#Long-Lasting Perennials

[bharatvarsh22]

CONTAINER GARDENING FOR SUMMER: CHOOSING HEAT-TOLERANT PLANTS FOR POTS AND PLANTERS

Summer is a time when many gardeners turn their attention to container gardening. Whether you have limited space, a desire for mobility, or simply want to add a touch of greenery to your indoor and outdoor living areas, container gardening offers a versatile and rewarding solution. However, the scorching heat of summer can pose a challenge for plants, making it crucial to select heat-tolerant species that can thrive in pots and planters. In this guide, we will explore the world of container gardening for summer, focusing on choosing the right heat-tolerant plants for your pots and planters.

Let’s start working on a mini nursery for you this summer.

Selecting the Perfect Containers

Before diving into plant selection, it’s important to choose the right containers for your summer garden. Opt for containers made from materials that provide insulation against extreme temperatures, such as ceramic, terracotta, or thick plastic. These materials help to regulate soil temperature and prevent rapid water evaporation. Additionally, ensure that your containers have proper drainage holes to prevent waterlogging, which can be detrimental to the health of your plants.

Compact Heat-Tolerant Plants for Small-Scale Gardens

If you have limited space or want to create a vibrant display on your balcony, small-scale container gardens are the perfect solution. Look for compact heat-tolerant plants that don’t require a lot of room to spread out. Some excellent choices include dwarf varieties of tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants, as well as herbs like basil, thyme, and rosemary. These plants not only tolerate heat well but also provide a delightful culinary experience.

Colorful Annuals for Summer Containers

To add a burst of color and beauty to your summer container garden, consider incorporating heat-tolerant annuals. Zinnias, marigolds, petunias, and celosias are just a few examples of vibrant annual flowers that can withstand the summer heat. These plants offer a wide range of colors, shapes, and sizes, allowing you to create stunning arrangements that brighten up your outdoor spaces.

Edible Delights: Herbs and Vegetables

Container gardening provides an excellent opportunity to grow your own herbs and vegetables, even in the heat of summer. Many herbs thrive in containers and can withstand high temperatures. Herbs like sage, oregano, and lavender are known for their resilience. For vegetables, consider heat-tolerant varieties such as cherry tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, and summer squash. With proper care and regular watering, you can enjoy a bountiful harvest of fresh, homegrown produce. You can browse our website Bharatvarsh Nature Farms to get started with your mini container garden.

Trailing and Hanging Plants

To make the most of vertical space and create a cascading effect in your container garden, incorporate trailing and hanging plants. These plants not only add visual interest but also maximize the use of limited space. Heat-tolerant trailing plants include cascading petunias, sweet potato vines, trailing nasturtiums, and ivy geraniums. Hanging baskets with colorful flowers or trailing foliage can be suspended from hooks or pergolas, creating a captivating garden display.

Stylish Succulents

Succulents have gained popularity in recent years due to their unique forms and low maintenance requirements. These drought-tolerant plants are ideal for summer container gardening, as they store water in their leaves, enabling them to survive in hot and dry conditions. Echeverias, sedums, and agaves are popular choices for succulent container gardens. Combine different textures and colors to create visually appealing compositions that thrive in the summer sun.

Continue Reading: https://bharatvarshnaturefarms.com/container-gardening-for-summer-choosing-heat-tolerant-plants-for-pots-and-planters/

[acapacityforenduring]

im kinda sad my academic advisor probably wont be my diss supervisor but at the same time i do think we are both too chaotic for that...

[fandom]

Top 23 of 2023

Have you been aching to get your hot little hands on 52 weeks of data around original posts, likes, reblogs, and searches, all weighted and ranked and tied up into categories with a nice little bow on top? Well, today’s your day! It should come as no surprise that Artists on Tumblr reign supreme: from stunning traditional art, jaw-dropping digital art, fanart, sculptures, textile art—you name it, basically—this year’s list shows that Tumblr truly is the home for art and artists. Thank you, Artists on Tumblr, for enriching our dashboards day after day. 

Rounding out the top three, we have two iconic shows: Good Omens is live-action, and The Owl House is animated, but both have a heck of a love story at their core. The second season of Good Omens blessed us with not one but two ineffably exquisite ships, while the final season of The Owl House broke and then healed fans’ hearts in equal measure. Thanks, @danaterrace! Actually, come to think of it, the Good Omens finale kinda did the same in reverse. Thanks to you, too, @neil-gaiman! We can’t wait for season 3. 

Speaking of heartbreak and healing, Our Flag Means Death’s second season offered both in droves. The entire cast gave stellar performances, and fans couldn’t have been happier to see the kinds of representation the show displayed. Last year’s #1 topic, Stranger Things, may have dropped a bit, but trust us, you wouldn’t know it from the amount of meta, fanart, and fics in the tag. And did you hear about the live-action adaptations of both The Last of Us and One Piece? They were a preeeetty big deal this year, too. Check ‘em out if you haven’t yet (lol, of course you have). And we’d be remiss not to mention the hugely dedicated fans, fanartists, and fic writers devoting their time to all things Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Y’all deserve a little pizza, as a treat.

2023 was also a year for blockbuster movies, which of course hasn’t escaped anybody’s notice here on Tumblr. Barbie smashed box offices worldwide and left us reeling with every re-watch. How can one describe Greta Gerwig’s pink-filled opus? It certainly is one of the movies of all time. Meanwhile, with its incredible animation and soundtrack, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse introduced us to a whole new multiverse of Spider-People, opening the portal to a veritable flood of incredible OCs. And then, of course, we got a fresh perspective on an old classic when cinephiles introduced Martin Scorscese’s cinematic masterpiece, Goncharov (1973), to a new generation of film aficionados who resoundingly agree that it is, in fact, the greatest mafia movie ever made. We’re so glad this underrated film finally got the acclaim it has long deserved.

In the realms of gaming and tech, the long-anticipated Baldur’s Gate 3 has basically become everyone’s new favorite D&D/dating sim combination. Of course, the Pokémon franchise, games, shows, and Hatsune Miku collabs remain perennial favorites. Elon Musk’s purchase of Twitter, sorry, we mean of course X, made waves across the internet. Similarly, the Reddit blackout drove Redditors to new venues, and Tumblr users welcomed the folks from r/196 with open arms—we’re huge fans of your memes, y’all, and you fit right in. Welcome, we’re glad you enjoy the chaos. Here’s a fun fact: if we included post metadata in Year in Review rankings, #polls, introduced in January of 2023, would have been the #5 topic on Tumblr this year. Phenomenal. 

And, oh right. Taylor Swift had kind of a big year, what with the albums, the epic global tour, and the movie and stuff. Fantastic work, @taylorswift, the Swifties on Tumblr thank you for everything.

This is Tumblr’s Year in Review.

Artists on Tumblr

Good Omens

The Owl House

Barbie

Pokémon

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Critical Role

Goncharov

Taylor Swift

Genshin Impact

Stranger Things

The Last of Us

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Elon Musk

196

Star Wars

Our Flag Means Death

Crowley | Good Omens

LGBTQ

Cottagecore

Baldur's Gate 3

One Piece

Aziraphale | Good Omens

[ahaura]

from 🧵

the entire palestinian coastal plain from haifa to rafah is underlain by a large aquifer. gaza possesses a significant lobe of it, in large part because of this: this is Wadi Gaza, known as Nahal Besor in Israel, one of, if not the largest drainage basins in the Naqab.

Wadi Gaza is a perennial stream in a country with very few of them. it's very small but occasionally subject to massive floods; the highly permeable coastal loess topsoil gives the coastal aquifer a relatively quick recharge time. photo shows the stream inside israel

so in theory there's no reason gaza should run short of water, even with 2.4 million people relying on it. well... this is what Wadi Gaza looks like inside the Gaza Strip. you may notice some differences.

inside israel, i.e., upstream from gaza, huge amounts of water are pumped out of the aquifer in order to make all those kibbutzim and moshavim the highly productive agricultural communities that they are, and in order to sell the water to palestinians at a markup.

the river also naturally loses water through the riverbed, and this is not recharged, it doesn't have the flow rate inside gaza to carry pollutants out to sea. so they penetrate into the topsoil. where do all the pollutants come from? industrial and household wastewater.

gaza cannot import components to maintain its own water treatment plants, nor can it maintain its own energy supply, because israel restricts the importation of building materials, fuel, and other power sources (e.g. solar panels). so most wastewater goes untreated

as a result, wells are dug deeper, because the surface layers of water are contaminated. this causes horizontal subsidence, because gaza is adjacent to the sea, and saltwater infiltrates the water supply, making the water brackish. only about 5-10% of the wells in gaza are usable

can israel pump enough seawater into gaza's aquifer to render it completely undrinkable? yes, for as long as they keep the pumps going, and a few months afterwards. once they stop, fresh water flowing downhill from the israeli part of the aquifer will increase water pressure

salt water is denser than fresh water, so when fresh water flows into a brackish aquifer and water pressure increases, the salt water sinks deeper into the crust. in general, the artificial injection of desalinated water could restore gaza's water supply this way

if, of course, there were sufficient power to run all of gaza's desalination plants and water treatment plants, and if israel's water company stopped depleting the upstream aquifer (and, of course, if the risk of subsidence- and swelling-related earthquakes was mitigated)

IOW: the only reason this is a realistic plan for israel is bc they've spent the last 30-40 years already doing indirectly. even then, they'd need a lot more than five pumps. but the "permanence" of the effect is only true if the occupation and siege are also permanent

whereas, if the occupation and siege ended tomorrow, and even if 5 million people lived in Gaza, the area could regain not only its habitability but its famous and historic agricultural productivity within, at most, a couple of years. end of thread

(Dec. 6)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How about words related to infinity? I am obsessed with the thought of it.

It really is such a fascinating concept, isn't it?

Infinity—the quality of being endless; extending indefinitely

Abiding - continuing for a long time; enduring

Abysmal - having immense or fathomless extension downward, backward, or inward

Aeonian - lasting for an immeasurably or indefinitely long period of time; aeonic

Bottomlessness - the quality of being boundless, unlimited

Boundlessness - having no boundaries; vast

Ceaseless - continuing without cease; constant

Deathlessness - quality of being immortal, imperishable

Endlessness - being or seeming to be without end

Eternity - the quality or state of being eternal (i.e., having infinite duration)

Everlasting - lasting or enduring through all time; eternal

Fathomlessness - incapability of being fathomed; immeasurable

Foreverness - eternity

Illimitability - incapable of being limited or bounded; measureless

Immeasurable - indefinitely extensive

Immenseness - the quality of transcending ordinary means of measurement

Immortality - the quality or state of being immortal; unending existence

Imperishable - enduring or occurring forever

Incalculable - not capable of being calculated

Incomputable - not computable; very great

Indefinite - having no exact limits

Indissoluble - incapable of being annulled, undone, or broken; permanent

Inestimable - incapable of being estimated or computed

Inexpungible - incapable of being obliterated

Infinitude - the quality or state of being infinite; infiniteness

Interminableness - having or seeming to have no end

Limitlessness - boundlessness

Perenniality - the quality of being persistent, enduring

Permanence - the quality or state of being permanent; durability

Permanency - something continuing or enduring without fundamental or marked change; stable

Perpetuity - the quality or state of being everlasting; continuing forever

Persistent - continuing without change in function or structure

Sempiternity - eternity

Stationary - unchanging in condition

Steadfast - not subject to change

Stubbornness - quality of being unreasonably or perversely unyielding; mulish

Timelessness - having no beginning or end; eternal

Undying - not dying; immortal, perpetual

Unfaltering - not wavering or weakening; firm, steadfast

Unvarying - not exhibiting change or variation; not varying

Vastitude - immensity, vastness

Hope this helps with your writing. Do tag me, or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[thecapricunt1616]

Daddy!Carmy holding his baby for the first time

Another unformated daddy!carmy blurb below I’m sick thanks to @carmenberzattosgf !!!

After an agonizing hour and fifteen minutes of pushing, your son had been born luckily scream crying. You had been more relieved then you ever felt in your life to finally get him out. Who knew 7 and a half pounds could feel bigger then a bowling ball sitting on your cervix for more then a day.

