#I miss irish post so much

[blood-orange-juice]

It's that season again when the Dutch post stops working.

(along with all other delivery services)

*sighs*

[softandeasyasyourbreathing]

I've never had post-concert depression like this, I genuinely feel ill.

[lookingforhappy]

all the people saying stuff abt the deli being fives name

i dont think its his name, but i also think its a missed opportunity to do something fun

like. fives name has been a tua mystery since day 1, why doesnt he have a name, was it his choice, if so why stick to five, how were the others given names and is that why five didnt get one etc etc

and none of those questions have been answered within the show (they have been answered outside of it but the statements of the creators often conflict with whats actually seen in the show.. so not reliable info basically). so there is an opportunity here to do what we did with ben in s3 - show how much five changes across timelines.

and in one sense, they could be making a statement here. five, unlike ben, is commanded more by nature than nurture. he always ends up the same regardless of his circumstances.

but given the general lack of care seen this season i generally think that the deli and the fives are more so a display of a lack of attention. the reason they all wear the same suit and have the same hairstyle, and are all the same age with the same appearance, its the same reason five doesnt change outfits after 7 years in the subway. the creators didnt care.

so i think that this would have been a really interesting opportunity to explore who five could have been. bring back old five, show us apocalypse five, toddler five with older fives looking after them, fives who got to have a family of their own and fives who were never a part of reginald's adopted children at all. irish fives and american fives, maybe even jewish fives if we follow aidan's faith/ethnicity (?).

we could have seen fives at different stages, fives from s1 and s2 and s3. we could have seen how five from the phoenix academy could butt heads with five from the umbrella academy over whose siblings deserve to live more. we could have seen founder five, missing arm and all, before he founds the commission. five from the comics could have made a cameo.

we could have had fives with different names. fives who grew up in the academy and did choose names. fives who were named by their birth mother. max could have been a five name, along with a thousand other names, and it could have shown that fives name isnt about him needing a name but instead how his family has affected him and how he sees himself.

instead we got.. basically nothing

this post is not about brisket five hes perfectly wonderful as is

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Where's dumb and dumber?

here's pt. 4 of chaos fc, this is honestly so much fun to write and its' a nice break from the angsty stuff as well, cos' I really can't be dealing with any of it right now!

thanks to @alotofpockets as always for helping me out with ideas along the way and giving me the confidence to post!

pairings: kim little x reader, kyra cooney cross x reader, awfc x reader

summary: reader and kyra continue to try and cause trouble down under, however, some of the girls are quick to realise before its' too late.

also, reader is a protective guarddog when it comes to her best friend getting hurt.

"Come on Kimmy, it was harmless fun!" You exclaim, trailing through the hotel after the long bus ride back from the open traning session and it was safe to say that your Captain was still pretty miffed about what had happened in the changing rooms.

Well, if the looks from the Scots' women were anything to go by then, yeah, you were definitely still in trouble.

"Harlmess or not, I told you to not cause anymore trouble!" Kim states in a firm tone of voice, stopping in her step to turn and look at you, "I feel like I can't even leave you alone for 5 minutes without you gettin' into trouble!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," You can't help but huff and wonder if your Captain is being slightly dramatic.

That was definitely the wrong answer to say, if the look that the older Scots' was anything to go by.

"The big deal?" Kim scoffs and shakes her head, "The big deal is that I'm really gettin' fed up with the constant immature behaviour-- When are you going to grow up, Y/N!?" She snaps.

This is probably the point in which you should say something sensible...

"Where's the fun in that though?"

Or not then.

You watch as your Captains' eyes widen in disbelief before shes' shaking her head, "Thank God we're going back to London in a few days!" She mutters before she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Enough of the pranks, now! I mean it, Y/N. You so much as pull another prank and I'm phoning Leah again to let her know of the recent trouble you've gotten yourself into!"

Without so much as another word, Kim storms off in another direction and your left dumbfound, feeling more than guilty for causing your skipper a near nervous breakdown from the trouble you've been causing.

"Leprachauns' out for revenge," Your partner in crime leans in and whispers, careful to not get caught as shes' under the watchful eye of Steph still, so you can guess that she got a grilling about things as well.

Plus, Caitlin as well most likely, after all it was her girlfriend that got the brunt of the prank that backfired on the wrong victim.

"Yeah, I'd say we're toast whenever she catches up to us," You tell her in a hushed whisper as she wince when your eye catches the Irish defender, who your certain is definitely still holding a grudge about what happened.

"How much trouble did you get in with Kim this time?" Kyra wonders, curiously.

"Eh its' nothin' I can't handle, but she did threaten to call Leah again," Your face pales at the thought of the blonde hearing what else you had been up to. "What did Steph say to you?" You ask.

"Pretty much to not do it again, you know? Blah, blah, blah," Kyra relays what said back as she rolls her eyes. "Caitlin wasn't too happy either about things, considering its' her misses." She states, amusedly.

"Oops," You can't help but surpress the giggle that slips out of your mouth. "Guess we've gotta tone it down on the pranks for a bit." You murmer in realisation.

No way did you want to deal with an angry blonde yelling at you down the phone again, needless to say you were going to try and keep a low profile for now at least.

"Where's the fun in that though?" Kyra jokes as she slides her phone out of her pocket and starts to scroll through her Instagram feed, "Hey, Y/N-- Have you seen these?" With that being said, she not so politely shoves her phone in your face.

"Wha-- No way, seriously?" You can't help but crack up laughing as you watch the fan edit replay over fans' speculating that you and Kyra being together as more than just friends, "There's no way that people are believing this!" You exclaim.

Kyra can't stifle her laughter as she nods, "I know, right? We're just friends!" She finds humour in the situation; Your used to fans freaking out about things, but seeing the interaction between you both and immediately labelling it as a relationship was just hilarious to even see.

"We're nothing but chaotic, platonic little shit best friends," You grin as you playfully throw your arm around the older girl and lock her in a head lock. "Hey! I have an idea, let's just give the fans what they want!" You exclaim as an idea pops into your head.

Kyra manages to wrangle herself out of your grasp and scrunches her face up, "Ew. No offence, Y/N/N, but I don't see you that way. I'm not kissing you." She states.

"Wha-- No, not like that you idiot. Lets' just wind them up!" You roll your eyes as you pull your phone out of your pocket, tapping on your Instagram and hold it in front of you both as you playfully plant a kiss on the older girls' cheek, "Ere', smile!"

"Right, so when we get to the stadium we'll-- Oh hold on a second!" Kyra's quick to get distracted in the middle of her explanation, leaving the piece of paper with varies scribbles out in plain sight for anyone else to walk past and see it.

Definitely not careful enough to hide it.

A certain blonde is able to find them easy enough.

"What're they up to now?" Alessia furrows her eyebrow as she lifts up the piece of paper, skeptical of being caught victim to another one of your pranks after watching the latest mayhem unfold with the Irish being the one to pay the price, "Vic, have you seen this?" She motions to the Dutch player.

"Seen what?" Vic asks, confused.

"This," Alessia mumers, gesturing to the paper that she holds up in her hand. "I can't really understand it-- Butterfingers and pancake? Are they, like, yeah I'm confused." The blondes' at a loss, trying to wrap her head around the explanation of the writing on the paper.

Vic isn't able to understand it either by her puzzled facial expression, "What the-- Are they baking a cake?" She questions, confused.

"I... I don't know," Alessia is clearly stumped over what it means as she looks around for someone who might understand it clearly, "Katie! Come look at this a second, please?" She gestures in the direction for the Irish girl to join the conversation.

"What's up?" Katie wonders, walking over to the two girls. "What you got there?" She asks, confused as she glances at the paper in her hands that Vic hands to her.

"We don't know. We can't understand it," Vic admits, confused.

"Butterfingers and pancake," Katie repeats, bewildered. "What... Whos' is this?" She asks, at a loss of what to even make of this right now.

"Kyra left it on the bench," Alessia answers.

Katies' eyes widen in realisation, "It's another prank." She mutters, searching round the room for the two culprits, who are strangely quiet right now. "Caitlin! Have you seen dumb and dumber?" She questions.

"Who're we talkin' about, right now?" Caitlin questions, laughing in amusement.

"Y/N and Kyra," Katie states, motioning to the paper that she holds in her hand. "I think they're up to something again." She adds.

"Oh you mean the English and Aussie pest," Caitlin jokes, walking over to join the three of them as she eyes' the paper in her girlfriends hands, "Seriously? Not again." She grumbles, shaking her head.

"I say that we let Kim know what's going on," Katie declares, looking around for the older Scots' women. "Kim!" She got the attention of the captain.

"Ye', what's up?" Kim looks over in the Irish girls' direction.

Katie wordessly hands the paper over to the Scottish women with an amused expression plastered on her face, "Thought I'd give you the heads up, Cap." She jokes.

Taking in the notes on the paper, Kims' left looking bewildered and lost for words, "Just one day," She mutters to herself, at her wits' end the troublemaker duo.

"What'd they do?" Steph chimes in, being near to the Scots' women.

"Take a look yourself," Katie jokes, glancing to the paper.

"Oh boy," Steph exhales a sigh as she reads over it, "What the hell does butterfingers and pancake mean?" She asks, confused.

"I don't know, but I know it means they're up to no good," Kim mutters, exhaling a sigh.

"Steph and I will have a word with Kyra and we'll leave Y/N to you," Caitlin reassures the older Scots' woman as she pats her on the shoulder before trying to spot out the Australian girl, "Kyra, over here!" She speaks aloud to get her attention.

"Wha-- I didn't do out!" Kyra exclaims in protest, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Not yet you haven't, we're putting a stop to it before it happens," Steph chimes in, shaking her head as she slings her arm around the girl.

"Y/N, come here!" Kim shouts aloud to get your attention from across the room.

"Busted," You mutter to yourself and slump over to meet the stern look of your captain, suddenly having a sense of dejavu about this certain situation. "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do." You state.

"What's this?" Kim holds up the paper note in her hand.

"Er, well its' a piece of paper. Was that supposed to be a trick question?" You question, sarcastically.

