#getty challenge

[dyingroses]

Throwback to the times I tried to imitate paintings while quaranting and finishing uni in a hotel room.

[gettiregretti]

For the kiss prompt: a kiss against tear stained cheek

It felt wrong to see Alex cry.

He was such a bastion of his own emotions; all rock walls around whatever he was feeling inside. To see him let it out made Zeb uneasy. He was moving forward before he’d even registered it, sliding a hand to grip the back of Alex’s neck and pulling him close. Apart from the tears, Alex was still as stone. It was like he’d shut down completely.

“Hey now, quit that. Ain’t nothing to cry about,” Zeb murmured gently. He pressed Alex into his chest, enveloping him. The tears felt warm against Zeb’s neck.

“Nothing?” Alex protested, voice thick. Suddenly he fought Zeb’s grip and beat on his chest, aim clumsy and fists furious. “For an entire week I have thought you dead. I grieved you, Garazeb Orrelios!”

“Well, I’m not dead. You’ll just have’ta forgive me.” Zeb ducked his head and pressed a single, apologetic kiss against the damp beard of Alex’s cheek. Alex paused his thumping. Then he wriggled free and slapped both hands either side of Zeb’s face.

“You bastard,” he said with feeling, glittering eyes pinning Zeb where he was caught. “Doing that now, when you’re home. After I sat here and regretted-!”

“Didn’t want to make it harder on you if I didn’t come back,” Zeb admitted, shoulders rising in a half shrug.

“As if not saying it aloud made the feelings any less real…” Alex scoffed.

“So they are real?” Zeb asked, grin creeping across his face.

Alex went red, expression indignant. The words seemed to catch inside him. “I should leave you here and ignore you for the rest of the cycle.“

“But you won’t. Because your feelings are real,” Zeb echoed once again.

“Of course they’re real, must you really make me-“

Zeb cut him off, this time with a kiss to his lips.

[lordchairesq]

dog art

[jobsbuster]

https://www.easterneye.biz/will-jacks-kohli-bengaluru-gujarat/

[ranoshfamily]

🚨Emergency🚨

Help Rana’s family toleave Gaza before it too late

Hello humanities 🤗🤗

Please read this as if I'm a member of your family . maybe your sister, daughter or a friend and as if my family who's under death now is yours.

"I am a computer Engineer and Mom for 3 children from Gaza , Rana Hassan Alabsi, with a strong ambition and perseverance. Over the past 10 years, I've worked tirelessly, I've dedicated myself to my family, working hard, planning, building my career. Despite facing challenges, I became a well-known professional engineer in Gaza.

 

Unfortunately, my life has been upside down since Oct ,Since that particular day, thousands of innocent lives have been lost in Gaza, many of innocent people lost their works and the only source of income like me.

Me and my childrens 1 of them, he is10 years old with downsyndrom and need a safer place and health care to still a live, left our home under the continuous bombardment and artillery strikes, on foot, without carrying with us our personal supplies, clothes, or Even our money, heading from Gaza to Deir al-Balah. There in Deir al-Balah we lived the most difficult days of our lives in a shelter with scarce resources, sleeping on the ground.

Without covers, without drinking a healthy water, then we moved to Khan Yunis after the intensification of the strikes and bombing, Then we moved to Rafah in the hope that we would find safety there or find a way out of Gaza to a safe place that we dream of for the future of our children,Let us live a happy, safe life for us and our children, and keep them away from all this pain, destruction, and siege, and spare them from the miserable future that will await them if the situation continues as it is in Gaza.

I come to you with a heavy heart and an urgent call for help. My family are currently caught in the war in Gaza, facing the harsh reality of an escalating crisis. The situation is dire, and I am reaching out for your support to facilitate their safe passage to Egypt. In this moment of desperation, I share the situation where it has taken a toll on their well-being.

This urgent plea is not only for their safety but also for the health of my son, who is facing serious conditions that demand immediate attention.

My family is trapped in an environment where access to necessary medical care is severely limited. The escalating crisis compounds the urgency, especially considering my son's health conditions. Time is of the essence, and we are in a race against it to get him the vital medication and care he desperately needs.