Although active labor only lasted 4 hours, and pushing lasted nearly an hour and a half - the contractions lasted nearly thirty hours. Carmy of course was near your side the entire time, allowing you to squeeze his hand and arm as hard as you needed to.

He brought you ice water while you bounced on your yoga ball and grunted through contractions, he knelt holding your hand while you tried to ease the pain through a hot bath, bundled up and held your hand as you curb walked in the chilly Chicago Fall weather.

He made you the spiciest Mexican food you could handle at your request, and ate it with you - sniffles and watery eyes and all. He gave you perennial massages (both of you shuddered at the idea to begin with - but you were both ready for this torture to be over so anything that would speed up the process you tried). He’d had sex with you which funny enough eased the contraction pain for the duration which you appreciated.

He tried stimulating your nipples, the man literally called his sister and listed off the things the two of you had tried already to try and get advice. To which, she gave the golden advice of ‘just have sex again! Like- as much as you can. For some reason it works. They may be grossed out by it I don’t know!’ And with 2 more rounds you were 4 minutes apart which per your midwife was the golden time to go.

She had met you there, and made sure to advocate to your nurses your birthing plan of a water birth and not having anyone other then her and Carmy in the room other then the one doctor and 2 nurses needed to observe the midwife as she’d helped deliver. Carmy had nearly passed out probably 3 times the midwife had told you after, you were too busy - well..getting a baby out of you, but thankfully he kept it together.

2 pushes before the baby had been delivered, you panicked. You had felt the ring of fire, it felt like it would never stop- and you felt like the baby had been in the same spot for the last 5 pushes you’d done, all which your midwife had counted to ten- and your baby still wasn’t out. Carmy though, even in his own panic somehow got it together enough to kiss your forehead and tell you that this was the most amazing thing he had ever been able to witness and that he knew with how strong you’d been this entire laboring process this final stint would be a breeze if you just focus on him and listen to him reminding you how amazing you are and how much he loves you and how lucky this baby is to have you as their mom and without you even realizing, your baby was out.

You realized when the midwife called your attention, and you weren’t surprised to see Carmy having his hands below, ready and waiting to catch his babe and and him to the midwife to which she put him on your chest and the little baby boy screeched. It was the best thing you’d ever heard, you looked at your baby and it was like you and him were the only thing in the world, you didn’t even realize you were sobbing. You didn’t even realize your midwife had to rub Carmys back to coax his face away from being pressed to yours to cut the cord.

He gladly accepted, remembering how they taught him in birthing class and the midwife added the clamp as the nurse came over and suctioned the baby’s mouth out. He helped you unhook your nursing bra and get the baby settled against your skin “Levi” he whispered through his tears and you looked up at him

“He’s a boy?” You question, looking at the little baby who was lifting and dropping his head in search of some well needed food after his long awaited grand entrance.

“He’s a boy” he smiled tearfully, rubbing his little back and massaging the stickiness in that you’d learned in birthing class was actually really good for their skin and immunity.

“I- I feel-“ you pouted “like- like I missed it” you started to cry guiltily, looking at your son “I’m so sorry angel” you sniffle, as your baby carelessly sucks at your breast with closed eyes and clutches Carmys finger.

“No-no baby” he pet your hair gently, “remember? They said it’s just the adrenaline. Shhh. You’ll remember. Want me to tell you? I’ll tell you everything honey and I bet it’ll come back t’you, yeah?” He coaxes, kissing your temple “you did so amazing baby -“ his voice wavered as he tried his best to hold back tears “I promise I’ve never seen anything more fuckin beautiful yeah? It’ll come back I know it will” he kissed the top of your head sweetly.

One of the nurses came over, taking baby’s temperature and making sure he was adjusting okay before taking him to do his shots since he was done nursing for the time being, and the other nurse and midwife helped you deliver the placenta while he followed them to give the shots like you’d discussed.

The next time you saw him was a good 45 minutes later, after the baby had been weighed, given his shots, gotten his apgar test, physical exam, got his eye drops, and done his genetic screening - and Carmy was following the nurse as she wheeled little Levi in the room.

“My boys!” You said tiredly, sitting up and untying your specially bought birthing gown Carmy had found online. The nurse holds up her hand for you to stop

“Little ‘Bear’ here has a full tummy still, he won’t be hungry for another three hours or so. Daddy here is gonna get some skin to skin, mommy why don’t you sleep” she explained and Carmy kissed your head.

“I got em sweetheart” he told you and set down a ‘mommy cocktail’ as the nurse had told him, which was 2 hospital cranberry juices, 2 orange juices, and one pineapple, packed with ice. You took a sip and hum, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back onto the one of many pillows Carmy made sure to bring for you that he bought for this exact reason (sugar told him hospital pillows were uncomfortable - he took the one they left on the bed that he replaced with the comfortable $20 ones he brought for you and realized she was in fact right, his neck had kinks he didn’t know could exist.)

“Love you” you puckered your lips and he kissed you sweetly, lingering just long enough to satisfy you before sitting down on the recliner. He tugged off his classic white shirt, reclining back and the nurse unwrapped the babe, placing him on Carm’s chest to which he scrunched up. You were so exhausted, you couldn’t have witnessed it if you tried. But, Carmy was committing the entire interaction to memory, he would replay this interaction over and over in his mind for the rest of his life.

“Hey, heeey there little man” he whispered and the nurse smiled, covering the babe with the blanket he had been swaddled in when he came in with him and kissing his head. He nearly giggled, looking up at the nurse. “He..he smells good. Is that weird? Er like…creepy?” He could barely contain the happy tears rolling down his face that hadn’t stopped since he caught him when he first came into the world.

The nurse just smiled, shaking her head amusedly. “That’s parenthood. Welcome honey. You seem to be a natural. The third drawer is stuffed with Huggies and desitin- only buy desitin hear me?” She opened the drawer. “Second is for” she silently points to you as to not disturb you. “We have witch hazel pads, ice packs, numbing spray - I expect this cart to be cleared out tomorrow when you leave, mm?” She shuts it and he nods with a thankful smile.

“Thank you” he said just before Levi throws up milk all over his chest, causing him to scrunch his nose and hold back a gag.

“Rule one” she took the baby, patting his back and handing him a burp cloth. “Staying ready means you don’t have to get ready, dad. Always have a burp cloth ready honey” she pointed to her own shoulder, covered with another cloth as she pats his little back, bouncing him gently.

Carmy nodded, holding his breath as to not smell the sweet bitter baby vomit smell.

“Noted.”

[toadstoolgardens]

Low-Maintenance Gardening

There are so many reasons to choose a low-maintenance garden. Gardening should be a peaceful and fulfilling hobby, not something that adds stress or causes pain. A beautiful, bountiful, low-maintenance harvest is possible!

Annual Crops for the Low-Maintenance Garden

These set it and forget it crops have a long season, don't need a lot of babying, and usually get harvested all at once. Many of these can also be grown in raised beds, and some in containers (potatoes grow great in a 5 gallon bucket!!) if that's best for you.

Ideal Annual Crops: These can all go into cold storage for up to 8 months.

Garlic

Onions

Potatoes

Sweet Potatoes

Winter Squash

Beans

Pretty Good Annual Crops: These need some attention after harvesting for them to last as long as possible.

Broccoli

Brussels Sprouts

Cabbage ^^^Refrigerate these 3

Watermelon (Go into cold storage whole and last 2-3 weeks)

Tomatoes (You can grow determinate tomato varieties for a bumper crop that's harvested all at once. Sit tomatoes at room temperature 2-3 days and then process. Freeze, can, make sauce with them, etc.)

Herbs for the Low-Maintenance Garden

Herbs are the ultimate low-maintenance crop. So many options and they don't mind being ignored and can easily be grown in containers.

Ideal Herbs: These herbs are perennials and come back every year with just a little work on your part. All you need to do is prune them down to 5 inches once in the late spring and once around August to keep them growing indefinitely!

Chives

Oregano

Thyme

Rosemary (If you live in hardiness zones 7-10)

Pretty Good Herbs: These are annual herbs so you'll have to plant them each year. Both of these are also favorites of pollinators and beneficial insects!

Basil (put basil sprigs in a glass of water in the kitchen, change the water every few days, and after a while they should root for easy planting)

Cilantro

Fruits for the Low-Maintenance Garden

If you have the space and means to grow fruit trees or shrubs, they're an excellent low-maintenance choice. They bear a crop year after year with a little pruning (prune once or twice a year) and adding some compost or organic matter (once a year).

Ideal Fruits: These have a long storage life and require little processing after harvesting.

Apples

Citrus Fruits

Grapes

Pears

Pretty Good Fruits: These have much shorter storage life.

Berries (Grow a ton of fruit without much coaxing, but highly perishable so need to be eaten or frozen/processed after harvest)

Pawpaws (If you live in hardiness zones 5-9)

Plums

Some Tips for Low-Maintenance Gardening

Spend 15 minutes a day in the garden, whenever possible. This daily visit doesn't have to be spent working, especially if you're lacking energy, time, spoons, etc. It can be spent observing, enjoying, and just being in the garden, which is just as important as the doing!! Notice the changes as the days, weeks, and seasons change. Enjoy the plants, insects, birds, and other critters you've invited into your garden.

Mulch like a motherfucker. After planting, mulch that garden! A good mulching keeps weeds at bay, making less work for you.

Stagger harvest windows. Plan your planting times so you only have one or a few crops coming to harvest at the same time. This also allows for full appreciation and enjoyment of each crop, hopefully without burnout or overwhelm!

Put it on the calendar. Write down planting, harvesting, and pruning windows for each crop.

Most importantly, BE GENTLE WITH YOURSELF. Gardening, even a low-maintenance garden, is hard! You will lose plants. You will lose crops. You will make mistakes and have failures. You weren't able to get to the garden and all your sprouts died? That's totally okay and you can always start them again! You weren't able to harvest in time and the birds got all your berries? You're welcome, birds! Do your best, do what you're able, and you're doing amazing!!💖

Source

[moon-like-u]

the butterfly effect

pairing: jeon wonwoo/reader

genre: sci-fi i think, time travel au! kinda angst

word count: 1,794

warnings: may be confusing because it jumps from previous and present timelines

synopsis: wonwoo can time travel and will do everything just to make you happy

a/n: hello omg it has been two years since my last post! i accidentally stumbled on my draft for this au and decided to finish it. i didn't proofread this anymore so hopefully it still makes sense by the end and that it's not too rushed ^___^ also i hope the narrative is not confusing with all the reminisces lol this felt long but apparently both junhui and joshua aus are still longer ahaha

You had warned him. 

You already warned him that this would happen, but he was too stubborn to follow. Wonwoo feels the early afternoon air against his face as he walks the streets of the city with one destination in mind: the coffee shop, Hanabira. 

He knows these streets all too well; the few apartment buildings among different restaurants and small businesses that seemingly fall together, the trees and light posts lining up the streets, the idle chatter of people, a string familiar of faces, even the cracks in the gravel full of perennial plants – all of these fell into place fitting like a puzzle, just like you and him, he thought.

It was also in these streets that he discovered his ability to time travel many years ago. Ever since then, he felt as if a huge responsibility rested upon his shoulders and at the same time, felt like nothing mattered, everything and anything was temporary – well, until he met you. You who drink coffee as if it were water, you who choose to walk with him on this very same street every time he asks you to, you who remember every single detail of your (and his) favorite books, plays, and songs and still manage to become forgetful. You who became the permanent fixture in his life among those that faded away. 

He thinks back to when he asked what would you do if you had the ability to time travel. You had said that it would be a big responsibility to have, after all, you can change a lot of things that can alter human history. In terms of your personal life, you told Wonwoo that you would leave it exactly as it is. 

The afternoon light was streaming through the blinds of his room, creatively lighting up the room as the both of you lounge on his bed. Wonwoo grabbed your hand as you sat up on your elbows.

“I’d rather not change anything in the past. Everything felt circumstantial, you know?” you pondered. “The day I met you, I wouldn’t change a thing. I love you and I want to meet you the very second we did.”