By the look on the older womens' face, you should know that she is not messing around and you should most definitely refrain from any further sarcastic comment.

However, you just can't help yourself sometimes.

"You know what I mean," Kim deadpans, pursing her lips. "Whatever this is, it stops right now!" Your captain is promptly wagging her finger in front of your face.

"I don't know what your on about," You mumble, trying to play innocent. "I don't even know what that is." You add, continuing to play dumb about it all.

"Yes you do, Y/N-- The girls found it, I know its' a prank and I'm telling you to pack it in right now!" Kim lectures; You have to admit that she really can be scary sometimes, and its' nothing to do with her height.

"Snitches," You murmer under your breath as you can't help but glare at the girls around the room.

"You should be gettin' ready for the match, not planning any of this dumb pranks-- Carry on and I'll have you benched!" Kim continues to scold you, mentioning about the upcoming match you're currently supposed to be getting ready for to play against the All Stars. "Stop muckin' around and get ready right now, do you understand?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and shuffle in your spot, "Yes Kim, I understand." You mumble, although you can't help but stare down at the floor.

Sure enough the lecture is enough to scare you to try and not cause any more chaos, besides that can wait for after the match at least for now.

"So, Tiny threatened to have me benched if I pull another prank," You murmer to your best friend after you finish getting ready for the match.

"I just got a right earful from Floof and Veggie," Kyra huffs in agreement as she finishes tying up the laces on the boots. "They found the papers." She adds in realisation.

"No shit, only cos' you left them aside for anyone to see!" You exclaim, glaring at the older Aussie girl.

"It weren't my fault I got distracted!" Kyras' quick to protest as she throws her hands up in mock surrender.

"Well either way, I have to keep on her good side now or shes' gonna call Malfoy!" You tell her, huffing and slumping your shoulders; You really didn't want to endure a certain blonde defender lecturing you down the phone at all.

"Malfoy?" Kyra questions, confused.

You nod in agreement, already reaching for your phone to explain the reason behind the newfound nickname for the centre back, "Yep, new nickname for the English skip, cos' I seen the comments about her new haircut and they're hilarious comparing her to a draco malfoy wannabee," You tap on the former picture that the girls had taken back in London and show the older girl. "See?" You smirk in amusement.

"That's brilliant!" Kyra can't help but burst out laughing, "Your right, suits' her well!" She adds in agreement with your name for the stern english captain.

"Come on, lets' go girls. We need to line up!" Kim motions the pair of them out of the changing rooms with the rest of the girls.

"Comin'!" You shout in response, the two of you both dwadling to join the rest of the girls.

Kim spins around and eyes you both skeptically, "Remember what I said? No trouble!" She warns.

"You got it, Cap. No trouble whatsoever!" You grin in agreement, eager to stay on the Scot womens' good side for the time being.

"I mean it," Kim states.

"I know, I know. I'll be on my best behaviour, don't yer' worry!" You agree, signalling a mock salute as you join the end of the line, ready to head on to the pitch to face the All Stars.

"Agh!" You know you should be focusing on the game, however, its' impossible with what is currently going on right now.

Seagulls, feral birds that you're terrified off.

"God damn this ball-- They keep deflating!" Katie exclaims, motioning to the ref for the need to change the ball again, meanwhile you're still trying to not have a complete meltdown about the severe amount of seagulls flying around the pitch.

"Kimmy, help me! Somebody, anybody, help me!" You dart around the pitch like a maniac, to try and avoid them.

"Y/N, calm down! You're fine!" Kim tries to reassure you, all while trying to keep her focus on the game that you're currently playing on the pitch.

You shake your head and your not afraid to admit you were deeply scared of this birds, "I'm not fine! There's... Theres' birds, everywhere!" You exclaim.

"Y/N, they're harlmess..." Steph chimes in, mostly amused with your freak out on the pitch.

"No, no, they're fuckin' not!" You shout aloud in fear, doing your best to try and duck down as one flies in your direction. "Why the heck are they flying so low?" You question in horror.

"Y/N, focus on the game!" Caitlin chuckles, shaking her head.

"I... I can't! There everywhere, Caitlin!" Your downright petrified of these birds, however, your team all seem to find the situation amusing.

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "Good lord," She mutters to herself as she moves to gain possession of the ball. "Ere' Y/N!" She shouts in your direction to pass you the ball seeing as your stood in a spot that's open.

Dodging the pesky seagulls, you swoop in towards the direction of the ball and kick it towards Mini Viv who then is able to knock it to Alessia, whos' remaining unmarked and shes' able to head it in the back of the net to give your team to advantage to take the lead and be 1 nil up.

"G'wan, Lessi!" You exclaim, running towards the blonde to dive on her in celebration for the wonderful goal she had scored. "Lessi Russo with the stunning header!"

"Shut up you idiot," Alessia chuckles and swats the back of your head.

Taking the opportunity to enjoy the moment, your focus is switched back to the game in hand, wanting to at least have the chance to score another goal before the end of the game.

However, your fear for the certain birds turned into anger at the very minute that you watched your counter partner be involved in a particulary nasty foul and land on the ground.

"What the-- Nah seriously, ref? What the actual fuck!" Your throwing your hands in air in protest, outraged how the player on the opposite team was able to get away with it. "Are you blind!? Your an absolute idiot to not see that!"

You can admit that you might have been a slight bit more angrier with your words than you should have been.

Thank God it is just a friendly and no yellow cards can be given out.

"Kyra!" You are quick to rush to her side, the fear for the older Aussie girl whos' now being seen by the medical team. "Are you okay?" You question, concerned.

"Ow," Kyra murmers, wincing in pain.

Breathing a sigh of relief that she seems to be fine, given the cheeky grin she gave to the camera when she was being seen by the medical team, you stood up and turned to look at the player in anger.

"What the actual fuck-- Are you that stupid to hurt her like that?" You just see red, getting up in their face and pushing them back roughly. "You'rea fuckin' idiot!" You seeth.

"Y/N, cool it!" Kims' quick to try and reign in your outburst on the pitch,  trying to grab a hold of your upper bicep and drag you away from the situation before you make it worse for yourself. "What the hell are you playing at? Are you purposely looking for a way to cause trouble-- Control your anger!" She states, firmly.

"They hurt Kyra," You murmer, looking over to check in on your best friend. "They didn't even care about it either!" You motion to the player, who seemed completely unphased about the foul.

"Relax, Y/N. Kyra's fine, you need to control your temper," Kim states, sternly as she shook her head. "Your lucky this is just a friendly, or you'd have been sent off already!"

"They... They hurt Kyra," You repeat, not entirely happy that the player got away with it like she did.

It seems like your outburst on the pitch was more of a reason for Jonas, or as you'd kindly labelled him, Thanos to sub you off in replacement from one of the young guns; Initially, you were annoyed about it, however, you were soon joined by Kyra, so at least the two of you could chat on the bench.

"Are you alright?" You try and see if Kyra's actually okay, depsite the fact the medical team had seen to her on the pitch and even went to so much trouble as bring a stretcher on.

"I'm fine, relax, guard dog," Kyra jokes, plonking herself down in a seat beside you. "You know, fans' seeing your outburst like that is just gonna give them more reason to speculate them rumours." She jokes.

"Let them speculate all they want. I'm just a protective best friend," You grumble in response, not liking the fact of seeing the Aussie girl go down on the pitch at all.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

[mage-of-mip]

Half-Foots and Ainu Culture in Dungeon Meshi

It sometimes feels like I might be grasping at straws with this, but I do feel like it's not completely unfounded. Please note, I am a white woman living in the USA, I am by no means an expert on Japanese culture in general, much less a marginalized subculture. I have simply made limited attempts to educate myself out of genuine interest born from exposure to media about Ainu characters and culture. I am always hoping to learn more.

I think it's fairly obvious that many parallels can be drawn between Ryoko Kui's Half-Foot race, and more than one ethnicity or subculture in real life. Romani, Irish, and Jewish stereotypes come to mind immediately.

But I think there's another one that may be explored less in the text, and much harder to catch by a western reader, but nonetheless could be intended by Kui, or perhaps was at one point. That of the Ainu people of Hokkaido, Japan.

There's not a lot of translated information about the Ainu online, so please bear with my limited knowledge. In short, the Ainu are the indigenous people of Northern Japan. For generations, their way of life has been taken from them and they were forced to assimilate to the wider Japanese culture. There are not many who still fully practice the cultural heritage in this day, but there are movements to bring the Ainu culture back.

In Delicious in Dungeon, there are two instances that reference the Ainu, both relating to Chilchuck. This could, of course, be a coincidence, especially if there are more references that I missed. It may be flimsy, but it still feels significant that this is the case, and that Half-Foots are or were meant to be an allusion to the Ainu.

This is the first instance. A significant panel in the context of the story. To my knowledge, this is the only specifically Ainu dish that's referenced in the text. On it's own, its just an interesting factoid, and the same dark humor that's being used for all the other character deaths in this fight against Thistle.

This is the second instance. From the supplemental material rather than the main story, Chilchuck is discussing what Half-Foots are called across the languages. The one that caught my eye here is the one in the top corner. Koropokkur.

The Koropokkur are a race of small people in Ainu folklore, their name meaning "those who live under the butterbur leaves".

Again, in a vacuum, this could just be a Japanese person using a Japanese word in her manga. But I think it's interesting that the two instances of Ainu culture being referenced have to do with Chilchuck and Half-Foots as a whole. It could warrant a deeper read-through looking for other references, perhaps by someone more educated than myself.

I think this could have some interesting implications in the wider worldbuilding. Perhaps the Half-Foots have faced similar cultural erasure and assimilation attempts, which is why a lot of their customs and clothing are just "Tallman but smaller", and why other races regularly mistake them for the children of tallmen, despite having pretty noticeable differences in how they look other than just their height(their disproportionately large ears, for example).

This idea might be a tad more indulgent, but I also like the idea that Half-Foot children don't receive a permanent name until they are toddlers. At one point, in Ainu culture(this may not be practiced today, I could not find information on that), the Ainu would give their children "vulgar" placeholder names until they started forming personalities, as a ward against evil spirits. Perhaps the same is done for Half-Foot children, and their two part names are selected when they are a little older.