My loved childrens are in a situation beyond their control. The fear in their eyes and the desperation in their hearts are indescribable. I implore you to be a beacon of hope for them, to be the force that guides them to safety. To be honest, the journey to safety comes with a significant financial burden.

We need the money to cover practical costs of transportation, documentation, a place to stay and shelter in and other essentials required for a safe crossing to Egypt. And so that they can take care of other needs once they cross safely. As of late April the evacuation fee ranges between $8,000 and $10,000 per person, before processing and transport fees, and we will pay the higher end of the range since Hayde doesn't have passport. Me and my family asking for 50,000$ based on the following breakdown: an evacuation fee at the Egyptian border of $8,000 - $10,000 per person , $4500 - $5000 per children as each day there is a different price for evacuation fee at the Egyptian border, plus a processing fee of $2,000 per person, $2,000 for transportation, and a 2.9% commission fee.

Any amount raised beyond the total will be used to supplement me & my family lives as refugees in Egypt. Your donation, no matter how small, will make an impact. You will be contributing to getting my family to safety. The funds will be used transparently and every dollar will go towards securing our evacuation.

Please share this campaign widely to help us reach our goal and bring my family to safety. Your support means more than you can imagine and I am incredibly grateful for any assistance you can provide during this challenging time. Thank you for your compassion and generosity. Together, we can make change and help my family find the safety and security they need".

instagram account : @help_my2024

My sweaty home before 7th oct

After 7th Oct

Vetted by:

Thank you very much 🌸🌸

@importantt-reblogs , see the Vetted Link

[alchemistc]

As usual my idle thoughts have turned into another fic.

Saturday

"What are you doing Saturday?" he asks, even though Evan has been not-quite-yelling at him while Tommy tries to fly a fucking helicopter. He's been going for almost four minutes straight. Tommy's pretty certain he's listing off the things he never told Tommy he was pissed off about in reverse sequential order from "Thanks, it was fun." back. He's barely past "Basketball tickets, Tommy? Basketball? In six months, I played basketball badly with you once and then spent every Lakers game we watched elbow deep in a subreddit about moths or something!"

Evan pauses. Blinks at the question. It's the first moment Tommy's been able to hear the rotors working in at least nine and a half minutes, back before he started to argue back.

"I'm free," he says, and Tommy thinks of the first time he'd ever asked, nerves propelling him out the door with finger guns, the tapping foot all the way down the elevator while he ran the words back and forth in his head over and over again, the way he kept randomly smiling the entire drive home to grab his work bag. So you're free, he'd asked, and he hadn't understood the significance of Evan's response until days later, until he'd done his first of many runners, how I am free, meant so much more than available for dinner and a movie on Saturday at 8.

Tommy nods. Chances a look at Evan to see him glaring at Tommy while he sucks in his lips to try to hide the way the corners of his lips are upturned. "Pick you up at 8," he says, and thinks of bullet point number... thirteen in Evan's rant where he implied Tommy never actually told him how he was feeling at any point in time during the entirety of their relationship. Maybe he can explain how excruciatingly vulnerable he felt he was being with making it so fucking obvious he'd chewed over the conversation they'd had after their first kiss so long and so obsessively that he'd memorized it.

"Great," Evan says

"Fine," Tommy replies.

"Awesome."

"Copacetic."

This earns him an eye roll and a glance he'd call fond if it weren't for the anger still stirring behind Evans eyes.

He only thinks to regret the question days later when Saturday is taken up by a funeral procession.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, with Evan plastered to his side, working himself up to a snore.

He pats at some of the loose curls he's been obsessively rolling through his fingers, entranced by the way the moonlight bounces off of them, entranced by the wet heat of Evan's breath against his skin.

"More of exactly this," Evan says, and Tommy snorts.

"If I fiddle with your hair any more it might start falling out."

He's a loose-limbed weight against Tommy's side, and Tommy would like to roll himself into the space between his muscle and skin and just nestle there for the rest of time. "Y'like my hair to-," he swallows a yawn, "too much for that."

