing — it’s taken me a long time to say that — and if using a generated image helps me feel a little more confident sharing my work, then I don’t think that’s something to be ashamed of.

Some people use AI. Some people use moodboards or screenshots or plain covers with just text. Some people commission art. It’s all valid. What matters is the story and the heart behind it — not whether the cover was drawn by hand or made with a tool.

So yeah... this is your reminder that creativity looks different for everyone. And just because we’re not all artists doesn’t mean we’re not creators.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have you ever felt judged for how you present your stories?

[rinyukiliv]

“You don’t have to keep pretending you’re made of stone.”

Kakashi always knew how to keep a distance.

But Rukia was the one person who made silence feel safe—and dangerous.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. She shrugged. “It’s nothing.” “You always say that.” He reached out anyway. Callused fingers brushed her wrist as he wrapped the bandage. “And yet I always seem to be the one stitching you back together.”

Neither of them says what they’re thinking. About the weight they carry. About the war that never really ended. About how, somehow, the battlefield is quieter when they’re near each other.

It’s not love. Not yet. But it’s getting too close to be anything else.