Again, these are just the observations of an outsider looking in, please feel free to correct any mistakes I may have made! And if I'm completely off-base or have said something offensive, I apologize and will delete or amend the post as necessary.

[gwenphobic]

COWBOYS ARE NOTHING BUT TROUBLE.

(arthur morgan x pianist at a saloon!male reader)

a/n; sorry for not posting for so long!! gwen stacy x black cat reader will return but rn i’ve had this worm stuck in my head for a min so hold on on that. STAY with me now, this one is good i swearr

You’ve never found it especially appealing, the way cowboys hold themselves and yip and yell about. The way they loiter and accidentally make themselves family men. It’s always been quite annoying though you imagine it is what you would’ve been had your parents been present. Nonetheless, it is not envy you hold toward them but.. annoyance. Yes, that red warmth in your stomach and heat on your face is pure annoyance. And nothing more. Of course.

Your town is small, of no concern. It would never even be dotted out on a map, it is so unimportant. You’ve always imagined what it would be like to leave but have never had the strength. Your place is here at town saloon, fingers dancing around the keyboard. The man who’d taken you had been saloon owner Pete Carter who’d taken your street urchin mind and managed to shift it into something greater, or well, something that makes money. Perhaps, this is why your faith is so strong.

The heat of the day beamed even on your face and flooded the floorboards of the saloon. You sigh. Still, the saloon will open and still will you play away. An Irish woman came in for she was new to town, new to America in a way so obvious. Not much people were here, only the town drunk and a few of the working girls. You sat down with her as she weeped softly, her curly brown tresses falling into her eyes. Her face was bent and curved to her age. She was a mother, you knew and had seen her son and daughter around town often. Trailing upon her like ducks to a mom. Her son was sweet and her daughter, proper. Both young, you didn’t believe either were a day over 6.

“Sir,” she cried, accent thick in her mouth. You rubbed her back before taking her hands. “Yes?” you replied. The mother sighed as she stopped her tears. “I need to write a letter home, but I’ve made no sense of the alphabet. Please do help me, sir,” she said and prayed, “Please know to write.” She looked as desperate as she sounded. She continued, “My Mam has passed, and I don’t know— I need to send my Da a letter. Oh, please, sir!” You shushed her and went to find a piece of paper. That afternoon you’d spent helping her craft a letter home.

As you sent her off, the saloon wasn’t quite full but neither was it empty. A few sat in drunkenness, others sat in a buzz. Some old, some young. It was a comforting feeling, a saloon not so full but neither so empty. You adjusted yourself when you heard it. The sounds of immature folk coming into town. The hooves of horses didn’t stumble as the clambered onto the dirt road. You could feel your stomach tighten with annoyance. Cowboys. Or rather, outlaws. Nonetheless, both were strangely irritating to you. The leather, the boots and all the self-confidence. Can anyone really blame you for holding such disdain? You roll your eyes and sit on the piano bench, beginning to play a tune.

Eventually, the attendance of the church extends and the more proper day drinkers leave. The last to leave is Old Charles McDonald, the union soldier with a limp and a missing tooth. He’s especially fond of his granddaughter who helps him around. He said, some days, he feels crazy. You remember nearly everyone who comes into the saloon, everyone who shares their tale with you. Why would anyone want to forget such history? You begin to help clean up before the sound of jangling spurs throw you off. You froze, completely froze. You turned around;

And there, your worst annoyances stood, an outlaw with two others trailing just before him.

You hid the grimace and continued to wipe down the windows. He wouldn’t be the last cowboy to come out tonight. You just knew the cowboy was walking with some sense of self-importance. You’d only gotten a glimpse but found yourself reflecting on the man’s looks, body. His sandy blond hair and nice tanned skin. Those shining eyes that you were almost certain were a shade of blue or green. You swallowed. He must be popular with the ladies, you came to the conclusion. He’s attractive, alright? Even you can admit that. You pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling.. insecure of your appearance. But insecure isn’t the right word, maybe just.. very oddly aware.

“Play a good one,” the man shouted out, his more pale friend snorted while the tanner one huffed. You scowled. You’ll play what you want, not what some insolent outlaw wants to hear. Your fingers find the keys and continue the same tune you’ve been playing. The outlaw can deal with it. Faintly, you hear the drunken footsteps coming closer. The saloon is bustling with business now, outlaws and working girls all circulating about.

“Hey there,” he greeted, his voice was faintly reminiscent of a southern accent. He was pretty, his eyes at least. All green and.. nice. You shook the thought away and returned in a hardened voice, “Hi yourself.” The man looked a little embarrassed if not.. nervous. He looked down, his hat shielding his face. “You, uh, you play real nice,” he complimented and a fill of warm crowded inside your stomach. You returned, “Thanks.” You continued playing as he spoke, “I hope.. Uh, we ain’t causing too much trouble for ya.”

You wanted to say something mean, or snarky. Usually, you would. But staring at this.. outlaw— he’s an outlaw, remember— you couldn’t help but fumbling out, “Oh, don’t worry about it. Y’all ain’t no more trouble than a few drunkards.” He smiled nicely. Really, it was a nice smile if you ignore how beat up his teeth seem to be. “Alright,” he drawled, “good.” The sound of the piano and chattering of the saloon kept the scene from being awkward. “I’m Arthur,” he added like it was an afterthought. You told him your name. “That’s a nice one,” he said and looked as if he was about to say something else before one of his friends called him back over.

“It’s alright,” you said, “go.” Arthur smiled a little brighter and touched your shoulder. “This ain’t the last you’ve seen of me,” he said lightheartedly before stepping back and returning to the bar. You could feel your face all warm, you inhaled. What was that feeling? Hate, maybe. But hate doesn’t make you all flustered like that. He didn’t even do nothing! You grimaced.

It was gonna be a long night.

[lukolabrainrot]

Okay, decided to just send my thoughts in an ask. Let me start by saying that I'm of the belief that L/N have been TOGETHER since early August. When she dropped the clues/ songs those days in a row...yeah I really think it was ON.

So, what leads me to believe that L could have very well been in Los Angeles to accompany N for her Emmys debut actually stems from the happenings of the NTAs awards back in the UK last week. Now, I found it understandable for N not to be able to go to that. She probably was already on her way to the Emmy week things or may have been in Los Angeles at that point. Never expected her to go to the NTAs. BUT being that it was their season up for the award, I thought maybe L would have shown up to it on behalf of both of them UNLESS he wasn't in town either. He too was taking that trip to Los Angeles in support of his lady, because he is a lover boy, and when he really loves the person, he shows it and he would so do that for her. And remember, he showed up to her last filming day of the season even though he was done and didn't have to come in. He did that for her, so, yeah I can definitely see him wanting to be with her this Emmy weekend, even if only behind the scenes cuz as we know the red carpet walk together did not happen. They obviously still want their privacy. Gotta respect it. 🥰

The coincidences I was referring to are very small and could mean nothing, but it basically has to do with their social media activity today. My friend pointed out(cuz she notices stuff too, esp the IG stuff) She pointed out that they both liked the post about season 4 in production within almost the same time frame of each other. She said it was probably around 8:00am on Los Angeles time so thinks they just woke up, checked their IGs and saw it and liked it. Isn't rare for them to be online at the same time, unless they were literally in the same room... 😉👀And I know this probably isn't concrete proof, but his stylist was also in Los Angeles this Emmy weekend. But he's most likely not their only client so not much reading into that one. And while I can't confirm it(cuz I have no insider info, I wish! Lol) I don't think L was filming on the first day on set today either. I'm thinking they will go back to set together, probably tell their cast mates they are TOGETHER and of course they'll be happy for them and be like "-it's about damn time" cuz we all know everybody on that set ships it and been seen it between them..lol

Ok, so onto why there hasn't been any after party pics, which I do think N was going to because she mentioned that her dress transformed. I'm thinking she might have requested to not have any pics taken, especially if she was at the after party with her man. Or possibly they didn't stay long at the party( remember they both said they love an Irish goodbye at a party) and missed pictures being taken. Maybe they said peace out and headed back to the hotel..😉

Ok, so that's my thoughts. I definitely think he was there with her these past few days. No photo proof doesn't stop me from believing it. 😀🤷‍♀️

Ty for sharing your theories with the class! I love the fun delulu theories even if we don't have a lot of receipts to back it up!

One thing I will add though is that a fan on Twitter said they saw N at the airport on Saturday soooo almost certain she flew into LA Saturday morning/early afternoon.

[wileys-russo]

golden boot, golden girl II r.daly x reader

this started off as a blurb but about 2.3k words later, it's a fic 🕺

golden boot, golden girl II r.daly x reader

"go on girls push up on em, hug em tight!" katie cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted to you all from the corner as you began to shove in as close to the goal as you could get. you were two down and though you refused to check, you knew your time to get anything on the score sheet was running out fast.

as katie connected for the kick the ball came in hard and fast, angled almost perfectly for you to get your head on it and hopefully send it into the back of the net. 

however you felt an elbow dig into your back and with a half step forward you lost your footing, falling to the ground and glancing up to see the ball fly right over you toward the back post, quickly kicked out of play by a defender as the final whistle sounded and the crowd errupted with cheers, the villa players all running to celebrate with one another in the middle of the field.

letting out a deep sigh you rolled onto your back and stayed laid down on the pitch, feeling the warm afternoon sun bathe your face as you covered your eyes with your arm. "come on up now, no time for sulking." manu kicked gently at you as you lazily swatted her foot away and mumbled something she didn't quite catch, the older woman retreating to console the rest of your team.

"hey you, you played really well." another gentle poke to your side. 

you removed your arm and squinted one eye open to meet the caring and concerned gaze of your former team mate, jordan smiling sympathetically as she sat down beside you on the pitch. "i missed three sitters and gave away two free kicks, one of which was scored from!" you grumbled in annoyance, slumping your arm back over your face with a sigh.