That's true, at least. He had a point in asking, but he's struggling to remember what it was.

"Waz haturday?" he gets, in a mumble around another yawn.

Tommy twirls another lock of hair between his fingers. "There's a new exhibit at the Getty. Thought you might wanna go."

"Museum, and this," Evan manages into Tommy's ribcage.

"It's a date," Tommy murmurs, and waits for the telltale snuffle of Evan passing the fuck out.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, tongue between his teeth as he backs his way towards the chopper. He has to yell, even though Evan is five feet away, and Evan grins back, eyeing Tommy's hair being kicked around by the vortex of the blades.

"Handbook!" Hen chirps over the noise, her shorthand for stop flirting in my general vicinity I'll kill you both.

Evan shoots her a challenging grin. Glances around long enough to notice a few eavesdropping firefighters from other stations lingering near enough to hear. Sighs, and mouths a silent "You" that's visible from space. Tommy's gonna get so much shit from Harbor when this makes it's rounds, but Evan was extra hot today and Tommy's pretty sure his brain chemistry has been irrevocably altered by getting to sleep in his bed multiple nights a week.

"Pick me up at 8," Tommy yells over the noise, and, mortifyingly, throws the fingers guns back into play a moment before he turns to leave. Why had Evan ever thought he was cool?

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Evans asks, while Tommy balances his phone on a bin of protein powder before going back to digging in his junk drawer. "Also do you own a bandsaw."

Tommy glances up from the drawer. Takes in the sight of Evan, lounging on his pillows, looking indecent while he plays at innocence. Tommy wishes he was there, but he has way too much shit to do tomorrow to justify the drive, tonight.

"What the hell do you need a bandsaw for?"

Evan blinks. "You can find out Saturday if you bring it over."

"Evan, if you've been watching DIY videos to fall asleep again..."

"I get plenty of sleep, Tommy!"

Tommy begs to differ. If he's not around to point out Evan meant to be asleep an hour earlier, he's positive Evan loses at least three hours to YouTube and Twitter most nights.

Tommy sighs. "It's heavy as hell, Evan, and I'd have to jerry rig a pulley system to get it past the Impala while the engine's still out. Is this something we can do here?"

Evan contemplates. Nods.

"I'm assuming you need the truck, too."

"I can fit everything in the Jeep."

Tommy shoots him a look that does nothing to quell the shit-eating grin coming through the phone right now.

He bites back this particular sigh. "I'll pick you up."

"At 8."

Tommy shoots him a raised brow. Apparently Evan wants to piss off the neighbors.

"AM."

"Evan."

"I'll stop by that donut place early and get you that horrible pink drink you like."

Tommy's said 'no' to this man less times than he has drill sergeants. "You realize you're signing yourself up for the grumpiest boyfriend of all time?"

"I love grumpy Tommy," Evan says, and sounds like he means it.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Maddie asks, and Evan's gaze gets a little foggy for a moment.

His sister raises a brow at Tommy.

"Just a little inside joke," Tommy assures her, and can't hide his grin when Evan squeezes his knee under the table.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and listens to Sal try to make excuses for a full minute and a half.

"...why do you ask," Sal finally asks after he runs dry.

"I'm moving. Thought I might bribe you with pizza and beer for some muscle."

Sal is quiet for longer than Tommy thinks he's ever managed. He ruins it by whistling his disbelief for at least fifteen seconds.

"Well, if it's that serious, Buckley better fucking be there so I can finally meet the kid who made you fucking crazy." He pauses. "Crazier," he amends. "What the fuck are you gonna do with the lift?"

"So I'll see you at my place at ten?"

"You're not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?"

Tommy has a list of those reasons tucked behind a book Evan deemed 'the most boring thing I've ever let my eyes see' because he's still a little self conscious about the half-assed attempt at journaling he's been doing. He doesn't think Sal deserves a single one of those reasons.

"Bring extra packing tape," he shoots back, and hangs up before Sal can respond.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Eddie asks, and Tommy, irrationally, sort of wants to shoot him with lasers. Karen would probably let him borrow some.