The bell on the door of Hanabira jingles as he walks in, the smell of coffee and vanilla greeting him. He remembers the day you met as if it were just yesterday. He smiles lightly as he recalls it. 

During the middle of the day, Hanabira was booming with customers in line to get their cup of coffee and baked pastries. It was not a surprise that there was a long line that almost reached the entrance door. However, the peak hour was not the only reason why the line is long— you were there, holding up the line because you were short 10 won. 

Wonwoo sees the panic in your eyes as you dig up your wallet, bag, and pockets to find nothing but a few paper receipts. He can’t help but notice how you already had a large coffee stain on your torso, coffee you probably spilled hours before. “Here,” he said as he gave the cashier 10 won, realizing he must put you out of your misery. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out. “I’m not usually unprepared like this, if you don’t mind to keep in contact so I can pay you back.”

Wonwoo was surprised to see you look like you’re about to cry, wearing a coffee-stained long-sleeved shirt, and yet, you had this determined look on your face as if he just paid 1,000 won instead of 10. 

“Sure,” he replies, speechless. 

The rest was history. Wonwoo was glad he had 10 won to spare that day, for he felt like he was the luckiest man to have met you. He still does. Wonwoo would do everything just to see you happy. Wonwoo walked into Hanabira, taking in the place. It gives him a little comfort seeing how everything is still the same—it still looks like the same favorite place you ever so loved.

He looked over to the corner where the both of you sat and when you had poured your heart out to him. He remembered how you opened up to him that day in this very coffee shop, thinking that a heart-wrenching conversation with a random (cute) stranger that you would probably never meet again would help ease the pain.  Wonwoo recalled how you explained to him that the reason you were tense and bought coffee with not enough money was that you missed an interview for a screenwriter position, your dream job. He found it ridiculous that you would not even change this part of your past if given the ability to time travel.

“But that interview was your dream, wouldn’t you at least try to change the past and attend the interview like you always wanted?” Wonwoo asks.

“Well, yeah. It is my dream. But still, I know I can do my best even without that interview. Even if I have to do other positions first before being promoted to a screenwriter. I know I’ll get there,” you said wistfully. “Besides, if I made it to that interview, I wouldn’t have met you, you know. And I couldn’t have that!” you said teasingly.

Wonwoo had laughed along with you then, but it got him thinking. It has been your dream since you were a kid. He remembers how you passionately defended the beauty of being a screenwriter when he expressed that being a director sounded more appealing, just to tease you. 

“Screenwriters bring the magic directors can show. One is not above the other—both are staples to create something so beautiful in harmony through plays, movies and the like!” you attested.

It took you a while to realize that he was just messing with you, a feat that was rewarded with a slap in the arm. But it was then that he knew how much this meant to you. And Wonwoo, well, he wanted to give everything to you—even the world, if he can.

If there was one thing that Wonwoo learned and proved with his time travel abilities, it was the chaos theory, specifically the butterfly effect. It amused him how little changes really do cause big changes in a course of events, which is why he had to be careful and think about the repercussions of changing anything as little as moving the position of a park bench. It was how he just changed the batteries of a certain bus driver’s alarm clock that caused you to ride a bus that did not have reckless driving skills, which meant that you did not spill your coffee all over yourself and your resume. Which means that you had successfully entered the interview of your dream job, prepared, polished, and caffeinated. 

“Sir? Excuse me, sir? I said that would be 4,400 won,” the cashier calls out. 

Wonwoo snapped out of his reverie and handed the cashier his bills, “Sorry, I spaced out. Thank you.”

It has been three years in the timeline where you made it to the interview. You made it, Y/N, Wonwoo thinks as he sees your name is becoming known in the film industry. He wanted to celebrate with you, but in this timeline, he would just be another stranger to you. He knew this would happen, but he still went on and change the past despite you refuting the idea before.

“What if we still meet afterwards, in another day? Would you change the past this time?” he asks you.

You hummed, “It’s a risk, I still wouldn’t do it if I don’t have the reassurance that we’ll meet again.”

“I’m sure we’ll meet again in this scenario.”

“How sure are you? I think it was because of our decisions that day that we met, so, I still wouldn’t change a thing even though it would get me to that interview,” you said while tracing circles on his arm.

“No, I think it’s because of fate that we met,” he replied.

You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes, “I didn’t take you for a sappy romantic.”

He chuckled, you felt the reverberations on his chest, “No, I just think we’re fated together, Y/N. I think that even if you were a popular, in-demand screenwriter, we’d still find our way to each other.”

“So in this scenario I'm popular and in-demand you say? What if I turn into a snob and refuse to meet you with all that fueling my ego?” you laughed.

“All the more why I should be there to pull you back down!” Wonwoo responded, suddenly attempting to tickle you. You laughed at the unexpected attack and responded with the same action. Both of you were lost in a series of laughs and tangled limbs.

Wonwoo recalled the memory with a bittersweet feeling. Of course, he considered looking for you and introducing himself, but he couldn’t think of a way that would not make him look like a madman. Hi, I’m Wonwoo. You were the love of my life in another timeline? He had not even told you of his time travel abilities before. He went to all the previous places you used to live in, but you never resided there in the present timeline. You had warned him that this would be a big change, that it would come with the risks of not meeting each other—and yet, he went ahead and did it. Still, he does not regret he did it. He just wishes he could be there to see you happy to have achieved your lifelong dream.

Back in the coffee shop, Wonwoo decided to take a walk outside with a sigh. We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it, he thinks. As soon as he went out Hanabira, he collided with someone and spilled the remainder of his now cold coffee onto the floor. Wonwoo noticed the dog first, and looked at the person. It was you.

“I am so sorry! My dog suddenly dragged me and ran all the way here, I swear he doesn’t usually get like this!” you said apologetically. 

“It’s okay, he was probably just excited,” Wonwoo chuckled, as he kneeled down and petted the dog. Well, aren’t you a good boy, he thinks as he continues to pet the dog.

“Yeah, he loves walking in this part of the city!” you said, relieved. “I’m sorry I spilled your coffee though, how can I make it up to you?”

Wonwoo looks up at you with a smile, “What about a coffee for a coffee?” I told you it’s fate Y/N, we are just destined together in every timeline, he thinks. He stood up, reached out his hand, and said “Wonwoo, by the way.”

You smiled, “Y/N.”

[tanadrin]

Sometimes I think about how in television and film, it's occasionally easier to portray more advanced technology than it is inferior technology: if you need a hologram of a person in a scene, it's much simpler to hire an actor and just film them, than it is to create a CGI person who is almost but not quite real-looking. This was even truer in like the 90s: for all the talk about how holograms and replicated food on Star Trek weren't as good as the real thing, it was easier to shoot a holodeck scene in an actual outdoor location, or just use a visual effect splicing two shots together to show a real plate of food appearing in the replicator, than to try to create a facsimile that was just uncanny enough to work. Or I think about how the "futuristic" computer graphics in 80s sci fi are all displayed on bulky CRT monitors, or even the "wireframe" shot of New York in Escape from New York that was made by creating a model of Lower Manhattan, painting it black, and sticking reflective tape on all the edges. Or even the transporter from Star Trek, a device invented so that they wouldn't have to pay for shots of shuttles taking off and landing on planets all the time!

The advances in visual effects technology in the last couple of decades means it's actually way easier for newer installments in long-running franchises to make technology look like the product of artifice, rather than having to suspend your disbelief that the "hologram" in front of you is Just A Dude. I think that's neat! I I think it's really interesting how the limits of technology, not just in our capacity to imagine what technology is possible but to depict that technology on screen, shapes our expectations of The Future.

(This is also one reason why I have a perennial soft spot for animated sci fi: it's a bit freer from these constraints, in a way that sacrifices verisimilitude for more overt artifice.)

[toms-cherry-trees]

Ash & Shadows || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: The night is long and dreary. Does the future hold hope, or is there just pain left?

Word count: 4.9k

Tags: Implications of major character death, grief, angst, Tommy being and asshole and then regretting it, set after s6e6 so I had to work around that hot mess. It has some Gothic and ghostly themes

Author’s note: A CALENDAR YEAR I PROCRASTINATED THIS but I HAD to finish it so, enjoy?

The tears have long dried in your cheeks, but their saltiness lingers in your tongue. Your throat feels parched, but you cannot find it in yourself to cross the few steps that separate you from the cup of stale tea in your nightstand, nor any of the dozen abandoned beverages that litter the master bedroom. There’s whiskey with water on the mantelpiece, sitting next to some plain water, and remnants of milk with honey and cinnamon, in which you suspect Frances mixed some drops of laudanum, for you felt strangely calm after drinking it, but not enough to find sleep. The bed is a mess, proof of your restlessness, the sheets and blankets hastily pulled from the corners and wrapped tightly around you like a protective cocoon, in hopes that the comforting swaddle will keep you whole for one more night. But they do little to placate the unforgiving cold spreading through your insides, a chill sprouting from within your very soul.

The ash and soot linger on your hands, caked under your ruined nails and smeared across your raw skin. Your clothes have not been changed in days, and they smell of burnt wood and petrol, mixed with something unspeakable and revolting. The stench is rooted in your nostrils, so pervasive you taste it in your mouth, in your throat, in the depths of your lungs. It spreads through your veins and seeps into your bones, consuming your spirit in waves of black and death. You are overcome by the vile venom, and even the mere evocation of it makes you choke and heave violently. A foulness you will never be able to forget, perennially engraved in the deepest corners of your memory, alongside other grim chapters of your past. But unlike others, this has changed your life, your self, the very course of your existence. You cannot fathom how the world continues to spin and the sun to rise in the horizon after such ground shattering devastation has occurred. 

Your husband is dead, that much you know. He is dead and you are still alive and in your heart, that goes against the laws of nature. You are not meant to exist without the other. You had swore to grow old together, how could he leave you thirty years before his time? How could he leave when your children had not even learned to tie their shoes themselves yet? He had not yet commissioned the treehouse he promised them, how could he abandon them halfway through?

You should have known something was amiss. You knew your husband, better than anyone could. You had a way to read his thoughts and forestall his actions that not even his late aunt could comprehend. Only you could dissipate the fog from his troubled mind and unravel the rigmarole which composed the very foundations of his existence. He had once said, late at night, with his arm around your waist while he believed you fast asleep, that he felt like a man standing alone under a wicked thunderstorm, and you were the only one brave enough to face the tempest and come to him with an umbrella, even at the risk of your own life. But he would forever take the umbrella from your hands. Your life before his, every single time.

How could you not foresee this?

Ever since the failed assassination on Mosley, Tommy had slowly but steadily gone down a steep slope, one not even you could rescue him from. Life had never shown him mercy; every time he reached the pinnacle, a new mountain blocked his way, mightier and deadlier than the last. He had surmounted them all, not without penalty, leaving blood bathed bullets and bodies in his wake. But at last, Tommy had found his Everest. The summit taunted him, unreachable; the death of his aunt clobbered him like an avalanche, and the man he became after that didn’t hold the slightest resemblance to the man you fell in love with. You were sure that if you sat the present day Tommy before the one he used to be in 1919, they would not recognise each other.

He tried to keep you shielded from his meetings with the fascists, the rallies, the gossip and scandal. Only he knew the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the garden while you sat before the fireplace reading stories with your children. And only he knew about the stacks of bills being passed from hand to hand, sealing deals and pacts that promised to change the course of history. Tommy only wanted you to worry about your charities, your horses and your pretty dresses, and leave the rest of the world upon his steady shoulders.

In his mind, oblivious meant safe. For you, it felt like a lack of trust in your person. And that soon morphed into bitter resentment, never shown openly but perpetually simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. Lying had always come easy to him, but it became harder when his lies were unmasked in the morning paper. How could he pledge innocence when his face showed up on the front page next to the leader of the British Union of Fascists? How could he deny his guilt, with Diana Mitford right at his tail?

How could he pretend leaving you in the dark was for the greater good?