"that doesn't mean you didn't play well, the better team just won." jordan poked teasingly again at your side, the older girl having been somewhat of a sisterly figure in the years you'd played together you knew she didn't mean anything by the comment. 

"i am at least glad you're getting the minutes you deserve jordy." you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, the older girl wrapping you in a tight hug before excusing herself to celebrate with her team as you once more flopped back down onto the pitch. 

much as you were at first angry and disappointed when she'd informed you of her transfer, with time you understood why it was needed, and her successful season had only confirmed it for you further.

"oi lazy, the grass called and complained you're squashin it!" a much less gentle kick to your side had you glancing up at the grinning irish woman who offered you a hand. though you should have known better than to accept, as just after your fingers touched she was quick to drop her grip, sending you stumbling back onto your bum.

"mccabe!" you brushed yourself off and glared up at her, kicking your legs out to try and sweep hers out from under her but you were much too slow as she sent you a cheeky wink. 

"come on then, up we get now!" with that she grabbed your hands again, this time properly pulling you up and slinging a strong arm across your shoulders. 

marching the two of you across the field she talked your ear off about not being so hard on yourself, which given the nature of the fact you were your own harshest critic, was a speech you'd heard after almost every match you played. and if it wasn't from her, it was just coming from someone else.

after shaking hands with most of your opposition, exchanging friendly end of season small talk with those you knew well from playing at a national level, you found yourself again sat on the pitch but this time sandwiched inbetween leah and katie, across from you were rafa, beth and viv, the six of you sat in a circle soaking up the sun and discussing your upcoming planned holidays during the off season.

"how's it feeling?" you quietly murmured to leah glancing down at her bandaged knee where her crutches lay beside her, resting your head on her shoulder. even without needing her to confirm you knew she wasn't okay, but you'd also known her long enough to know she wasn't someone easily pushed into opening up. 

"physically? it's alright. everything else? story for another time." the blonde pressed a kiss to your forehead, affectionately patting your leg and nodding for viv to give her a hand up. as your circle dispersed you wandered around looking around for the one person you were yet to speak to, who was also the one you'd been dying to all match.

"hi squinty." tattooed arms wrapped tightly around you from behind, rough but warm lips pressed a few soft kisses to your jawline as you spun around in your girlfriends hold. "you promised you'd stop calling me that." you huffed, smacking at her shoulder as the blonde grinned, loving nothing more than to tease and wind you up and boy was she good at it, and in any way that she wanted.

"well if you wore your contacts when you played or your glasses every other day, i wouldn't need to, would i?" rachel teased, hands moving to rest on your hips as she pushed you softly into the barrier behind you, pressing her body into yours and leaning in. you closed your eyes expecting her lips to touch yours however they simply pressed a kiss to your cheek and she stepped away.

"sorry i can't be seen snogging losers, its bad for my reputation." she shrugged crossing her arms over her chest as you rolled your eyes. but your girlfriend knew she was the only person who could get away with sledging you after a loss without you taking it personally, she was avidly also your biggest supporter and made sure not to let you forget it.

"didn't realise your reputation as a naff muppet would be affected by kissing a cute girl." you shot back jumping up to sit on the edge of the barrier, crossing your own arms over your chest with a satisfied smirk. "oh a naff muppet she says does she?" rachel scoffed, slotting her body inbetween your legs as you nodded in confirmation.

"yeah look i've actually been meaning to end this-" you gestured between the two of you, "-we had our fun and all babe but really i'm just...i'm just too out of your league. i can't keep settling it's a bad look, fitties have to date fitties and..." you trailed off, looking her up and down with a wince.

"you were the best 557 night stand i ever had kid." you continued dramatically with a sigh, placing your hands either side of her face and squeezing her cheeks as she stared blankly back at you, waiting patiently for you to finish. 

"it's not you it's me. ahh i like you too much, i'm holding you back. what else? oh! in order for us to be a better we, i have to be a better me." you paused to think before continuing, finishing with a beaming grin at the unimpressed look on the older girls face. "are you done then?" she quipped with a roll of her eyes.

"yeah i think that pretty much covers it?" you stroked your chin mockingly, looking off into the distance with a contemplative hum. though you let out a yell as suddenly you were looking at the ground again, your girlfriend easily slinging your smaller form over her shoulder.

"rach! put me down." you couldn't help but laugh as the blonde smacked playfully at your bum with her free hand. "i will, gonna water board you in this cooler here first though." your girlfriend replied, waving to your team mates who called our their usual teasing remarks, you flipping them off as you were carried past. 

"wait i have to go get my stuff!" you tried to jump down as she walked off the field and toward the villa change rooms, though her hold on you only tightened. "as the one whose just been dumped i get to go first thanks." 

~

"kiss it!" you struggled underneath the taller girl as she sat on top of you, arms firmly pressed to the bed by her knees as she grinned, the seasons golden boot trophy held tightly in her hands.

"no! i refuse." you pressed your head back into the pillow, shaking your head from side to side as she wiggled the shoe shaped piece of silverware in your face. "baby you either kiss it willingly and i get off ya and we go to dinner, or we continue on like this and you miss out on your pizza." the blonde shrugged, looking down at you.

"are you threatening me right now?" your eyes narrowing at the thought of missing out on eating at your favorite restaurant. 

the two of you hadn't been on a proper date in what felt like months, and rachel had made sure as soon as the fixtures for your final game of the season came out she had a table booked and your evening plans locked down.

though that's not to say the blonde wouldn't keep her word and make you miss out. both of you hot headed and quick to rise to a challenge, sometimes your arguments could last days without either of you willing to compromise, both just as stubborn as one another.

"no i'm promising." your girlfriend smirked, hands resting either side of your head as she slowly lent down, ghosting her lips over yours without any actual contact and pulling away with a teasing smile, wiggling her trophy mockingly in your face once again.

"fine." you muttered with a glare, quickly pecking the cool metal and trying to sit up but your girlfriend pushed you back, head thumping into your pillow. "no, a proper kiss." the girl smiled smugly, feeling your body let out a deep exhale of annoyance beneath her. 

"i am not snogging your trophy just to placate your inflamed fragile ego!" you warned seriously, eyes glaring daggers up at her, only spurring her on further. "well then you're also not getting your pizza baby." rachel shrugged simply, holding out the golden boot expectantly as you threw your head back and let out a loud frustrated groan.

"this is for you, my beloved bella italia." you looked up to the ceiling and spoke, dedicating your actions to your favorite italian restaurant, properly macking on with your girlfriends trophy for a few seconds.

"i hate you daly." you huffed, shoving her harshly off of you as she collapsed onto the bed, clutching at her chest to try and catch her breath, loud booming laughter echoing around the room. "i'm hiring someone to come and take that and throw it in the river when we're in portugal!" you warned bluntly, sitting up and glaring down at your still laughing girlfriend.

"she didn't mean it don't worry you're coming with us to portugal." rachel whispered reassuringly to the trophy in her hands, stretching over to place it down on her side table and grabbing at the back of your shorts as you rolled your eyes and tried to leave, pulling you back down onto the bed and trapping you in a tight hug.

"kiss me like i'm a golden boot." the blonde whispered seductively before her face broke into a grin and she pressed her lips to yours, cold hands wandering up your jersey as her tongue slid into your mouth, your hands pressing on the back of her head to deepen the kiss only spurring her on further.

"you're insufferable." you pulled away, gently biting down on her bottom lip as you did, the girl on top of you holding back a moan. "you're insufferable." she echoed back, a pause lingering between the two of you before your mouth curled into a smile and you pushed your head up to continue the kiss.

your golden boot winning girl, and you couldn't be prouder.

[tlbodine]

Trans Horror Authors

My January reading challenge is to read a book by a trans author. Luckily, there are many out there to choose from! Here are some who write in the horror genre, because that's my area of expertise. If you know of others, whether in horror or other genres, reply with your recommendations!

In no particular order...

Caitlin R. Kiernan

A genderfluid Irish-American paleontologist who also writes spectacular cosmic horror, what's not to love? They've been repping queerness since the 80s and have a robust library to choose from, so you're bound to find something you'll like!

Poppy Z. Brite

Billy Martin, whose work is published under the name Poppy Z. Brite, was a big name in the Gothic horror scene of the 1990s and continues to be a frequently-recommended author, although he doesn't publish as much horror these days.

Julya Oui

A Malaysian trans woman and prolific short story author. She has several collections out that you can browse, if short stories are your speed! Maybe start with Taiping Tales of Terror, which draws heavily on her native folklore and influences.

Rivers Solomon

A nonbinary, intersex Black author now living in the U.K., Solomon has three books out and they all look spectacular. Their books lean more toward sci-fi/fantasy, but their newest title Sorrowland looks to be pretty solidly Gothic as well.

Gretchen Felker-Martin

Trans woman, film critic, and unapologetically outspoken. Her best-known book is Manhunt, a post-apocalyptic horror tale that doesn't pull any punches. She's got another new release slated for 2024 to keep an eye on.

Hailey Piper

One of the most prolific authors I can name off the top of my head, Hailey also has several novellas out in the world + a few novels. If the intersection of queer fiction, body horror, and cosmic horror sounds like your thing, you can find something in her backlist. Also she's here on tumblr, go learn more at @haileypiperfights

Eve Harms

A bit of a new player on the field, but well worth checking out. Eve is a Jewish trans woman. Her debut novel, Transmuted, is a breathless body horror romp. She also makes a bunch of handmade zines, which I just think are neat :)

Natalie Ironside

One of Tumblr's very own better-known names, Natalie is queer, disabled, trans, hilarious, and author to at least three novels I can think of plus some other stuff too - go scope her out on @natalieironside for the details.

.....I know I'm missing a ton of people but these were the first ones that came to mind. I have to get back to writing, but I hope this inspires y'all to pick up a book you haven't read yet, and to add to my list down in the notes.

Happy reading, y'all :)

[mailb0xbunii]

closeups and explanations of all the details in my big , big c!aimsey ; a semi-long post

i worked long and hard on this piece so reblogs are greatly appreciated ^_^ !!!