He's not actually sure what Karen does in that lab of hers, but there has to be lasers, right?

Evan glances up from his perusal of the back of his beer label. "Um?" He darts his gaze to Tommy.

They haven't told anyone, and Tommy is pretending to be normal and chill and cool about that. He can keep a secret for another few days.

"If this is a sex thing you can keep it to yourself. I don't need another refresher on Tommy and Buck's sex life."

Tommy flickers between smug pleasure and exasperated annoyance. He settles somewhere in the middle, and spends the thirty seconds of eye contact and communicative facial expressions between Evan and Eddie thinking about what the weekend has in store for him.

"I mean, there's gonna be sex, but that's not, like, the point of the weekend."

Tommy raises a brow. "I never promised sex."

"It's a prerequisite for the other parts of the weekend."

"Oh look, I need a refill," Eddie says, already standing, holding up his mostly full bottle.

Evan kicks him under the table the moment Eddie's out of hearing range. "Stop freaking out. He's not the one who's getting a ring at the end of this trip."

Planning out their proposals together hadn't been something he ever thought he'd do, but once Evan had thrown it out there he'd gotten so lost in the sauce he'd forgoten it was weird. It's taken months to line this up and schedule it. They've talked it through so many times Tommy's pretty sure he could recite their itinerary from memory.

He's never gonna live down admitting he saw Eddie as competition. If it's not in Evan's proposal it might be in his vows.

"You didn't think I'd ditch you in a romantic cabin in the woods with a Jacuzzi tub that fits us both just because Eddie wanted to do something on Saturday, did you?"

No. But also yes. It's just his caveman brain shouting from behind the door Tommy locked it in when he finally understood exactly what he meant to Evan.

He's working on it.

"Just didn't want to spoil the surprise," he intones, and Evan narrows his eyes.

"Tommy."

Tommy slaps a hand on the table for Evan to grasp. "He's not the one getting a ring, Evan."

"Damn right. His hands are way too small. You ever notice he's got dainty fingers? That thing would fall off his thumb."

Tommy's dimples twitch, and Evan's grin is triumphant.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and from halfway across the station he can hear a faint "Handbook!" in Hen's voice.

Evan rolls his eyes.

"I have to put on a tux and marry this dude," Evan says. "Why, you got something else in mind?"

Tommy shifts half an inch closer. "What a coincidence. I have to marry some dude this Saturday, too."

"Buck has work today, Thomas! And this is technically against the rules, you're not supposed to see each other!" Howie, this time, much closer to the bay doors than Hen was.

Tommy taps his knuckles against the hood of his truck. Leans into Evans space and steals a quick kiss. "See you Saturday?"

"See you tomorrow," Evan says, and ignores the peanut gallery to steal a lingering kiss of his own.

[pixelatedraindrops]

WAIT, 39 IS BETTER?! WHAT THE HECK WAS IT BEFORE?! 😂 👀 (mm excellent choice tho 👌)

UWAAAAAA! 🥰 Snivy?? This is SO GOOD??? I’m gonna be honest with you, I too had the idea of Makoto using his mask to hide his sick days for the longest time. And it usually fools people because of the voice changer. And he’s really good at playing dumb. (he’s done it for 3 years)

But nah, you CAN’T fool a detective’s mind. Silly Makoto… xD Oh my god this is perfect 😂👌 And it’s so them. They’re just so silly x3

So I can see you may have read my fever color guide to making Yuma look not only pale but also flushed too. (with a 39 degree temperature? yep that checks out) You did really good! Also yeah. I’m starting to think the ice pack works better on him in terms of cooling since he has too many bangs for drawing a towel xD

I love that you wrapped Makoto in a blanket and him and yuma have matching slippers. Bigtime dumb roommate vibes. You’re not the only one who see’s these two are hypocrites on their sick days. It’s when they’re the MOST hypocritical to each-other lmao (also dang yuma you can stand with a 102 degree fever? You’re persistent… xD)

Wait, they don’t share the same bed??? 😂 jk

Anyway, This comic is just darling!! ❤️ Thanks so much for making it! I’ll cherish it! Better late than never! 👀👌🌡️

takes one to know one

a silly little comic of our favorite little guys being sick for @pixelatedraindrops! i'd like to think neither of them can really hide anything from each other lmao

spoilers under the cut!

now that's what i call self care!