Everything came to a breaking point when he suddenly summoned you to his study to inform you he would be departing for Canada the following day, with no clear return date and refusing to elaborate on what called him so suddenly to cross the Atlantic. The more you pressed for answers, the more he manoeuvred around them with carefully premeditated replies of vague content, half finished sentences and loose words, so unlike him that the lies unravelled on their own before your eyes. His total carelessness over the situation and the dismissal of your worries became the drop that tipped the glass. Months of carefully concealed rancour came bursting to the surface like an erupting volcano. 

You called him every name in the book, reminding him of the things you had endured for his sake over the long course of your relationship, while he could not even allow you the decency of forewarning you of such a trip or offer an acceptable explanation for such haste in departure, the acrimony in your heart even making you ask if he had special company for the journey. His impassive silence only irked you further, and you told him he could get a one way ticket to hell for all you cared, before slamming the door to his office so violently you heard a painting fall and shatter on the ground. 

The day after, you rounded the kids in the foyer for the mandatory goodbyes. He hugged them all long and tight, a rarity in itself for a man who had become so cold and withdrawn he barely spared them a glance in the mornings over his newspaper. And then he kneeled before Charlie and placed a brand new gold pocket watch in the boy’s little hands. Your husband said men wore pocket watches and he would be the man of the house now. The boy only stared back, perplexed, and nodded once silently before pocketing the precious object with utmost care.

You remained irate, arms crossed over your chest, fingers drumming on your arm impatiently. It was hard to tell you apart from an enraged bull staring at a red cloth. A part of you felt like a petulant child, but after so many years of marriage and everything you had silently withstood for him, you could no longer hide the hurt and disappointment, feelings far too familiar that you had grown accustomed to conceal. You only allowed him a brief goodbye, turning your face away when he tried to kiss your lips, presenting your cheek instead. He didn’t protest, his lips lingering on your skin longer than they had done in years, his gloved hand cradling the back of your neck and playing with your hair. His free arm circled your waist and pulled you close, face moving to rest in the crook of your neck as he inhaled deeply, as if committing the scent of your body to memory.

A strange sense of foreboding filled you, but you forced it out of your mind. 

If you had known what the future held ahead, you would have jumped into his arms, engraving in your memory every detail of himself; the feeling of his hands on your waist, the timbre of his voice. Traced every nook and cranny of his face with your fingertips, over and over until you could forever recall it. You would have kissed those lips until they bled, and with the same ferocity, you would have screamed and clawed and made the windows rattle and the ground shake, demanding an explanation. Demanding to know why.

The days passed, and the worry began to gnaw at your chest. The hotel address he gave you didn’t exist, nor did the phone number which he scribbled down hastily seconds before crossing the threshold, only after you demanded to have a way to contact him should an emergency arise with the kids. The kids. Not you. Over his shoulder, as if an afterthought, he said he would call. After the first week of silence you had a landline installed outside your bedroom, and you would stare incessantly at the apparatus, willing it to ring. One time you heard the faint ringing in the study from the entrance door, and you rushed to it with such haste you vaulted over a sofa and snapped your high heel off. But it only turned out to be Ada, checking in on you. Ever since that day, everyone seemed to grow suspiciously closer to you. Calls and visits and days out. Ada inviting you to London and looking after the kids to give you a day off. Curly and Charlie coming often to help the kids tame their new ponies. Arthur would come too, far too often to be normal, and he would sit across from you in the living room, nursing a whiskey in his hand and poorly attempting small talk, always looking ready to be sick and evading your gaze.

Their pitiful stares didn’t go unnoticed, nor did some carefully chosen words, such as how your kids would always be looked after and provided for in the family, how they would always be there for you and would support whatever you chose to do with your life. Praising your strength, offering their support, always looking away or changing the subject when you asked if your husband had called them. The thinly veiled edge of desperation in your voice seemed to stir something within them, and redoubled their efforts in consoling you for something you didn’t yet know.

The truth laid bare before your very eyes, just an inch out of reach, concealed just enough to keep you in the dark with confusing glimpses of the life ahead.

But the passive games and the uncertainty came to an abrupt halt one bright sunny morning, the skies blue and clear like Tommy’s eyes and a gentle breeze fanning over the gardens. You told the nannies to prepare the kids for a picnic in the meadow, and helped Frances set up a plentiful food basket. But just before you could set foot out, a car stopped in the driveway. The frantic knocking on the door and the slurred screaming had you fearfully peeking out through the draperies, your finger readied on the trigger of a gun, only to see Arthur slumped against one of the columns of the entrance, calling out your name. Before he could say another word, you knew he had relapsed back into the opium, acquired from who knows where. Even from afar, he reeked of alcohol and smoke, face bloated and eyes bloodshot and swollen. He staggered forward, nearly toppling over you before falling to his knees, his face distorted in anguish. You tried to pull him up, to coax some sort of explanation out of him, anything to placate the worry crawling up your chest.

A million possible scenarios played in your head, yet not even ten lives could have prepared you for the simple words that escaped his mouth.

“Tommy is dead”

From that point on, memories become elusive. Only fleeting moments remain. You recall your own hands, hands meant to nurture, caress and comfort; hands that wiped tears, stroked hairs and tickled bellies, your kind and gentle hands gripping Arthur’s coat lapels and pulling on him with such force he came back to his feet, startled. You remember shaking him violently, teeth gritted and vision blurred with hot tears, your mascara running down your cheeks. Your lips parted to scream, but you cannot recall what words came out of your mouth. Arthur tried to pry your hands open and take some distance, but then you slapped him across the face. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was a punch. Or maybe a detail that never happened, later added by your wrecked mind. Because you hoped that if you screamed and punched and tore the world to pieces you would awaken from that nightmare.

You saw the smoke long before the car reached the side road. The perfume of the blooming flowers could not mask the wafting aroma of charred wood, petrol and burnt fabrics, with something else you could not quite pinpoint, but smelled vile and pernicious. A cheerful meadow stretched out before you, bright green dotted with white and yellow spreading as far as the eye reached across gentle hills. And amidst all, a scorched patch of land, and a pile of still smouldering debris, wisps of acrid poison swirling in the docile spring breeze. 

You leapt towards the vardo’s remains, but Arthur restrained you, slender but firm arms circled tight around your waist as he attempted to comfort you; as if there could be any comfort for you in that moment and place. You fought him with tooth and nail, scratching and biting and kicking like a frenzied beast, cursing his name, his bloodline and his entire existence. All he did back was shush you, a hand pressed to your abdomen, his arm around your chest as your knees gave and you collapsed into him, agonising wails wracking your to your core.

You cried out for Tommy, but only death called back.

In time, the smoke cleared and the pyre cooled, allowing you a clear view of the massacre before your very eyes. Like the leftovers of a bonfire, wood so thoroughly charred it disintegrated on the hand, mixed with scalding pieces of metal and leftover rags that once were curtains and bedding. You fell to your knees, frantic fingers digging at the ash and earth bare handed, soot and dust clinging to your sweat doused skin, getting in your eyes, your nose, your mouth. Your fingers ached and your skin reddened and blistered in the heat, but you felt nothing, nothing but the overcoming grief coiling around your heart, constricting your throat and freezing the blood in your veins. Your tears sizzled as they fell on the ground. You dug and dug, panicked sobs reverberating in the emptiness of the meadow, your pain a sharp contrast with the chirping of the blackbirds on the branches. 

You could find but only a few scarce belongings that survived the conflagration. A couple of gold sleeve garters. His pocket watch, the mechanism somehow still working. The frames of his reading glasses, the crystals having been lost to the heat. No matter how deep you dug, his wedding ring was nowhere to be found. And everything else had turned to ash and dust.

Ashes of the vardo. 

Ashes of your memories together.

Ashes of the man.

The love of your life swept away by the wind.

~

You no longer know if it’s day or night. The heavy drapes are closed, and only a few dying embers remain in the hearth. The room is cold, more than usual, robbed from the warmth of fire and the warmth of love. Time passess differently when grief has its clutches around you. Every second is too slow, yet every day moves by too fast. Three days have swept by, maybe four, plus the month of faked departure in which he roamed the fields while you believed him across the pond. His scent is fading from the pillows, from his clothes, from your memory. You sprayed some of his cologne on your wrists but it's not the same because it is not on his skin. It is not mixed with leather, ink and gunpowder. It is not him.

You already fear you are forgetting the right colour of Tommy’s eyes, the various hues mixing in your mind but none seems quite right. Are they the colour of the sky on a bright summer day? The tranquil sea surrounding the ship that took you to your honeymoon on the continent? Do they match the aquamarines from the demi parure he gifted you on your birthday, just because he said their colour suited your skin?

No. No do. Did. Because his eyes are no more. His bright eyes, his rare smiles, his handsome face, his protective hands and everything in between are no more. They are just ash and dust, a pile abandoned in the middle of an open field being swept by the wind and rain.

Floorboards creak on the hallway, but it could be the scurrying maids as much as the wandering spirits that populate your home, souls rooted in the land due to unfinished businesses from their past lives, acting as owner and keepers of a place where you are but a temporary guest. A door slams shut somewhere in the house, and the windows creak and rattle under the assault of the brewing tempest. The room grows icier, if possible, your breath rising in puffs of white. Your fingers feel stiff, achingly clutching onto an old pocket watch. Even the rings in your hands have turned to ice.

You curl tighter into yourself, if possible, your palms pressed to your face to warm your freezing nose and lips. Sleep threatens to take you, but you fight it with all your might, for the only place worse than life right now, is inside your head. The nightmares have chased you ever since that day, each one more horrifying than the last. But the body beats the mind, and your eyelids, heavy as lead, fall shut, your consciousness slipping away in waves.

You cannot be sure how long you slept, or if you did at all, when something startles you into attention. You sit up abruptly, heart beating frenziedly in your chest. The room is pitch dark, and for a moment you are disoriented, unsure of where you are. It takes long seconds for you to notice there’s a body next to yours, and a heavy, warm hand is pressed against your back to support you.

When you turn your head, the scream falls from your lips involuntarily, and you are positive your heart stops briefly. He looks so well, so perfectly well and common, so alive. Your hands are on his face, on his neck, running down his chest and arms as your mind struggles to come to terms with the image in front of your eyes.

“Tommy?”

Shrouded in black, his hair damp and  tousled, and perfectly unharmed. As if he were just returning from a session in Parliament. His hand slides up your body, from your back to your shoulder, then your neck and up to cup your face, thumb brushing against your tear streaked cheek. You lean instinctively against his touch; the warmth from his palm spreads through your skin like a soothing balm. It feels safe; it feels like home, like the place where you belong. 

His free arms circles your waist and pulls you into him, your head tucked between his chin and shoulder and your body pulled onto his lap. Both of your arms wrap tightly around his middle, fearing that if you let go, he would disappear like smoke, forever this time.

“Tommy? Tommy, what happened? Where have you been?” Tears brim again in your eyes, and the coil tightens around your throat “I…I don’t understand. Arthur said that you were…that you were” The word, that word, cannot make it past the knot. The word you so dreaded to accept. “I saw the ashes in the meadow”

He says nothing, nothing besides a hum of acknowledgement at your words. His thumb brushes back and forth against your cheekbone, the other hand tracing lines up and down the length of your spine, causing your belly to flutter. You are confused, terribly so, your thoughts reeling with the need for answers. But Tommy, as usual, offers none, and you don’t really want to spoil the moment, not when your heart is finally at peace after the terrible weeks you’ve endured.

The embrace goes on forever, none of you making effort to move or speak. Every now and then you feel his lips brush against your forehead, or his nose bury in your hair and inhale deeply, drowning himself in your scent. The storm howls outside, windows rattling with the strength of the wind, the glasses mercilessly pelted by ferocious raindrops. By now, the children would usually be awake and crowding your bed, seeking safety under your blankets. But peacefulness reigns their slumber that night, and you are grateful for it. You desperately need this moment alone with your husband.

His head tilts suddenly, just enough to place a gentle kiss against your temple, then his lips brush against the shell of your ear

“I am sorry” His voice is raspy and worn, as if it has not been used in quite some time “For everything. For keeping you in the dark, for not trusting your strength. For everything I put you through” His embrace around you tightens into an almost painful grip, as if he wishes to fuse his body into yours “You are fierce. And strong. The strongest woman I know. You can overcome anything, nothing could tear you down”

For some reason, those words do not sit right with you. They feel ominous, almost like a forever goodbye. You try to crane your neck to get a better look at his face, to read his expression, but he resists, hidden in the curve of your neck. Your heartbeat quickens in panic.