1. scrapbook formatting ; i've had this headcanon since the early days of c!aimsey that she keeps anything they can keep their hands on in a big , big journal/scrapbook . everything from flowers to drawings to daily journal entries . and this entire piece is just a mishmash of things they've collected over the years !

the spools of thread and pin cushion are a little callback to another hc i have that bloom taught their self to sew from a young age to repair damaged clothes :-)

2. c!guqqie's drawing ; this part is a little drawing i imagine cguq gave caims not too long after they met ! i tried my best to replicate guqqie's style while putting my own spin on it . the stickers were added by cguq , as shown by the Attempt at making them weathered .

3. photos and polaroids ; c!aimsey takes a lot of photos , much like cc!aimsey does ! so i made sure to include a handful

first off , past friends from the bearsmp : in order we have c!bear and c!bill on the top row with c!neptune and c!moonzy on the bottom . no other comments to add i just miss them :'-)

okay i realize now that this one doesn't make sense in the canon timeline , but i enjoy drawing c!ranboo much more than ghostboo so .....

and that's what i hc c!ran's handwriting looks like ! they used a glitter gel pen ^_^

and the c!guqqie polaroid is definitely one of my favorite parts of the entire piece . she just looks so happy here :'-))) . the butterfly is a small tortoiseshell butterfly , which are native to ireland . just for funsies bc cc!guqqie is irish lol

4. michael's drawing ; this one is another personal favorite ! i feel like i nailed the look of a child's drawing pretty well ^_^

this one is also up to interpretation . can michael see c!guqqie's ghost ? idk ! that's up to you ! (and those blurry dots are tear stains hehe)

5. c!aimsey playlist receipt ; this part was inspired by those spotify receipts . except i made this one by hand with a few songs from the official c!aimsey playlist made by aimsey themself . yeah it was pretty tedious but i'm proud of the outcome

6. extra bits ; stickers , stamps , and tickets to fill the empty spots ! adds to that scrapbook-y look too

7. c!aimsey info card ; no closeup for this one because i Did Not draw this part ! if i remember correctly , early bsmp members had a little passport-like infocard to go along with their addition to the server .

the original artist is FruitlegsWorks on twitter !

[magics-neptunes-things]

Surprise

Hi guys ♥

Sorry to be a little slower to post those days, I have some change in my personnal life and I need time to adjust, I think.

I still have some request for McFoord, like here, here, and here. And the prompt come from here .

Thank you!

TW : Homesickness I guess, past Ruesha-Katie mentionned

Despite the international break, Caitlin finds herself stuck in London due to a very slight thigh muscle injury. Since these are only friendly matches, the Australian staff decided not to take any risks with the player and leave her at home in London. Caitlin genuinely hesitated to accompany her teammates to Australia to have time with her mother, her sister and her sister-in-law for a few days. But the break falling during Katie’s birthday, the Australian finally decided to stay in London to at least make a FaceTime in the rules of the art with her girlfriend.

Despite the distance, Caitlin has arranged things with a restaurant near the hotel where the Ireland team is, to be able to have a dinner face to face with FaceTime. And she also gave the gift she plans to offer to Katie to Grace, whom she has come to know well since dating Katie. And that Caitlin appreciates a lot.

It’s been three days since Katie and most of their friends left London. And Caitlin’s already a little bored, taking care of Katie’s cat to pass the time. Coopurr had time to get used to the presence of the Australian at her side before, but Caitlin sometimes feels that he misses the presence of the Irish woman too.

The typical September London rain waters London when Caitlin goes home to Katie's after going shopping for her and the cat.

"Bloody hell" Caitlin yells, getting rid of her wet jacket.

Sometimes she really misses Australia.

Taking off her shoes and socks, also wet, the young woman puts on Katie’s slippers to go drop her things in the kitchen. When she puts the last package in the cupboards, her phone starts ringing. Taking a brief glance in the direction of the clock, a smile appears on her face, knowing that it's most certainly Katie.

But her smile turns into a worried look when she sees Grace’s name appear on her phone screen. Why would her girlfriend’s best friend call her? Already imagining the worst, Caitlin hurries to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi mate. It’s Grace"

"Is Katie okay?" Caitlin asks, forgetting any manners.

"Yeah, yeah, she’s fine, don’t worry" Grace quickly replies, suspecting Caitlin’s worry.

"What’s going on?"

"I mean, when I say she’s okay, I’m talking about physical well-being. But I’m not hiding from you that since she came here she seems… I don’t know, sad? I even thought at one point that you had an argument or that you had broken up"

Despite her, Caitlin feels her stomach twist. Everything was fine between them when Katie left and during the various exchanges of messages or calls they had.

"What? No, we’re fine. And she didn’t tell me that something was up when we talked."

And they were talking at least once with FaceTime everyday, in addition of messaging through the day. Frowning, Caitlin sits on the first chair near her. She tries to understand what can bother Katie so much, not really finding answers. What intrigues her is that her girlfriend doesn't seem to have wanted to share her moods with her, whereas normally they talk about everything.

"I tried to talk to her, but you know her. She doesn’t want to say anything." Grace continues

"Does Ruesha give her a hard time?"

There is a few seconds of silence before Grace's answer and Caitiln imagines her perfectly shruging her shoulders after having thought a little while.

"No more than usual. Katie avoids being with her as much as possible but they can’t avoid each other all the time. Rue is Rue but it could be worse tho"

Caitlin gives up a grunt for any answer. Letting Katie go with her ex wasn’t something easy for Caitlin and not just out of jealousy. We can’t say that Ruesha was nice to them.

Persuaded that Katie has cheat with Caitlin even before their breakup, Rue seems to take a malignant pleasure in taking revenge on something that never happened. Despite the multiple explanations from Katie, who finally gave up.

"I think spending her birthday away from you and most of her friends weighs more than usual, because of all that." Grace says.

"Oh…"

Of course, Caitlin would have preferred to spend that day with Katie. She could also have followed Katie to Ireland to spend a few hours with her that day, but the two women made the decision not to do so to avoid any drama with Ruesha precisely.

"Look, I know you both agreed it was better that way, but I really think Katie would like you to come. She needs you. But I don’t mean to put pressure on you, obviously."

"I’ll get someone who can take care of Coopurr and I’ll be there as soon as possible."

It was easier for Caitlin to find a plane ticket to Dublin than to find someone to take care of her girlfriend’s precious cat. It's finally Laura who has custody of it for a few days, after receiving a long list of recommendations from Caitlin who finally became almost as fond of the feline that Katie is.

Caitlin came to Ireland twice, but it was always with Katie and to meet her girlfriend’s family. Learning that Caitlin was coming, Ella and Lauryn, some of Katie's sisters, offered to pick her up at the airport and then take her to Katie’s hotel. Grace is supposed to help Caitlin sneak into Katie’s room while another teammate keeps Katie busy.

"Oh wow" Caitlin says when entering the room she rented.

The decoration she requested for the occasion is already installed and it's even better than what she had imagined. She takes the time to open her suitcase to install the last elements to the decoration, some pictures of them in particular.

Then Caitlin takes a quick shower to cool off after the trip and changes clothes, before heading to the suite lounge to wait for Katie. She voluntarily didn't respond to Katie’s messages as quickly and as long as usual, wishing that the surprise effect for Katie was to the maximum. But she transferred the photos of the cat that Laura sent her in the last few hours, giving her the impression that she is still in London. In her humble opinion, Caitlin will be able to embark on a second career in events when she has to retire from sport.

But these thoughts are quickly pushed back when Caitlin distinctly hears the voice of her girlfriend ringing in the corridor leading to the room. She is grumbling, something based on "I hope it’s worth it Gracie, I just wanted to put my ass in front of Netflix" which amuses the Australian a lot.

Thanks to the double magnetic card that Grace has, she opens the door of the suite on Grumpy Katie.

Her face changes instantly when she sees Caitlin patiently standing in the center of the room.

"What the fuck?!" almost shout the Irish.

Caitlin’s laughter mingles with Grace's in front of Katie’s stupor, who doesn't seem to dare sketch the slightest gesture. The fact that it's two days before her birthday probably plays a little too.

But Katie ends up getting out of her stupor and suddenly rushes inside the room to hug her girlfriend. Grace takes the opportunity to make a discreet exit, delicately closing the door behind her after depositing the card on the cabinet of the entrance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asks Katie, taking Caitlin’s face in both hands, as if to make sure she’s not dreaming.

"I heard my girlfriend was having a hard time. And I missed her very much too"

"Wait where is Coop?" frowns Katie

"Really? Your damn cat before kissing me?" Caitlin laughs.

A guilty smile on her lips, Katie hurries to put her lips on Caitlin's to properly celebrate their reunion. A tender and delicate kiss and Caitlin would swear she feels Katie’s muscles relax one by one in her arms.

"Hi" smiles Katie after kissing

"Hi" replies Caitlin smiling back, dropping a new kiss on her lips. "Coop is with Laura"

Katie hums simply, sticking herself in the arms of her girlfriend. Grace was right in calling Caitlin, the captain of Ireland has had better times than now. But she obviously wasn’t going to complain to anyone. Understanding the message, Caitlin tightens her arms around her, affectionately stroking her hair by gently rocking her, giving her the confort quietly asked.

"What’s all this?" Katie asks several minutes later, looking at the decoration.

"The second part of the surprise. The first being me, of course"

A smile appears on Katie's face, who becomes aware of the whole decoration, her gaze lingering on each of the photos that Caitlin has installed. Some are recent, some are from last year and some are even older.

"This is the first photo we took together" informs Caitlin pointing to a photo

A smile appears on Katie’s face when she looks more closely.

"We look like babies" Katie smirks

"You do. I still look the same actually"

"You’re right. You’ve always been beautiful"

"You're such a simp"

Caitlin rolls her eyes, unable to retain an amused smile. This is probably not the right time to talk about all her adolescent and young adult complexes. The Australian prefers to focus on the present and her girlfriend. Although they were quickly interrupted by knocks on the door, announcing the arrival of their dinner.

********

"Thanks for coming" whispers Katie, a few hours later.