[kaisa-ryo]

soshiro hoshina

tw: total nuisance 18+

english isn’t my native language!

~~~

it seemed as if the vice-captain's coaching room was always quiet, clean and cool. but instead of all that, right now, skin-on-skin slaps could be heard in the coaching room. things are scattered all over the room, and the heat from the bodies continued to envelop you both.

— i thought we were just going to practice together — you say with a grin to the captain, who bumped into you, holding your legs tightly pressed against the seat of one of the simulators.

— huh? are we doing something else? soshiro answers, pushing a strand of sweat—matted hair behind your ear.

it seems that lately he's been obsessed with the idea that you belong to him completely. naturally, you liked it. besides, he could always take advantage of it when he was just around. in every sense of the word.

— and it also seemed to me that the vice-captain should be modest and restrained — you continued.

— you're going to finish playing now.

it was getting unbearably stuffy. there was a feeling that such hot air could warm the whole of antarctica. well, that sounds like a challenge.

— i don't even know how the whole squad will react to the fact that vice-captain soshiro hoshina is fucking y/n in his coaching room for the fourth time... — you say, breathing heavily. but hoshina always keeps her word.

he abruptly grabs your legs and pulls you down. instead of continuing to bump into you, he sits on his knees, spreads your legs even wider and starts licking all the mess that you made because of him. to say that you were in utter confusion is to say nothing at all. It's like your body was planning to break out of its own shell.

— oh, soshiro!

his legs twitched pleasantly from his accidental touches of the clitoris, which made the brunette squeeze his hips more and more. you feel that your body liked this feeling and you are waiting for you to finally be able to cum from it. it looks like he really is a real fighter, since he even has working tongue muscles. you cover your face with one hand in embarrassment, and with the other you dig into his hair.

— i feel like… i am now...

one of the most enjoyable climaxes was very close, but

there is a knock on the door and a familiar voice is heard behind it.

— is everything all right there? don't you kill each other there?

your hand abruptly slides from your eyes to your mouth and presses against it with all its force. kafka was standing behind the wall.

soshiro stopped, as if he had given you the go-ahead to answer. but the moment before orgasm made itself felt. there was a complete mess in your head, which meant that right now you wouldn't be able to connect two words. you wish soshiro hadn't stopped, but if he hadn't stopped, you would have been burned right away.

— y-yes... — finally escaped from your moist lips, — maybe we overdid it a little, but everything is definitely good!

well, it sounded more convincing in your head.

— then I'm sorry for disturbing you!

— go already! — your sweet tone immediately changed to a commanding one.

at the moment when the awkward dialogue finally ended, you felt the excitement gradually go away.

the brunette abruptly stands up and you slide even lower, lying on your entire back. he penetrates you again with a still hard, excited dick and continues at a faster pace. while the captain was picking up speed, he put his face close to your ear and, smiling, whispered "good girl" the butterflies in your stomach stirred, as if after a long hibernation. It sounded too exciting.

— show me how I "overdid it", doll.

the guy continued to enter at full length. you both liked it. but sochiro's captain's gut made him want more. he liked to dominate, to be on top of you, to make you squirm under him. In a sense, he even had a possessive nature. but he never had the courage to show it in full, because it would be strange if he molested you in public, having the status of a "colleague".

— i'm getting close... ah!

— don't hold back, show me how good it feels to be with me~

soshiro presses on your clitoris and watches how you react. you start whining until you realize that the end has come. you scream, clinging to his strong shoulders, and soon you're buried in them. you're wet in everything you can get. your legs are shaking, and your mind is floating somewhere in another dimension. hoshina pulled away to help you get up, but your legs were wobbly. there was nothing to do but fall on his chest and wait for him to take care of you.

he tucks your hair behind your ear again and kisses you on the temple.

— good job, y/n.

a bonus!

kafka: damn, just look at them! I think they really killed each other there...