“I am only strong when I have you by my side. I need you, Tommy. These past days have ruined me. I cannot tread upon an earth you do not exist in.” Your fingers dig on the fabric of his coat, and for the first time you notice his clothes are dampened and smell faintly of wet soil and smoke.

Tommy chuckles, the familiar sound reverberating inside your ribs. He shifts again and his lips are against your forehead, continuing to refuse you a clear glimpse of his face.

“You were strong when I met you. You were strong when I tried to push you away for your own safety. And I know you will continue to be. For the family, for our children. They need you. You are their whole world”

Again those words, those threats of a future in which he had no place. The tears come back with renewed strength, blurring your vision and choking the words in your mouth, but you manage to force them. You cannot leave anything unsaid, not if he’s planning to abandon you once more.

“They need their father too” You protest “Please, Tommy. You can’t walk away again. Not when you are back in my arms” Your grip tightened to accentuate your words “I lost you once, I cannot do this again. Please don’t make me do this again Tommy. If you leave, you might as well kill me now, and spare me such misery”

“I can’t stay” The words cut like blades through your heart and lungs, and for a moment, you can’t remember how to breathe “I’ve got to go, but I promise you, I will always be with you. I’ll never leave your side, whether you can see me or not. I will always be your husband, in this life and the next” You cannot be sure, but he seems to be holding back sobs as well “So many things went wrong. So many mistakes that cannot be fixed. What’s done cannot be undone” Those words do not seem directed to you, but rather thoughts spoken out loud, an airing of frustrations he’s kept bottled up.

You pull away from him, so fiercely not even his strength can keep you still. Your hands cup his cheeks and pull him down until his forehead is against yours. You can barely discern his features in the darkness of the bedroom, so you use your fingers to gently trace the slope of his nose, the sharpness of the jaw, the softness of his lips. His breath fans over your face; he smells all over of nature, of dirt, of open fields and pine woods. 

“There is nothing that cannot be undone. Do you hear me? Nothing. Nothing that we can’t work out together” You can barely contain your desperation “You are Thomas Shelby. You can pull down the moon if you desire; you could bend the King to your will. How can you not fix whatever troubles you?”

His hands envelop yours, fingers gently prying yours away; but instead of dropping them, he cradles them gently, bringing them up to his lips to press tender kisses against your knuckles. His lips linger against your wedding ring until the metal warms.

“Not everything is fixable, my love. There are things not even I can undo. Some mistakes are permanent. I tried, tried my whole life, but I am not God, not yet” He pulls you into his chest again, and pulls the blankets around you “But you don’t need to worry about that now. The hour is late and the sun will soon be up. You need to rest, my sweet dove. Sleep and dream; I will be with you”

You wanted to protest, to pull away, to not let him finish things like that. But you suddenly felt terribly exhausted, as if the last days had dropped on top of you with the weight of boulders, and his arms were so comforting. He gently rocked you both back and forth, a hand on the back of your head and the other on your back. The last thing you remember is Tommy murmuring sweet words of love in your ear. You cannot remember them exactly, but you fell asleep with a smile on your lips.

The next morning you awake tucked in bed, buried between pillows and blankets and wearing a clean nightgown. You sigh contently and stretch your arm to the side, towards Tommy’s side, but find it to be cold and empty, feeling something powdery between your fingers.

Your eyes shoot open, sitting so abruptly you see spots dancing in your vision. The room is bathed in sunlight, all the curtains drawn back. Outside there’s a perfect spring morning, and you hear the dogs barking and the gardeners going about their duties. Once your eyes adjust to the brightness, you discover that the powdery thing on the mattress appears to be ash, or dirt, you are not quite sure. The sheets are stained with it, and when you stand from the bed, you find a trail of residue all the way to the door. Upon inspection, you notice some of it has been left on the door handle, as if someone grabbed it with dirty hands.

The door nearly slams on your face as Frances pushes it open, carrying a breakfast tray. You both jump with a startle, but she manages to keep her wits enough to not drop the tray at your feet

“That was quite a scare you gave me there, Mrs. Shelby. But it’s wonderful to see you at last out of bed” Frances says, as she leaves the tray on a small table with two chairs “The nanny has taken the children to the stables, so you have a quiet morning ahead of you”

You reach out to pick your robe, your thoughts still filled with the encounter of the previous night. You want to ask Frances, but choose not to, not wishing to be taken as a madwoman. What would she say if you told her your dead husband had slept in your bed the previous night? So you play ignorance, and sit before the table, your stomach rumbling at the sight of buttered toast

“That’s good, but don’t let them out for too long. It ought to be quite muddy and damp outside from the storm, and I don’t want them getting sick”

Your fingers are curled around the steaming teacup when she speaks again.

“Storm? There was no storm, Mrs. Shelby. I was up quite late and the skies were clear, although it was a moonless night, so everything was quite dark”

The teacup stops midair, and a cold shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps covering your flesh. You had heard the wind, the rain, felt the rattling of the windowpanes and the water running down the pipes. Then, you notice a glint on your ring finger. A glint that was not there the night before.

You now wear two wedding bands. One the perfect size, one a few too big. And outside your window, the blackbirds begin to sing.

[bharatvarsh22]

Create a vibrant summer garden with container gardening. Choose heat-tolerant plants for pots and planters to bring beauty and freshness to your space.

Do Visit: https://bharatvarshnaturefarms.com/container-gardening-for-summer-choosing-heat-tolerant-plants-for-pots-and-planters/

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Show Off - Utahime

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, mirror sex, reader's a bit of a bimbo, utahime is more dominant, lingerie

A/n: Day 12: Lingerie! I'm fighting for my fucking life guys trying to catch up to kinktober

Word count: 2.0k

Read on Ao3

Utahime lifted her gaze up at the miniature store sign above the changing room doors. Stockings!!! And in a cotton-candy neon pink stinging her eyes the longer she held her glare. She sighed.

This was the last place she wanted to be on her off day: Huddled up in the stuffy changing room area of a swanky clothing store, the humidity sticking clothes to her skin. 

But you had insisted (and when had she ever been able to say no to you?), Shoko and Mei Mei voting on the trip as well. It had been unanimous. Utahime had felt particularly betrayed by Shoko. Traitor.

Utahime switched her glare to her phone, the blue-light glare aiding the imminent headache creeping to life. Another sigh.

Of course, there was another reason she didn’t want to be here. Seeing you in tight lingerie was not going to be good for her.

Shoko knew that.

Girls a decade younger giggled as they passed by with their chosen garments packed in designer paper bags. Utahime’s head thudded into the wall.

“How much longer are you guys gonna be?” she whined, fanning herself.

“It won’t be long!” You assured.

“Just a few minutes longer.” Mei Mei’s dulcet tones flitted through the changing room door. 

Utahime snorted to herself. “We all know you’re not going to buy anything.”

Mei peeked out the door, eyes perennially sparkling with ill-intent. “Who said anything about buying?”

Utahime rolled her eyes as  You and Shoko cackled offscreen.

“I found something I like.” That was Shoko. “Having a little trouble with the strap, though —“

Utahime struggled to imagine Shoko being sexy for anybody. But, she supposed, a woman could be sexy for herself. She couldn’t help but ask. “You’re trying on lingerie? What’s the occasion?”

“Why does there have to be an occasion, Uta? Maybe she just wants to look snatched.” Mei Mei echoed her unspoken sentiments.

“In fact, now that we’re on the subject,” Shoko began, “I am seeing a little man on the side.”

You gasped, followed by a harsh zipper sound. “Shoko! You never said!” You sighed wistfully. “Everybody’s got a boo these days.”

Shoko poked her head out this time, smirked at Utahime.

Utahime glared as Shoko giggled and retreated into the changing room.

“Done!” You said.

Anxiety married anticipation in Utahime, whirled her stomach as changing room locks came undone.

Shoko was first, fully dressed again in sweater and jeans — and of course never without a cigarette. “It’s just a bra and I’m buying it,” she said when Utahime gave her a crooked look. “They should let me wear it out if I show them the tag.”

Mei Mei was next, twirling in her new ebony-black corset. “Oh, my paypigs are gonna love this,” she said with a giggle.

Shoko laughed as Mei Mei felt the lacy fabric. Your door opened unceremoniously, jumpscaring the three of them.

Utahime stared wide-eyed and speechless as you presented yourself as though on the runway; it was a matching lacy bra and panties. The cups hugged your breasts in delicious black silk, and lace tickled up your sweet thighs from the stockings. You giggled as Shoko and Mei Mei cooed their approval.

Utahime’s mouth ran dry.

“Do you like it?” You asked her, turning to flash your ass. “Does it look like it fits?”

Utahime swallowed nothing. She composed herself when she felt Shoko smirking, adjusting her baseball cap to conceal a blush she knew was there. 

“It’s — it’s nice,” she told you. “And very pretty on you.”

Your blush tore at Utahime’s heart. “Awww, thanks, Uta!” 

“Let’s check out.” Mei Mei walked from the changing room, the clothes she had arrived with presumably in her bag. “That is, if you ladies are happy with everything?”

“You’re going like that?” Utahime deadpanned. 

“Why, of course!” Mei Mei said, giving another twirl. “Maybe I’ll pick another pig or two on the way home?” 

Mei Mei sashayed out of the changing rooms. 

“Oh, I’m not,” You said, still blushing. You retreated into the changing room and closed the door. “Gotta get this home in one piece, after all! I would have to rip it!”

Shoko sauntered toward Utahime and gave her a wink.

“Take your time,” she murmured before following Mei Mei.

Utahime gave her third sigh of the afternoon and reached down for her bag. 

“Ah!”

Utahime lifted her gaze to your door. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, it’s just — ah, this hook, it’s so stubborn.” Your elbow must have knocked against one of the walls; there was a thump, then another. “Ah, I can’t get it. Uta, d’you think you could come in and help me?”

Utahime’s handbag fell from her hands. “Uh … Y— Yes, sorry, uh, just a second!”

Utahime’s hand quivered over the door; it wasn’t locked. She walked in on trembling legs.

Your back was turned to her, facing the full-body mirror, gaze lowered as you focused on the strap buckle. You groaned after another failed attempt to unhook it.

“You know what, maybe I won’t buy it,” You quipped with a nervous laugh. You glanced in the mirror at Utahime, almost for approval. That was funny, right?

Utahime laughed as she approached, wiping sweaty hands on her jeans. “It’d be a shame; it looks really pretty on you.”

You met Utahime’s gaze in the mirror. She cleared her throat. Slowly, you turned to her. A few seconds of silence as you smiled up at her.

“What’s the point of sexy lingerie if you can’t get out of it?” You said — purred.

Utahime blinked. Had she — had she heard you correctly?

You stepped toward her. “Help me get out of this, Uta?” You batted imploring eyelashes. “Please?”

Utahime’s lips parted as you came forward to plant yours against her jaw. Utahime flinched, froze, her heart drumming in her ears as you kissed down the outline of her jaw to her neck. 

“(Y/n) —!”

She had let you back her into the wall opposite the mirror. Utahime tried to grasp you to stop you — it was a bad idea; everywhere she touched was naked skin or skin housed in lace. You were soft to the touch everywhere.

“Mmm … Yes?”

“What are you doing?” Panic sprang in Utahime’s voice. 

“Mmm …” You raised your head to meet her eye. “Kissing you, silly. What do you think?”

“No,” Utahime moaned. She fixed her hands to your hips as you continued smooching her neck. “Stop. You’re — you’re drunk.”

You faced her again, a soft glare there. “I’m not drunk.” Your hand snaked down her thigh, coming to caress her clothed sex. “I’ve never been more sober, or conscious, of what I’m doing.”

Utahime shivered. She bit her lip as you massaged her cunt through her jeans. Your breasts crushed against hers as you kissed her full on the mouth. Utahime parted her lips in shock, inadvertently inviting your tongue to rub against hers. You bucked against her as you explored her mouth. The friction — 

Utahime felt a damn break; she flipped, flattened you against the wall. She broke the kiss, looked down at you.