They enjoyed their meal accompanied by champagne (without alcohol of course), talked and laughed. Katie has honestly not felt as relaxed as she is since arriving at the camps. When Caitlin offered to take a bath, Katie didn't hesitate a single second before accepting. Before, she was not a fan of baths, considering that it was a great waste of time. But if she has the opportunity to add Caitlin naked with her in the hot water, she's suddenly a very big fan.

Sitting in front of her in the bathtub that is about to overflow with foam, Caitlin leaves the foam with which she was playing, to report her eyes on Katie.

"Sure. But next time I’d rather you tell me directly if something’s wrong. You don’t have to pretend with me."

Katie looks thoughtfully at Caitlin for a few seconds, a slight guilt creating in the pit of her stomach.

"I- I just…"

"It’s not dramatic, Puddin" Caitlin says, smiling, taking her hand in hers.

"I just didn’t want to worry you and complicate things"

"It's ok, I’m not angry. You want to talk about it?"

Katie sighs, her hand slowly playing with the foam. When she thinks about it, she feels like she's overreacting or something. That's partly why she didn't talk to Caitlin about it.

"It's nothing really. It's just that everything seems harder here. Without you" she adds, without looking at her. "Rue is an ass and the team's dynamic isn't really the same. It's like every single one of them has to choose their side between me and her, but I never wanted this. It's really weird."

"I'm sorry" mumble Caitlin.

"It's not your fault" frowns Katie, looking at her this time. "It will get better"

Caitlin shrugs and sighs too. If she has the choice, she would pack her bags, put Katie in it and go back to London. But she can't, for obvious reasons.

"I know how much you loved the Irish camps, I just want you to be happy"

"I will kill you if you say other people and they see how much you make me sappy, but I am happy, thanks to you. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy in my life as I have been since we are together. I know I like to play the big guy, but you make me feel cared, safe and loved. There is no stupid competition between us to know which of the two is better. I’ve always looked for someone to push me to be better every day, but you do it and in a much healthier way than I’ve known so far."

Caitlin’s tormented face transforms into tender and Katie barely has time to finish her sentence as the Australian moves to find herself as close to her as possible, sending some hot water and foam on the ground.

"I hope to continue to feel this for a very long time" adds Katie on a whisper, Caitlin’s face a few inches from hers.

"I intend to love you for the rest of my life. And you will have no choice" Caitlin replies with an amused smile.

"Sounds good to me" Katie smirks, before grabbing her girlfriend’s face to kiss her.

[acewritesfics]

I Believe You Dropped Something, Mr Shelby | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader 

Request: No.  

Warnings: Mentions reader is from London.  

Word Count: 1,707

Tommy Shelby Masterlist

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. YOU CAN FIND THE ORIGINAL POST STILL FLOATING AROUND ON TUMBLR SOMEWHERE. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Y/N leaves her new flat and begins the walk to a pub she overheard a few men discussing, determining she needed to go out for a few hours. She'd been unpacking her belongings for three days. She was delighted to discover The Garrison was only a block away from where she currently resides. 

The noise of the patrons inside quietens as she enters the drinking establishment. All eyes are on her as she saunters towards the bar. She tries to ignore the stares as much as she can. The bar is full of locals, and she isn't one of them. 

"Could I please have a whiskey?" she asks, her London brogue heavy. 

"Scotch or Irish?" the bartender says, moving away from her as he pulls a glass from the shelf. 

"Irish." She responds and glances around the pub as he pours her drink. Most people have stopped staring at her, but a few are still glancing at her, some lusty, others puzzled and intrigued. 

"You're not from around here, are ya love?" the bartender asks, placing the glass of whisky in front of her.  

"What gave it away?" she replies, smiling pleasantly at him. 

"First and foremost, you have a lovely face, far too pretty for this place." He enlightens her. 

However, she does not agree with him. "I'm sure there are a lot of women around here with pretty faces and I'm sure they are much prettier than mine." 

"Not as elegant as you," he says as he looks her up and down. 

"You said first and foremost," she responds to his remarks with interest. "I'm interested in hearing your other observations." 

"Your accent certainly distinguishes you from the other women here. You don't just look fancy; you sound it too," He goes on. "Also, the ambience you exude."  

"My ambience?" She lifts her brow, having never heard that one before. 

"You have a poshness about ya." 

She lets out a low chuckle and extends her hand towards him, "Y/N L/N, from London." 

"Harry Fenton, born and bred in Birmingham." He extends his hand to hers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss L/N." 

"Mr Fenton, please call me Y/N. I'm not as formal as you may think." She tells him. 

"As long as you call me as Harry, Love." He proposes reaching an agreement with her. 

The two converse for another hour, Y/N ordering another two glasses of whiskey until three men saunter into the pub like they own it, the ruckus from the other guests quickly dying down. Y/N's watches the three men as they make their way to a room off to the side of the bar. A chill goes down her spine as her E/C eyes connect with a set of vivid blue ones looking back at her. She knows she should look elsewhere right away, but she can't bring herself to do so feeling as though she's drowning in his eyes. 

"Would you mind getting us a bottle of whiskey, Harry?" The man talks as he goes to pass through the entrance of the private room, the older and younger men already inside.  

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. She wasn't expecting his voice's smooth silky tone to be as alluring as his eyes and sounding as handsome as his face looks. 

"On the house, Mr. Shelby," Harry replies, his tone shifting from one of delight to one of trepidation in a matter of seconds. It's enough to divert Y/N's attention away from the mystery man with the lovely but cold eyes. 

Hearing the door close, she turns to face Harry, whose cheery grin has faded. "Who exactly are they?" 

"Peaky Blinders," he says quickly, taking a bottle from the shelf and heading to the private room. He returns a few minutes later, his mood worse than when he stepped inside the room. 

Despite knowing she'll regret it once it's done, she can't suppress the curiosity building inside her and asks anyway, "Who exactly are the Peaky Blinders?" 

"It's best you not know," he asserts. 

"I'm going to need to know since this is now my home." 

"All you need to know, Love, is keep out of their way and they'll stay out of yours," He cautions. 

Deep down, she got the feeling that, that would be easier said than done. 

The city girl heeded Harry's warning for the following three weeks. She socialises with a couple of the locals in the pub and befriending her new neighbours. They weren't as hesitant as Harry to tell her all about the Shelby Brothers, what they stood for and how they dealt with things around Small Heath. There is Arthur - the oldest and most chaotic of the three, John - the youngest and best looking, according to the many women around town, of the three, and then there's Thomas, Tommy Shelby - the one in the middle who didn't hesitate to take over the family business when he needed to, pushing his older brother from leader to right-hand man. The more Y/N learns about the Shelby Brothers, the more she heeds Harry's warning, which she repeats whenever one of the Shelbys is mentioned or seen. 

But just while she's paying attention to the warning, it didn't stop her from making eye contact with Tommy, his gaze constantly sending a cold chill her spine, but she still couldn't bring herself to look away. She gets a feeling there is more to Thomas Shelby behind his cold, hard, and beautiful blue eyes. He intimidated her while also captivating her. 

Walking into the Garrison on a Tuesday night was a little odd for Y/N. She normally stayed at home on Tuesday evenings to go through the weekly newspaper job ads before going out on Wednesdays to apply for any job she had expertise with. She's been turned down everywhere she's gone so far. But there is one place she has yet to try. 

"Good evening, Y/N," Harry cheerfully greets the young woman. Since the first night she stepped into the Garrison, Harry and Y/N have grown close. In some ways, he's taken her under his wing, teaching her everything she needs to know about Small Heath and supporting her as she settles in to her new surroundings. 

"Good evening, Harry," she returns his greeting with her own, and looks around the bar, waving hello to the few people she gotten to know. "Quiet night tonight?" 

"It's a bit on the quiet side," Harry says, taking a glass and a bottle of Irish whiskey off the shelf and pouring her a drink. He never needs to ask because she always orders the same drink. 

"Can I ask you a question?" She enquires, a little anxiously. 

"You already did, Love, but go ahead," He teases her a little but encourages her to continue. 

"How desperate are you for a new barmaid?" She asks him. 

"If you're going to recommend I hire you, you can think again," He frowns at her. He has no intention of hiring a woman like her to work at his pub. Sure her pretty face would attract the customers but a majority of the drunk men would only cause trouble for the young lady.  

"I know a majority of your regulars, I get along with them just fine, I've proven I can handle drunken men, and I know how to pour a drink," she claims. 

Harry looks at her as if he's still not convinced. He would never allow his daughter to work in a place where there is alcohol and rowdy men whose only way to escape the war is to drink themselves to death, and he would not let a lady who is quickly becoming like a daughter to him work in one either. 

"Please, Harry," she begs quietly. "No one else will hire me, but if you do, I'll be eternally grateful, and you can quit fretting about not having any help." 

Her words are breaking him down as she continues to list all the reasons why the middle-aged bartender should hire her. It doesn't take long for him to succumb to the young beauty's charms. 

"Alright! You can start tonight but on a trial basis. You'll remain here till midnight. If everything goes well, we can talk about a payment schedule tomorrow." 

She smiles at the bartender, pleased. 

"What are you waiting for?" He exclaims, unable to disguise his smile as he hurls a smock at her. "Put on the apron, get back here, and start pouring some drinks." 

She follows his orders and begins taking orders. When she has a minute to spare, he pulls her to the side and reminds her of the Shelby Brothers rule, speaking it as if it was a law. "Remember, when the Shelbys arrive, all their drinks are on the house." 

"Do the Shelbys ever pay for anything?" She asks, and quickly regrets it when a voice other than Harry's answers her. 

"When we feel like it," On the other side of the bar, Thomas Shelby stands in front of her. 

Y/N's cheeks heat with embarrassment. She was unaware that Tommy had entered the pub. Her entire body is frozen to the spot, and she is speechless as her eyes are locked on his icy blue gaze. He smirks to himself, enjoying the effect he appears to have on this woman he's never spoken to before now. 

For a brief period, Tommy's gaze shifts to Harry. Y/N diverts her attention by wiping the small spill on the bar top, then moves to the shelf containing the bottles of alcohol, where she discovers her voice. "What would you like, Mr. Shelby?" 

"Whiskey, Irish," He tells her. 

She gets the bottle from the shelf and brings it over to him with some glasses, while avoiding eye contact. "It's on the house, Mr. Shelby." 

"Thank you, Miss L/N." He smirks, causing her head to snap up to meet his gaze, her eyes as wide as saucers. She hadn't expected him to know her name. He says nothing further, his smirk staying as he places some money on the bar before heading to the private room. 

"I believe you dropped something, Mr. Shelby," Her voice stops him. 

He smirks again, "Keep it, it's not mine." 

TAGGED: LINK TO TAG LIST SIGN-UP ABOVE

@forgottenpeakywriter

[fernhelm]

opinions on the black sister relationships? i love your character posts sm!

i’m blowing you a kiss!

i love thinking about them…sorry this took so long, i was busy lounging and watching killing eve. i might type up something about the dynamic between the three of them, but i broke them down into pairs here.

bella & cissa ♛

i made a webweave here that basically sums up my thoughts on bellacissa. i do think cissa thinks she’s a fanatic and completely bonkers, but she’d defend her anyway. narcissa appreciates that in their patriarchal fucked up family, bella is carving her own path—she isn’t docile or ladylike at all. so cissa takes some vicious pleasure in how unleashed bella is. conversely, bellatrix has a deep-seeded jealousy FOR narcissa, who is at least able to play the part of the perfect pure blood woman in a way bellatrix never could. my vision is that druella has contempt for bella but pays a lot of attention to narcissa. once druella is dead, bella sees narcissa as both her baby and her mother in a way, and she resents both. but i won’t get into bella here she deserves her own post.

bella & andy ♞

the hardest relationship for me is bella and andy. my belief is that these two are one year apart in age, like irish twins. we know from dh that they’re basically identical. I think they were pitted against each other a lot. they both end up teaching each other how conditional someone caring for you can be. it’s obvious that andy leaving really wounds bella (as evidenced by the ferocity with which she wants to kill ted and tonks), so there is a degree of power andy hold over her emotionally. bella is both the terrorist and the protector in the home. she goes after both her sisters, but it’s with the ultimate goal of making them strong enough to face anything that’s thrown at them…andy doesn’t want to change her or save her—she knows all the dark, evil parts of her and grapples with all the times bella showed her tenderness or turned her rage against someone else for her sake. i think they can read each other’s body language perfectly, but don’t understand each other’s minds at all. once they’re older they fight all the time, verbally if not with magic, and it would start with bella making some pointed jabs to get her attention and andy curating a biting response without looking up from her magazine and just like that they’re dueling. but once it’s over and they’re panting on the floor, bella would kick her leg and they’d smirk at each other a bit. or one of them would storm out. i do think that andy did bella’s hair for every event they attended between the ages of 8 and 16. huh, i guess i have more to say about them than i thought i did.

andy & cissa ♝

narcissa spends years stepping in the footprints andy has left behind. before she figures out who she is, she’s just a ghost of andy. she learns all her best defenses from her. i don’t think andy feels very bad about leaving her behind. i don’t think she’d try to convince narcissa to go with her either. she would miss her so much, but she’d grieve her like she’s dead. i don’t see her as a person who holds on to a lot of regrets. and she’s in love! she wants to run away and forget every bad thing that ever happened to her! is that a crime? narcissa thinks it is. growing up andy was her strongest ally, and she takes it as the ultimate betrayal when she leaves. similarly to regulus, she looks down on andy and maligns her whenever her name comes up, but it’s a cover up for how hurt she is. andy knows all the reasons that narcissa thinks she’s trapped in the life she leads, but she still thinks ‘if you want out, get out.’

daughters 1, 2, 3 ♙

fairy tales often follow a 1 2 3 format because it’s easy to remember a moral lesson tied up with a bow when it comes in a set of three (three billy goats, beauty and the beast, the peverell brothers). it goes bad bad good. so it’s super interesting that the ostensibly “good” one, andy, is the middle child. she is bookended by two death eater sisters. which raises the question: what went wrong (or right) with her? and for the others too—narcissa in canon is primarily draco’s mother, but giving her andromeda AND bellatrix as sisters raises all kinds of questions about her upbringing and interpersonal relationships. bellatrix chases and scolds narcissa at the beginning of half-blood prince, and she’s not particularly scary at all. the terrifying evil bitch who killed sirius calls her sister cissy? three sisters who mean vastly different things to harry, but we never get the three of them in a room, so so much is left to the imagination. lots to play with. good things come in threes!

[pvffinsdaisies]

Ireland Headcanon Masterpost

Artwork drawn by @nordickies

Part three of creating master posts for my interpretation of certain characters & nations. This time we’re doing the lovely miss Ireland! Who has been occupying my mind a lot recently. Before we get into it, I want to say that I have not been developing Ireland for even half as long as I have been every other character I have. She’s been a floating concept in my mind for years, but I only actually started to develop her properly last month. For most of the time I’ve had her, she’s just been a pretty face and a name, and I’ve been having so much fun actually exploring her. If you enjoy reading her information, I’ve also made posts for Scotland and my OC of Northumbria, both of those posts are going to be much longer than this one is.

I want to emphasise that I am no history expert, and I do not even wish to be associated with historical hetalia. However, as I am from England, it means I am treading a very fine line with my portrayal. That being said, if anyone from Ireland sees this post and takes issue with anything I say here, I encourage you to reach out and correct me! I am still learning, and, as I’ve said before, my portrayal is still very new.

PHYSICAL

Ireland stands at about 5’5, or about 165cm. Making her about the average height for an Irish woman. She still gets teased by Scotland for being “short.”

She has pretty small features. Small, green eyes, a tiny little button nose, and a small mouth with thin lips. She is very pretty, but she still looks quite approachable.

She has long, beautiful ginger hair. It’s pretty wavy, her natural texture is 2c, but she styles it pretty often. Her siblings have always loved to tease her about her hair- the colour and texture- so she’s pretty insecure about it.

She’s very good at styling her hair because of this, though she’s no longer a massive fan of fancy up does. She insists she’s no good on hair that isn’t her own, but she taught most of her siblings how to do at least a plait growing up.

Ireland is covered in freckles, from head to toe.

Her skin is naturally very pale, but it’s also very sensitive, and can turn red pretty easily. She always has to be careful about the stuff she puts on, or else she’ll come out in a rash.

She has a tooth gap between her two front teeth, it represents the River Shannon, the longest river in Ireland.

She has a rectangle body shape, although she used to be a bit curvier when she was younger.

Once rounder and softer, her body still hasn’t returned to how it looked before the potato famine of the 1800s. Her size is far healthier now, but she’s still quite thin and boney. Ireland is not her ideal size, and wishes she could gain a bit more weight to feel more comfortable.

That being said, her bottom is actually pretty plump. Representing the mountains that lie around the edge of Ireland.

Whilst she does like to wear make up every now and then, she’s actually pretty bad at it. Her application can be patchy, and she’s not the best at matching shades. It’s nothing you’ll notice straight away, however, and she genuinely does feel prettier when she wears it.

She has the Triskelion, or the Celtic Spiral Knot, tattooed on the inside of her upper, right arm. The symbol has different meanings depending on who you ask, but she had it tattooed to represent the continuous of life, and moving forward. It was also just a way for her personally to show that she will never, ever let her culture be stripped from her.

PERSONALITY

Ever the extrovert, Ireland is friendly and welcoming to everyone she meets. She has a natural ease about her, and a remarkable ability to make people comfortable around her quickly. Within 2 sentences, you could easily feel as though you’ve known her your entire life. Like you’re laughing and joking with an old friend.

Much like her brother, Scotland, Ireland is remarkable at comedy and making people laugh, she firmly believes a good sense of humour goes a long way. Her humour is a bit more lighthearted and witty than the rest of her siblings.

Ireland shows her affection through teasing and sarcasm. It’s how she jokes with her friends, and the more she teases you, the more she likes you. It could come across as mean, but her tone is usually playful enough to not cause harm.

Her culture truly means everything to her, and she loves sharing it with people. She actually loves meeting tourists, she loves telling them stories of her people, and she actually isn’t opposed to sharing her past with them. She will proudly gives them ideas of other places in Ireland to visit, and things to do, she hopes that everyone who takes the time to come visit leaves happy and smiling, having had a fun, interesting and informative experience.

However, she is also extremely protective and defensive of herself, her culture and her past. After years of oppression, being ignored and spoken over, who can blame her? She isn’t too appreciative when someone speaks on her behalf, she doesn’t like other’s sharing information without consulting her directly. She is vocal, and not afraid to step up and correct people, and put them in their place.

Empathy is where Ireland truly shines. Easily feeling and immediate connection with and understanding for those going through hardship. She will always be an advocate for the underdog, for those whose voices are not being properly heard. She longs to provide the compassion, and the feeling of having someone in your corner, that she lacked when she was suffering.

That being said, she can be very judgmental, and she’s a huge gossiper. She usually attempts to soften it by saying something like “and, god love them” or “god, bless their heart” or “but who am I to judge?” as though she’s not just been talking shit for the past hour.

Ireland cannot hide her feelings, and she doesn’t see the need to. She’s very open when she’s happy, upset, angry etc.

For as open a person as she can be, she still hasn’t quite processed her hurt and her negative feelings correctly. Choosing to brush it off, and pretend she no longer cares. She can grow very resentful because of this, but she absolutely refuses to accept this may be a problem.

Ireland can be feisty and fiery if need be, she knows how to defend herself and she will! She’s never been shy, no matter what, and she won’t let someone walk all over her. She never has, and she never will go down without a fight. She prides herself on this.

Ireland is extremely laid back, she’s not prone to jealousy or possessiveness, and she’s certainly not over-protective about anything. She doesn’t see the point of trying to cling onto someone, it all just seems pointless.

HOBBIES

Ireland is creative mind, and one of her best skills is gold-smithing and her ability to work with metals. She prefers to make her own jewellery, and she loves making fancy and intricate broaches especially. However, she mainly does smaller projects now, as her workshop is merely a cleared out space in her basement. She’d love to find a bigger place to rent out.