“Fine then,” she said. “If this is what you want …!”

Her hand slipped past your silk panties, not yet paid for, and played with your moist slit.

“A—ahah …!” You threw your head back as Utahime slipped fingers into the slit of your cunt. “N — No fair, I think you — hah — should get out of your clothes, too …”

Utahime swept two fingers against your clit, relished your startled moan. She nestled toward your ear. “You’re in no place to make demands.” She yanked your panties down and continued her work on you, fiddling with your clit as you gasped. “Dragging me to this place to watch you prance around like a little slut. You know this set is too small for you, and yet you still …”

She scissored her fingers and squeezed them between your clit, jerking it off as she kissed at the shell of your ear.

“Aah! Ha— aha!” 

“Pipe down,” Utahime ordered, fondling one of your tits. “You want the whole store to hear you?”

Her hand, so occupied with your tit, wandered behind you and, with only one hand unhooked your bra. It fell away to your waist before Utahime threw it to the floor. 

You stared, half-naked and breathless, face brushed with red. “How … can I make it up to you?”

Utahime licked her lips — until she realized she could lick you and brought her fingers from your cunt to suck on. She paused in thought before glancing to the mirror. 

“Take those off.” She motioned toward the panties. “Then sit by the mirror.”

You did as instructed, leaving the stockings on. You strolled to the mirror and sat. 

“Spread your legs,” Utahime said. 

You did so. Utahime knelt by your, steadied on her knees. She brought one hand to cup and play with your neglected breast while the other snaked down the plane of your stomach to your cunt. 

“Look at yourself.” She spread your lips, the slick pooled like a honeypot for you to witness. “So you wanted this? To let me see your slutty clothes?”

You whined as Utahime flicked at your lobe, circled your clit with her fingers.

“Y—Yes!”

“You’re worse than Mei Mei.” Utahime slapped your cunt and you flinched from the sting. “Face the mirror. When I take you home tonight, you’re going to undress me and get me off.”

Utahime sunk her fingers into your slick entrance. She pinched and toyed with your nipple as you squirmed in her care. As ordered, your eyes remained fixed to the mirror. 

“You’re going to eat me out and suck on my clit.” Utahime paused as you cried out; she’d found the rough skin of your g-spot while her thumb flicked at your clit. “That’s how you’re going to make it up to me, understand?”

You arched in her hold as she teased you with a potential orgasm. You nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! Oh, god, I want that so much!”

Utahime kissed and sucked at your neck, adding a third finger at last to your torment. You sucked her fingers in with fervor. She thumbed harder at your clit, her other hand forcing one of your tits up to suck at its nipple.

You trembled as her tongue swirled around your bud, the pace of her fingers impossible to keep up with.

“I’m gonna — aha —!”

Utahime withdrew her fingers.

You gasped. “No! No!”

She caressed your face, slick with your wetness, and forced you to look at her from over your shoulder. 

“I’ve loved you for so long,” she said. “I want you to look at me when you cum, all right?”

You nodded, eyes dreamy. You trembled with anticipation as she snaked her hand back down to your needy cunt and submerged her fingers in again.

You captured Utahime’s lips, kissing and licking her tongue as her fingers worked your insides and clit. 

A string of saliva bridged your lips and hers as you parted, eyes widening with the coming climax.

“Cum for me,” Utahime urged. “Mhm, c’mon, you can do it, cum, cum —“

Utahime cupped your mouth in time to stifle your scream. You clenched around her fingers, but she kept massaging that perfect spot inside you. You fell backward, into bliss and into her as she rode you through your orgasm. 

Utahime watched you fall apart in the mirror. She couldn’t have dreamed of a prettier sight. “That’s a good girl, finally doing what you’re told.”

You came down from your high. You stared up at her dreamily. Utahime withdrew her fingers again, licking away your orgasm from her pruney fingers. 

“Did you know I had feelings for you?” Utahime asked as you came down.

Your eyes glittered. “No — I hoped you did! Oh no!” You looked to your drenched stockings, then to the bra and panties strewn over. “I didn’t pay for those!”

“Don’t worry.” Utahime said. “I’ll buy them for you. I want to see you in them again.”

[cheegu3]

Hi, I loved your glory based enha fic so much! Please do a part 2 or sequel of it? I want to see why they bully and kiss the mc at same time. Maybe you can make it yandere since you mentioned that it was not?

Honestly I'm new to your blog but love your work so much!

I've gotten many requests like this, so I decided to make a mini series out of it, technically it's my first series to finish so lower ur expectations everyone lol. Thank you so much for reading and supporting my work, welcome & love u !! <3

dc list (all the ppl that requested a pt.2) - @ceeesxy-blog, @roses-and-blue-perennial-salvia, @/anons special thanks to @muminpopz, for giving me the idea to introduce a second character !!

to clarify - my last part was still yandere, that's why they wanted to kiss her, I think I wrote that in my last fic bc it wasn't really mentioned much.

note; I haven't planned the plot 100% so voting will probably be a big part of deciding what happens next, only the first ones to read (24hrs) get to vote but u can still leave your opinions in the comments <3

this is a bit long, I apologize in advance, I am determined to give this an ending now lol

wc; 4.4k

pairing; enha x f.m reader

featuring; yeonjun & soobin (txt)

tw / trigger warning; yandere themes, severe bullying, the glory inspired, scars, mentions of forced kissing, mentions of drinking and smoking, trauma, swearing

pt.1

Enhypen - the glory (PT.2)

The irritating fluorescent lights flickering above made you scrunch your nose and turn on your side. Those damn hospital lights reminded you of those moments you'd spent there a couple of years ago, when your mom needed treatment for her illness. They felt eerie, almost like a weakening heartbeat flickering back at you while you stared at them.

Now here you were, back at the hospital again. Your dad had accidentally spotted the burns, poking out from under your shirt as you raised your arms above your head to put something on a shelf. Wishing you'd been more careful was useless now as you looked at the sleeping form of your dad slumped over the dreary hospital bed.

Your bullies had no idea you were in the hospital, but surely they'd be notified soon enough. There was no way your dad would let this thing go after seeing how badly they left you. He had dried tears on his hollow cheeks that made your heart twist painfully in guilt.

Although it wasn't your fault at all, you didn't want to be a burden to him. He already worked more than his body could handle, constantly stressed with the increasing workload his company gave him.

'' Miss, y/n? ''

You sat up straight at the sound of a nurse. She approached your bed with a sympathetic smile on her face, and you felt bad for her too. She looked young, too young - had you scarred her as well with your injuries? They weren't very nice to look at after all.

'' Yes? '' you whispered, eyes fleeting briefly to your dad sleeping to let the nurse know not to wake him up.

'' We've administered some soothing cream and medicine in case the pain gets too unbearable. If you wish, you may go home now. ''

You nodded. '' Thank you. ''

You reached out your hand and gently pat your dad. He grunted and slowly got up, stretching his sore neck as he slowly started waking up. He looked at you questioningly instead of asking what was wrong.

'' They said I could go home. ''

He sighed, maybe a bit louder than he had intended to because a look of regret flashed across his face, hurriedly he assured you, '' I wasn't worried about the bills, honey. ''

You knew he was but you didn't say anything. The promise of your warm, comfortable bed waiting at home was enough for you to stay quiet, even during the whole ride home.

Hearing the additional quiet sighs of your exhausted dad behind you when you hurried to your bedroom, made another pang of guilt hit you. But this time you ignored it too - another more important thought was filling up your mind now.

What would happen at school tomorrow?

You slipped under the heated covers and as a result of the long day, you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

*******

You were one of the earliest students to arrive this time. Taking your designated spot at the back of the class, your head naturally fell into your arms as you yawned off the morning grogginess.

Before you left that morning, your dad had given you a smile and told you that, ' If those punks give you trouble again, call me '. But he had said so while balancing both his files and a cup of nearly spilled coffee, along with a laptop tucked under his arm. You'd seen him for maybe a few minutes before he disappeared off to work again.

You smiled a bit melancholically, knowing that if trouble did arise you wouldn't call him. Hopefully you wouldn't have a reason to do so anyway; maybe they'd be more gentle with you since they gave you such a harsh punishment last time.

The bell rang, startling you and making you raise your head. The class was pretty much full now. By instinct your eyes dart to where they always sat. Surprisingly, they were all in their seats but didn't seem to be paying you too much attention.

A few of them looked sleepy, slumped over their desks like you had been just a minute ago. The others had dark circles under their eyes and stared blankly towards the blackboard.

Rough night? They almost looked like they'd been out partying. You scoffed. It wouldn't shock you if they had; they sometimes smelled of smoke as they'd kiss you in the gym, so you wouldn't put it past them to drink during a school night too.

'' Good morning, class! '' the teacher's cheerful voice cut through the room.

The tired students responded back but in a much less bright tone.

'' We have a new student today. A transfer from Ansan. ''

The murmur from the usual chatty students stopped, and it became dead quiet. Just then the classroom door slid open and a tall, very good-looking guy crouched to get in.

'' This is Soobin, please introduce yourself. '' the teacher smiled.

'' Hi everyone, I'm Soobin. Nice to meet you. '' he said solemnly.

He sounded a bit shy and he didn't keep eye-contact with the students for long, eyes dashing anxiously from person to person while he clasped his hands together.

When his eyes landed on you, you smiled politely. Based on first impressions alone, it was clear as day to anyone that this guy didn't seem like a bully, so you wanted to be nice to him.

It's not easy being new, you knew that very well when you had to transfer during the second part of the first year. Back then, there weren't any people like you that would want to take care of the newcomer, like you wanted to take care of Soobin - and that's how you became their target. You couldn't let that happen to this guy.

'' You can take the seat next to y/n, that one in the back. '' you heard the teacher say.

You smiled again, that would certainly make things a bit easier as he would be sitting closer to you than your bullies. The part where you actually had to try to become friends was harder. You couldn't remember the last time you had a friend.

Soobin cautiously walked over to his seat, keeping his eyes down the whole time. He looked even taller up close, and he barely fit in his seat which made you snort quietly to yourself.

The teacher turned her back and started writing on the board as the murmur returned again. You fiddled nervously with your fingers before finally turning your head to him, determination shining in your eyes.

He must've seen you do so in his peripheral vision because he looked at you too, his bunny-like eyes growing twice its size.

'' Hi, I'm y/n. ''

'' Yeah, she...uh said so. '' he gestured to the teacher and then seemed to cringe at himself.

You let out a light laugh, maybe you were both equally awkward.

'' I guess she did. '' you gave him a genuine smile, one that reached your eyes. It had been a long time since you'd smiled in that way.

'' I'm Soobin. '' he seemed to relax when he saw your smile, a small one played on his own lips as he observed you timidly.

'' I know, she said that. '' you teased back.

He chuckled and you thought you saw him blush before he turned to pick up his notebooks from his backpack. You did the same, starting to copy the material from the board.

'' Hey, is it- okay if I eat lunch with you later? I know it's a weird thing to ask, but I don't really have anyone. '' he quickly rambled after you had been taking notes for some time.

'' I mean, you don't have to say yes if you already have someone you're eating with I just thought I'd ask. ''

A shy pout formed on his lips, seemingly indicating that he felt that he had embarrassed himself again. But you found it cute.

'' No, that sounds perfect. I don't really have any friends either. '' you admitted.

'' Oh. ''

'' It's okay. '' you laughed.

And then the two of you continued studying, while the sweet promise of having someone to finally eat lunch with was circling inside your mind.

*******

When the bell rang, you quickly packed up your things and waited for Soobin outside. You were slightly scared that if you were one of the last ones to leave, then your bullies would catch you red-handed and see your newfound friendship, prompting them to do something to the new student.

Soobin looked happy walking by your side, completely oblivious to all the stares and whispers that followed the two of you. He was even humming something, moving his head slightly all the way through the queue in the cafeteria to the walk to your table.

You chose one that was out of sight from the entrance, just in case they'd eat today. They often didn't - being from snobby rich families and all, they were grossed out by the cafeteria food and would usually drive home during lunch or go out to a restaurant together.

Someone must've told them about you and Soobin however, because you suddenly heard the table next to you gasp and gossip.

'' Why are they eating here today? ''

One of the girls glanced towards you, and when the others noticed, they all looked at you. Soobin looked confused, he stopped midway with his mouth open and his chopsticks carrying the food dropped it clumsily.

They giggled at him. But you couldn't even find humour in something like that when you had a bad feeling in your stomach. They were probably right when they looked at you as the answer to their question.

But why? Why would this make them angry? What would they do to Soobin now?

'' Hey, y/n. ''

You raised your head cautiously, dreading to see them. The fact that they seemed so out of it during the lesson shouldn't have made you feel so confident that it meant they'd avoid you all day.

Jake was the one who stood slightly in front of the group, the others gave threatening glares to students that looked like they wanted to intervene, making them hurriedly scurry away.

'' Yes? '' you couldn't hide the irritation in your voice.

'' What do you think you're doing? '' Jake cocked an eyebrow and then his attention was caught Soobin who was peacefully eating.

Your bullies seemed to assess him from head to toe which made the poor new student look very uncomfortable, causing him to squirm in his seat and clear his throat.

'' Eating lunch? '' you snarkily respond and then attempt to go back to eating while ignoring them.

You heard a scoff.

'' Did we say you could do that? '' Jay sneered, looking down at you.

Your cheeks started heating up and you turned your head as it started to show. The whole thing being done in front of Soobin made it feel ten times worse. Had you now lost a potential friend because they wanted to embarrass you like this on his first day?

You were about to respond but were interrupted by them all abruptly moving to squeeze in next to you and Soobin. The two of you exchanged confused looks.

'' We just wanted to join, can we not do that? '' Sunghoon winks to the flustered new student, who nods hesitantly.

But your lack of answer didn't satisfy them. Heeseung who sat closest to you, rested his hand on your exposed thigh as his eyes held a non-spoken warning in them.

'' Of course. '' you respond flatly, earning a satisfied grin from him.

It felt like you were holding your breath all throughout that excruciatingly long lunch. They'd never eaten with you before and it became clear quite quickly that the reason they did so today wasn't because of you - but, because of Soobin.

All throughout, their focus was on him and not you. It made you feel uneasy, like they had something up their sleeves. The new student was asked questions enthusiastically, which he answered happily as he slowly got out of his shell more and more. But you noticed the looks and the smirks they shared when he wasn't looking. Problem was that any time you'd try to warn Soobin, that hand would return back to your thigh. Heeseung didn't need to say anything, you knew not to test it. Still you hoped you'd have the chance to warn him later.

The reason why was because the way they treated Soobin on his first day made you get a horrible sense of deja-vu. In an instant you were transported back in time to your very own first day.

*******

You overheard girls talking in the halls while waiting for the teacher outside the classroom; about some guy they had hooked up with.

'' Are you fucking stupid? '' one of the girls sudden aggressive outburst made you perk your ears up without meaning to.

You didn't exactly have anything else to occupy your bored mind with while waiting anyway, so you eavesdropped a little.

'' Lee Heeseung? You hooked up with the Lee Heeseung? ''

Shifting your weight and turning over while pressed against the wall, you tried to get a good look at the poor girl who seemed to have gotten taken advantage of.

'' He's a known fuckboy and player. '' the angry one continued.

The girl you assumed was the topic of conversation shrugged, but she had a slight sad frown on her face.

'' I thought that...maybe I could change him. ''

The two others girls erupted into shrill laughter. You couldn't help but feel some sympathy for her despite her bad decisions. The teacher interrupted just as you were about to ask them about the guy, so you could avoid him.

'' Y/n? Are you ready? ''

You grimaced and nodded, giving one last look at the girl before following the teacher into the classroom.

Immediately a small pang of panic hit you. It wasn't empty like you'd expected, in fact - pretty much every single chair was filled with a student.

'' Good morning, class! '' the teacher's cheerful voice brought you back to reality.

You just had to introduce yourself and then the danger was over. You could spend the rest of the day glued to your desk, not talking to anyone and when lunchtime would hit, the convenience store across the school was your best bet.

'' We have a new student today. A transfer from Seongnam. ''

'' This is y/n, please introduce yourself. ''

You looked at the teacher, slight panic evident in your eyes. Clearing your throat you stepped forward a few steps.

'' Hi everyone, I'm y/n. Nice to meet you. ''

Your anxiety slowly started dissapating when a few students answered back politely and you released a breath you didn't know you'd been holding in.

'' You can take the seat next to Heeseung, that one in the back. '' you heard the teacher say, she was gesturing towards the back right of the classroom where a bunch of guys were huddled over one table, too busy talking to register what the teacher had said.

You obediently walked over there and tried not to make a scene when you put your things on the chair that was closest to the table they were all gathered around.

To your dismay, the owner of the popular table had noticed you in the corner of his eye. He quickly waved everyone away and then focused his attention on you.

It was very hard to ignore.

'' Hey, sweetheart. ''

No matter how hard you fought back to not show any reaction, your face scowled at the sound of his nickname, earning an abrupt laugh from one of the boys.

You were sure this meant bad news for you, a guy like that wouldn't want to be humiliated in front of his whole friend-group, so you quickly gave him a sheepish smile.

'' Yes? ''

Your innocent tone made his eyes narrow as more of the boys laughed. The longer you kept eye-contact, the more you felt him openly glare with something you couldn't quite explain glinting in his brown gaze.

Before he could embarrass himself in front of his friends further, he stood up so suddenly that the chair underneath made a loud screeching noise. To you surprise, everyone minded their business which was very different from your last school where everyone was nosy and the sound would've immediately made people whip their heads around in curiosity.

He dragged the chair as close as he could to next to yours, so close that the material was slightly pushing into your bare thigh.

Your eyebrows knit together as you watched him sit down. It was way too close for your comfort; you could even smell his cologne and the fact that it was so obvious it was an expensive one made you immediately annoyed.

He leaned in now, being just a few inches above your ear and most likely shielding you from his friends.

'' Do you know who I am? ''

Your loud scoff for answer seemed to enrage him even more. His much larger hand found your wrist and easily trapped it in a painful grip.

'' No, sorry. '' you hurriedly answer, feeling a lot less brave now, your wrist was already starting to hurt.

'' I'm Heeseung, remember that. ''

In your scared state, your head seemed to move on its own, rapidly nodding obediently. A victorious smirk appeared on his face before he finally retreated, dragging the chair behind him back to the group.

You dreaded the sound of the bell ringing. Predicting that he'd be standing right outside the classroom waiting for you with his friends. It was a long shot, but you tried taking the other door.

'' Hee? ''

You gasped, bumping into a taller male's chest. When you backed away and looked up, you cursed under your breath - it was one of his friends.

It seemed that they had thought of the possibility of you attempting to flee. The thought made your cheeks turn red.

Heeseung joined his friends who'd been guarding the door you tried to escape out of. Looking down at you very arrogantly, as if he could read your face and your thoughts, knowing you were flustered.

'' Did you try to run away? '' he snickered, putting his hands in his pockets and tilting his head at you.

It had the effect you were sure he wanted, you felt mocked and avoided his eyes.

'' Sorry. ''

He hummed before you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist again.

'' Let's go. ''

You went with them without protesting. Although you feared where they were taking you, you feared speaking and potentially getting on their nerves because of it, way more.

They were quiet the whole way, which seemed to never end. You passed by many classrooms, the cafeteria and walked down the loneliest and darkest corridor; yet they only spoke when the ones in front of the group seemed to come to a halt in front of a double door.

'' Open it. '' you heard one of the ones behind you say.

The tallest of the group, who was in front, unlocked it instantly and the lock fell to the floor in a loud thump. He pushed it open all the way, revealing a very large gymnast hall.

'' Why did you take me here? ''

It had become quite clear very fast that these people weren't someone you should mess with, and they were pretty high up on the school's hierarchy judging by the way no one interfered; instead pretending like they didn't see you pass by.

You made a quick guess that whenever they needed something, like the perfect place to do something bad to someone without others hearing - they were given it in one way or another. Maybe some poor student had been forced to get the keys from the teacher just to satisfy them.

'' Go sit over there. ''

Your head follow the voice. It was a pretty tall guy who was undeniably very handsome, from his silver hair and defined eyebrows to his deep voice, everything about him was pretty attractive.

It made you wonder what he wanted with you.

You didn't ponder on that thought long however, moving in a haste again to make sure they didn't get angry. Jumping up on the plinth he had pointed at, you watched nervously as they all approached the stairs leading up to a stage that your back was facing.

Without them needing to tell you to, you automatically turned around just in time for them to form a half-mood around you. Trying to read their faces was very difficult as they all looked at Heeseung who was sitting straight across from you, staring right back.

'' Why did you take me here? '' you try to ask again.

'' Well...I- we like you '' he answered simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

'' What? '' you say dumbfoundedly.

'' I was trying to hit on you earlier, I don't know if you noticed. '' Heeseung bit down hard on his lip to stop himself from smiling.

'' But being nice didn't really work on you, did it? ''

'' We realised that with you, we need to use more extreme methods. '' a new voice said, one of the ones that hadn't said a word to you yet, who had strawberry blond hair and a soft voice.

'' Wh-What do you mean by that? '' your eyebrows knit together as your eyes darted anxiously between the two closest to you, being prepared to run if you had to.

'' I'm Sunghoon. '' the silver haired-boy said, ignoring your question.

'' I'm Jake. '' said the guy next to him.

Your gaze naturally averted to him. He looked like an innocent puppy, you wondered why he was friends with people like Heeseung. But when your eyes locked, he winked at you and you got your answer, face quickly turning into a grimace of disgust.

'' I'm Ni-ki. '' the tallest one said.

'' I'm Sunoo. '' the gentle one said, catching you off-guard when he flashed a big friendly grin.

'' Jungwon. '' the one closest to you on the other side said grumpily, not even bothering to look at you while saying it.

His red hair that seemed to be fading, was a perfect match to his personality, the whole time he looked like he was in a sour mood.

'' I'm Jay. '' the one furthest from you said.

He looked like a pretty scary guy, dark hair that was cut in a way that framed his sharp features.

'' That's everyone. Don't forget their names, okay? '' Heeseung spoke up last, tilting his head while smiling slightly at you.

Your voice didn't seem to work, you felt frozen in your spot, like you were glued to the plinth underneath you.

'' Can you not speak? ''

You saw anger flash across his face which only made your panic worse, but you couldn't get a single word out despite it, only a string of stutters and incomprehensible words left your mouth.

'' Do you want me to help you? ''

Not even registering that he had gotten up from his seat, you were taken by surprise when his rough hands grabbed either side of your face as his lips devoured you.

You tried to scream or turn your head so he couldn't have access to your mouth, but it was to no avail. Eventually your hands fell limp. All you could do was pray that it would end quickly, while your whines of protest were muffled by his hungry lips.

When he pulled away, he had a cocky smile on his face.

'' Get used to this. '' were his last words you heard before they left, forever engrained in your mind.

And that was how it started. No matter how much it happened, which was pretty much every other day after school at this point - it still didn't get easier, your clothes always got stained with tears. Their voices didn't help calm you down when you'd see the obvious desire in their eyes. They were like a hungry pack of wolves, just waiting for their turn with the prey

*******

The school bell rang after about half an hour, instantly snapping you out of your daydream. Your bullies said their goodbyes and then left, with one last look at you. But you shrugged it off and immediately leaned over the table to talk to Soobin.

'' Don't trust them, please! They might be all nice and sound like they actually want to be your friend but they're horrible bullies and- '' you hesitated before pulling up your sleeve to reveal the marks they'd left on you. '' They did this to me! Trust me...they're not good people. ''

Soobin's eyed widened in horror and his hand slightly twitched, as if he was either holding back the urge to clench his fist in anger, or resisting the urge to reach out and gently touch your wounds.

'' I'm sorry. '' was all he said after some time of silence.

You smiled a bit apologetically, pulling down the sleeve again. He seemed sweet and you didn't want to cause him distress for no reason, it just felt a lot more impactful if you showed him to make him believe you.