You will rarely ever find someone who’s a better storyteller than Ireland, she truly has a way with words. Be it short stories, poems or songs, she excels at it. She absolutely loved to share her stories with her siblings when they were growing up.

Music means a lot to Ireland, she wouldn’t know who she is without it, and as well as writing songs, she also sings. She doesn’t have the best voice, but it’s pretty and melodic. It’s soft and calming, and she has fine technic. But it’s certainly nothing special.

She also plays the harp, which she’s very skilled with.

Ireland loves a party and celebration, and she always goes all in. She seemingly never gets tired, or never needs to go home to rest, she can just keep going.

On a calmer note, she also loves just sitting in a pub and having a few casual drinks. Doesn’t need to be a celebration. She especially loves a proper Irish bar, and she almost has a sixth sense where she can find one wherever she goes.

Speaking of bars, Ireland is pretty good at snooker. She’s no hobbyist though. She and Scotland are at pretty much an equal level, and they’re the only two in the family who stand a chance of beating one another.

She loves a good walk around the countryside, and she’s always driving out of the city to have a stroll. Though she will constantly complain about the sheep blocking the road.

She does boxing, though she’s still a very low level beginner, and definitely not good enough to go up against anyone yet. It was a hobby she picked up a few years back, to try and help her build some strength and muscle.

As well as sharing her own, Ireland absolutely loves taking the time to learn about other cultures of the world too. Every time she has a meeting in a foreign country that she doesn’t visit too often, she tries to see and do as many cultural things as she can outside of work. She absolutely loves travelling.

She adores animals, she firmly believes they’re smarter than humans give them credit for, and she loves to draw them! She’s not the most skilled artist, she really only does sketch work in a sketch book. She rarely attempts to colour in, or smooth out the lines.

Ireland’s favourite, and her comfort show, is Father Ted, she puts it on whenever she’s upset. Without fail, it will always make her laugh, even if she’s seen every episode about 1000 times already.

Ireland enjoys knitting, alongside some of her other family members. She pretty much exclusively knits all of her own cardigans herself.

LIFESTYLE

Ireland uses the human name Saoirse Ó Raghallaigh, which later got anglicised to Saoirse O’Reilly. Between the use of these different spellings, she was forced to take the name Kirkland for a time. She changed it back following independence, but used the new spelling to help blend in with her people.

Irish is her first language, and she is determined to help keep the language alive. She offers tutoring lessons for people (Irish or not) to learn the language. Unfortunately, she’s not the best at teaching.

Alongside Irish, she also knows English, ISL (Irish Sign Language), Latin and BSL (British Sign Language). She knows a little bit of Manx and Scottish Gaelic.

Saoirse currently lives in Dublin. She used to own a farmhouse, but following independence she decided it’d be best to move to the city. She sometimes misses her old house, and you’ll catch her reminiscing on it. She doesn’t hate city life, though.

She is incredibly family oriented. If you ask Saoirse, family always has and always should come first. As the oldest, she helped raise all her siblings the best she could. She always felt closest to Northern Ireland and Scotland when they were growing up, and whilst she & Scotland are still close to this day, things with N. Ireland have been better. Their relationship has recently been… strained, to put it nicely. Saoirse is still waiting for the day when they can be close again. She never has and never will stop reaching out.

Ireland does not have any pets. However, for most of her life, she had a Wolf friend who would always find its way back to her no matter where she travelled. She did not own this wolf, it was free and was part of a pack, however, it was supposedly immortal, like many hetalia pets. It was killed in the 1700s. Ireland has a picture of it that she drew herself hung up in her living room.

In terms of religious beliefs, Saoirse would describe herself as “Catholic Pagan.” She might get some strange looks from foreigners who hear this term, but her religious beliefs combine both Catholicism and Celtic Paganism. She believes in the Lord, and in Jesus, but also believes in and sees traditional folk creatures. She seeks guidance and truth in tales from both religions.

Out of all of her siblings, Ireland is probably the worst driver. She usually is not in front of the wheel when someone else is in the car, because they don’t feel entirely safe in the car when she drives.

Saoirse is so bad when it comes to procrastination. She’s perhaps too laid back in that aspect. She doesn’t like to rush anything, and will continue to push back things she needs to do until she can actually be bothered. If anyone calls her out on it, she’ll blame the weather, saying something like, “have you seen how it’s raining out there? It’s not fit to do anything!”

She has a small fairy friend who lives at the bottom of her garden, named Órlaith, who likes to sneak inside the house and cause trouble when Saoirse isn’t in. Otherwise, you can sometimes see her fluttering above her shoulder. It’s not uncommon for the pair of them to gossip together about certain people they meet.

You’ll never not see her without a cup of tea. She perhaps has too much of it, drinking multiple cups at home, and taking some out with her in a travel mug if she’s going somewhere. If she’s visiting someone, she’ll be sat waiting to be offered a cup of tea. She drinks the most out of the whole family, which drives england nuts. She’ll get grumpy if she doesn’t have a cup of tea on a morning.

[kindestofkings]

tis the damn season

robert keating x reader (she/her)

heres the requested bobby fic! reader is bobbys neighbour in dublin and they've had a situationship thats always off again on again, which ryan is v fed up with lol <3

masterlist

enjoy and also happy new year ! forgot how much I love making these so please come with some more requests, I always love getting them xxx

yourusername posted to their story!

year FIVE of working as a waitress during silly season, people need to be KINDER

yourbestfriend not all heros wear capes yourneighbour1 god bless you ↳ its been TOUGH but neighbours christmas party next week !! ↳ yourneighbour1 UGH best part of the season alsooo did I see a certain curly haired bass player make his return to the road...? ↳ feck he's home earlier than usual 😀 ↳ yourneighbour1 time to rekindle the infamous situationship??

yourusername posted to their story!

the return of the loudest next door neighbour known to man, yay 👍👍

yourneighbour1 😏😏 bobbyskeetz get rid of that sarcastic yay ryanmcmahon_15 yay my fav idiots have been reunited ! ↳ idiots? plural? why am I an idiot ryan?? ↳ ryanmcmahon_15 hmmhmm when will yee learn

bobbyskeetz

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bobbyskeetz home.

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joshjenkinson_ lookin so mysterious and interesting xx

inhalerfan1 he is one of us

inhalerfan2 missed the intense staring since tour has ended, thanks mr skeetz !

inhalerfan3 christmas came early

yourusername smoking kills

bobbyskeetz excuse me?? I have NEVER and WOULD never yourusername big fat liar yourbestfriend y'all are the worst, every fecking christmas ryanmcmahon_15 what she said !

yourusername

liked by yourneighbour1 and others

yourusername the kids table at the neighbours christmas party is always the place to be <3

also slayed so hard with my kris kindle present he literally cried for hours 💅

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bobbyskeetz I cried cause you threw it at me

yourneighbour1 weakling bobbyskeetz ugh thanks tho.... I guess

ryanmcmahon_15 bobby and yn being adults when

yourbestfriend but then what would happen to their beloved situationship? yourusername guys you know this is MY comment section right?

joshjenkson_ hahah the perfect gift for him

yourneighbour2 ugh BEST PARTY EVAAAA

yourusername

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yourusername and it always leads to you and my hometown

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yourbestfriend ah ryanmcmahon_15 shes quoting tis the damn season by THE taylor swift, what does this mean?

ryanmcmahon_1 gasp not the sad tones..

bobbyskeetz confused we're from the same hometown...?

yourusername you uncultured swine its a lyric 😭

bobbyskeetzswife

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bobbyskeetzswife OH MY GOD I JUST MET BOBBY, IM FREAKING OUT

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inhalerfan1 no way what the hell !! where?

bobbyskeetzswife literally in Dingle, Kerry 😭😭 he said hes with the lads but they ran out of drink so he was forced to go to the shops 😭 😭 inhalerfan1 omg hahahah I can't believe they just played the 3Arena

inhalerfan2 no way wonder why they're in dingle, such a random Irish town...

inhalerfan3 that girl that they all follow is in Kerry aswell with grace (eli's girlfriend) bobbyskeetzswife is that yourusername? I wonder who she is, bobby is always interacting with her inhalerfan2 huh wonder has he got a girlfriend

graciebrns

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graciebrns wholesome few days before what I've been told, will be the best party I'll ever attend

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elijahhewson promise its not an oversell

joshjenkinson_ agreed yourusername throws a phenomenal party yourusername ah flattered lads thank you

bobbyskeetz the million hikes will be worth it

yourusername you said you loved going on hikes bobbyskeetz course I do love 😔 inhalerfan2 love ?? gathering evidence

inhalerfan1 wholesome band trip bless

yourneighbour1 woohoo almost time to partyyyy

ryanmcmahon_15 how did one row of houses produce so many party animals?

yourusername party animals okay old man bobbyskeetz just cause you can't ever keep up ryan yourneighbour1 its how we were raised 😤

yourusername

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yourusername hot people have birthdays on nye 💅

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bobbyskeetz so feckin hot

yourusername baby stapppppp that

yourbestfriend was the BEST time ever

elijahhewson class night it was, graciebrns whats the verdict?

graciebrns best. night. ever. yourusername I love you thanks for having me <33 yourusername you kidding me? thank you for coming !!

inhalerfan1 oh hello inhaler spotted ..

inhalerfan2 not bobby on the decks

bobbyskeetz

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bobbyskeetz happy birthday gorgeous, love cleaning up bottles with you on new years day x

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yourusername ahhhh the taylor reference 😭

yourusername my favourite nosey neighbour <3

ryanmcmahon_15 I have never been so invested in two idiots getting together properly

yourbestfriend so insufferable its taken like 13 years for them not to be idiots yourusername and what about you two being idiots.. bobbyskeetz whats your favourite book trope again love? yourusername FRIENDS TO LOVERS BABY, take notes ryanmcmahon_15 yourbestfriend

inhalerfan1 sad sad day for the bobby girlies 💔

bobbyskeetzswife noooooooooo

finished xx