'' It's okay, I'm sure you didn't know. They're quite charming at first, that's how they get you. ''

'' I'm a bit offended that you thought I fell for it though. '' Soobin snickered.

'' What? ''

'' You think I believed all that bullshit, right after they spoke to you very passive-aggressively and basically shot daggers my way? ''

'' Uh...well, yeah? ''

He laughed heartily and stood up, you following as he threw the trash off his tray away.

'' That actually makes me feel a bit better. '' you mumblingly confess.

The pair of you walked together to class and spent the next few lessons and breaks together as well, surprisingly unbothered by your bullies this time since you were with someone for the first time in a long time.

At the end of the day when the bell rang, Soobin asked to hang out. He said he wanted to introduce you to his older brother and said he had something to talk about. You reluctantly agreed, but were on guard the whole taxi ride to his house since he was still a stranger.

His house was pretty big, located close to where the richest families in the country lived. He however claimed he wasn't rich; that it was his step-father that was pretty well off, but they didn't have a good relationship so he didn't spoil him.

'' Who are you? ''

You stared at the older male leaning against his desk. His eyes narrowed as they bore into you. Then they shifted to his younger brother who immediately straightened up.

'' It's my new friend, y/n. ''

'' Okay? ''

'' Yeonjun, please be a bit nicer. She needs our help. '' Soobin begged.

A puzzled expression overtook your face as you tugged on his sleeve.

'' What do you mean? ''

'' I will help you take them down. '' he said, a smirk slowly creeping up on his lips. '' Every, single one of them. ''

-

[ladamedusoif]

Silvered

(Tim Rockford x f!reader)

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Word count: ~ 800 words

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); established relationship; PiV sex; voice kink; Tim is a smooth talker; this is literally just smut; but it’s got some sweetness

Summary: Tim Rockford’s talented silver tongue has a reputation, in more ways than one.

Notes: It started as some horny group chat thots based on that Tim gifset and then my perennial menaces enablers, @julesonrecord and @agentjackdaniels, told me I should post it. So I did.

When you first started dating Tim, you learned quickly that his “silver tongue” was something of a running joke at the precinct. He could charm anyone, his colleagues said - suspect, witness, informant, fellow officers. It was one of the reasons, they said, that he’d been able to rise so successfully through the ranks. Over beers at their favourite bar, you smiled as they good-naturedly teased him about his way with words.

“No need for ‘good cop, bad cop’ with Rockford,” one of the other detectives had said, shaking her head as she swigged her beer. “Just breaks out that voice, and bam - information secured. Silver tongue strikes again.”

That was the first time Tim spent the night. Stretched out on your bed later, you swiftly came to know just how much more that silver tongue could do, beyond winning over informants and cracking cases. How many times did he make you come with his mouth alone, that first night? Three? Four?

No matter the number. It was enough to leave you boneless, yielding, entirely and wholly under his spell. Enough to have you ready and willing to tell him everything, anything, to give him the lot - just as long as he would keep those soft, pink lips sealed tightly around your pussy, and that silver tongue plotting new courses over and around your clit.

He went about the business of eating you out just as he did any case. Lay the evidence out in front of him, study it, and work it methodically, carefully, precisely. He held himself back from getting too excited until he knew when he was on the right track - usually one or two orgasms in, when the wetness was pooling at the tops of your legs and your hips started to buck against his face as he pulled another from you.

Tonight, he’s building you up to a third, languidly swirling his tongue over that sensitive, swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations reverberating through your centre and enhancing the pleasure all the more. “One more, baby,” Tim mutters, pulling back slightly to survey the mess he was making of you. He slips his fingers into your cunt as he looks up at you, dark eyes glittering and nose still nudging at your mound.

And then he’s back, tongue lapping and swirling and dipping into the wet heat of your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

The pressure mounts beautifully deep within you - exquisite torment, glorious ache, as you know you’re nearing the edge. Instinctively, you reach down just before you succumb, winding your fingers tightly through Tim’s dark, silver-streaked curls. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he purrs delightedly at the sensation.

You hold him there for another moment or two, and then pull his head back firmly so that you can see him - and he can see you - as you fall apart on his skilled, clever tongue. His eyes sparkle as they gaze into yours, sharing a moment so erotic, so lewd, and so intimate and soft.

Tim groans with pleasure as he helps you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, revelling in the taste and feel and smell of your sex. You’ve never seen him move up the bed, unzip his pants, and take you so quickly. He cages you with his arms, bends forward to kiss you, and lets you taste yourself on his mouth as he fucks you.

You know he isn’t going to last. Most of the time he’s an expert in that department, always making sure you come first while sustaining your mutual pleasure. He’s gentlemanly like that. Won’t finish until you do.

Tonight, though, the combination of your taste, your wetness soaking his face, moustache, and beard, and above all the way you jerked his head back so you could look deep into his eyes as you came hard against his mouth is just too much. Frankly, Tim thought later, you were lucky he didn’t ruin his freshly dry-cleaned dress pants there and then.

A couple of hard thrusts and he’s coming inside you, moaning loudly as he finds his own release and reward deep within your body. He collapses onto your chest, shifting down to rest his head against the soft, sweat-veiled skin of your breasts.

Tim drifts into the kind of deep, restorative sleep he’s only ever experienced since he started dating you. His breath is warm against your body and you hold him close. Idly, you play with his damp curls, and trace a gentle caress with your thumb along his plush lower lip.

[yuurei20]

Hello, I was just wondering on what did Grim bluntly say in the Savanaclaw novel that made the said dorm members really offended and riled up to which led to the Diasomnia students rubbing the salt to their ego? From the Classroom translation I mean.

Hello hello! ^^ Thank you for this question!

(For those who may not know, this is in reference to what comes directly before the translation below!)

Short answer: Grim threw a temper tantrum! 🐱

Long Answer: here is a translation ^^

“’Whaddya mean? I’m a Night Raven College student. That means I can play in the tournament, right? Right!?’

Grim looks to Crewel for support, but Crewel shakes his head. ‘Exceptions cannot be made for team sizes. I understand where you are coming from, but there is no changing the rules of the game. Place your hopes on welcoming new students next year—this year, you may just need to give up…’

‘I dun wanna!’

Realizing that even the sombre-faced Crewel will not be able to help him, Grim throws a tantrum.

‘I wanna be on TV, and hear people sayin’ ‘Grim is so cool,’ an’ ‘I’ve never seen a super play like that!’

As their two desks are connected, Grim’s outburst shakes Yuuya’s desk as well.

‘Grim, let’s calm down,’ Yuuya attempts to stop him, but Grim shows no sign of even hearing him. With a comment on the oddly specific nature of Grim’s fantasy, Ace and Deuce each give Yuuya an exasperated look.

‘Throwing a tantrum isn’t gonna change anything,' says Ace. 'And it’s nuts that you think you’d stand out at all, even if you did get in. That’s Grim for you.’

‘It’s true—you didn’t even know the rules until just now,’ Deuce follows. ‘Did you pay attention to Professor Crewel’s explanation of how difficult it is?’

It’s exactly as they say. Quiet laughter echoes throughout the classroom—it seems everyone has been thinking the same thing.

Hearing Grim’s low-pitched growl, Yuuya quickly covers Grim’s mouth. The last thing they need is fire breathing in the classroom.

There is also the question of whether or not self-proclaimed Ramshackle Dorm is considered on the same level as the other seven at all. As an official tournament, they have little choice but to give up on the spelldrive competition.

‘Grim. I can’t participate in magic-based events anyway, and you won’t be able to manage it on your own.’

‘Mrah. But, but…it’s my big chance to shine…’

Yuuya tries to reason with him, but Grim only slumps forward on his desk as though having melted.

The student in front of them is shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

'There's no way that Ramshackle can compete on the same level as our dorm—that’s a crowning moment. Us, being mocked like that? We wouldn’t stand for it.’

From a slight distance comes a low voice. 

‘You hear that? Savanaclaw is talking all big, like they’re not the perennial losers.’

And with that, the atmosphere of the entire classroom has changed.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Deuce, Sebek: Like a Flower, Forever Blooming

Why does it look like Deuce is proposing to you with a tray of donut rings— WEH 😭 The birthday boy looks so handsome and gallant!! (Not usually the kind of comment I make for Deuce cksbsksnw) For some reason I tend to really like Deuce’s birthday cards…

His groovy is kinda funny too; Deuce looks like he wants to fight Alice… Interesting, because Ace acts in Alice-like ways, and he and Deuce are constantly bickering www

A Tale as Old as Time.

A girl found herself wandering into an enchanted garden. She was a tiny thing in her blue dress and pinafore, smiling sweetly at the colorful blooms surrounding her. They bore faces, those flowers—eyes, noses, and mouths, their expressions varying from curious to snarky.

The sunshine of the girl’s long locks, a youth sparkling with sensibility. They were a familiar sight.

It’s something straight from a story back home, Deuce thought.

He scrounged around for a smart comment to demonstrate his wit, his maturity. At last, he settled on: "I had no idea there were so many different looking flowers. I can barely name a few kinds.”

A dismissive grunt sounded.

"Hmph! You hail from the Queendom of Roses, don't you? And Heartslabyul is famous for its roses as well. You should be more familiar with the flora!" Sebek scolded him with a frown. "Have you no pride for your country or dormitory?! Truly, your behavior is beyond the pale!"

"I just never really paid much attention to the flowers before... I'm not the kind of guy with a green thumb. The most I do is paint the roses when the dorm leader tells me it's my turn."

"Unbelievable!! You disparage the noble perennials with that flippant attitude of yours!" Sebek shook his head. “Were you to lay your gaze upon Briar Valley in the springtime, you would surely come to appreciate them."

“Pere-what?”

“Perennials!!” Sebek folded his arms. He lifted his chin. “Don’t tell me you’re unaware of what they are! You must not be very well-read, human!!”

“O-Of course I know what they are!” Deuce stammered. “Wh-Who hasn’t heard of a para-knee-old before?!”

His fellow first year casted a doubtful look at him.

“… Okay, maybe I don’t,” Deuce admitted. His shoulders deflated along with his defiance.

“Perennials,” Sebek smirked triumphantly, “are flowers that return year after year. Roses are among them, but there are many others that fall into the category.

“When they bloom in the warm season, it is a scene to behold, a feast for the eyes! Then, come fall and winter, they wither and fade… and in spring and summer, they are born again! It is a most glorious, never-ending cycle.”

“Ah, so they live and die, then they’re brought back to life. Over and over… Endlessly?”

The gears in Deuce’s head slowly turned. Their teeth clicked into place, sparking a realization, a light in flickering on in his face.

“Oh?" The smugness in Sebek's voice was front and center. "Have you been swayed already? It certainly didn’t take much to persuade you.”

“I think I get it now, Sebek. Flowers are cool after all!” Deuce slammed a fist into an open palm. “Growing, getting older, dying, and coming back to life again… They’re like phoenixes!”

“In what way are flowers like phoenixes?!” Sebek bellowed, his volume shaking the paintings lined up on the walls. His words, however, seemed to fall on deaf ears.

“I wanna be like that too!! As tough as a flower that bounces back year after year!” Deuce passionately declared. “If I get knocked down, I’ll just get back up again! There’s gonna be no stopping me!”

He paused. "... Do you think I should add some flaming flower decals onto my Magical Wheel?"

"You've failed to take to heart a single insightful thing I've told you!! I would hardly consider this a revelation!" Sebek groaned, a hand upon his temple.

Typical foolhardy human, he surmised with a scoff. But still, he could sense a fighter when he saw one. The determination in Deceus's eyes was unmistakable. A blue-green as sharp and as clear as a cloudless summer's day, like a sword cleaving the heavens in half.

He had seen it many times over.

It was the look of a warrior.

"Listen here, human! There are a great many number of opponents in this world whose power may rival or even exceed your own. When you should encounter such strong foes… I hope you stand your ground. To betray your own promise would be disgraceful!”

“You saying I’d go back on my word?! No way! I definitely won’t run. That’s a coward’s way out.” Deuce grinned daringly—dangerously. “No matter what comes my way, I’ll own up to it. I’ll take it all on!”