ichikawa: man, they kicked you away because they fucked. Isn't it obvious?

kafka: YOU MEAN HE RAPED HER?!

[world-of-wales]

Kensington Palace has released a short film featuring The Prince of Wales in conversation with Sir David Attenborough ahead of World Oceans Day. The film reflects on the wonder of the oceans, Sir David’s legacy and lifetime of oceanic exploration, the urgent challenges facing our seas, and the hope found in restoring and protecting them for future generations (Photo Courtesy : Kensington Palace via Getty Images) | 7 JUNE 2025

[theastrohub]

RARE ASPECTS -

the Yod aka “The Finger of God”

findings + graphics by @theastrohub + getty photos

The "Yod," often called the "Finger of God," is an astrological term referring to a specific configuration involving three planets. In a Yod, two planets are in sextile (60 degrees apart) and both form a quincunx (150 degrees) aspect with a third planet. This configuration creates a triangle shape on the astrological chart, with one planet at the apex and the other two forming the base of the triangle.

The Yod is considered a powerful and challenging aspect pattern, often associated with a sense of destiny or a significant life purpose. It can indicate areas where a person might experience tension or where adjustments need to be made to achieve their goals. Some astrologers view the Yod as a marker of special talents or potential that requires significant effort and adaptation to fully realize.

The term "Finger of God" comes from the resemblance of the Yod to the image of a finger pointing or directing attention, symbolizing a higher calling or focus on particular life areas.

The impact of a yod is powerful and is often described as " life-altering " for the individual with the Yod. This would look like when Serena and Nate first hooked up at the Shepherd's wedding in Gossip Girl, or when Poussay died in the prison riot in Orange is the New Black, or the death of Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

another manifestation of this that's more common is when people have sudden rises to fame, being in the public sphere, and/or being visible to others. being an "overnight sensation" or on the other hand being someone who has been in the public eye for a long time (ie: Obama, Tyler the Creator, Saweetie, Sabrina Carpenter).

while a gradual rise to visibility is possible, the Yod being called the "finger of God" is attributed to seemingly invisible involvement in sudden success, irrespective of how long an individual has been accomplishing or working towards a goal.

when the yod becomes activated, the individual is pushed towards the apex of the yod. if the apex is a point like the north node, then they are being pushed into their life mission and spiritual evolution. if the apex is a personal planet like Venus, they are being pushed into a more tangible (albeit still significant) path of material, romantic, relational and aesthetic pursuits, maybe at a grand scale. (ie: Saweetie).

this is lucky but also difficult to navigate. you have to be prepared for anything almost and really be able to focus on your life path without deterrence to make the most of this aspect. In reference to the individuals mentioned above, I believe they all have mentioned sacrifices made, whether it be personal relationships, time, freedom, etc. to evolve and emulate their definition of success.

overall, do not worry if you don't have this aspect. this doesn't mean your life is insignificant or you are not special. we all have different purposes, gifts granted, things to achieve in this lifetime unique to ourselves and that is enough.

thank you for reading 💋

@astrobaeza

for more: [ paidservices ₊ masterlist ₊ tips ]

[gettiregretti]

Prompt: a hesitant kiss

Kallus reached for Zeb’s face, and Zeb let him take it in his hands. His big, green eyes closed and he leaned naturally into Kallus’ touch, like this was normal, like it was welcome.

Kallus drank in every detail that he could. He mapped the gentle slope before the tip of each of Zeb’s ears. He tracked the place where the short fur of Zeb’s cheekbones became the longer, coarser fur of his beard. The lines of Zeb’s face read kindness, but Kallus had limited information to reach that conclusion from. It was something deeper in him that told him so.

“It’s okay,” Zeb reassured him. “Y’don’t have to remember. You can just start from today.”

Kallus hummed thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember at all. “The problem is that I almost remember. Something…it’s always right on the edge of my mind,” he admitted.

Looking at Zeb always made the glimmer of memory return - a tiny window into whatever life Kallus had lived before. The moment Kallus fixed his attention on it, however, it would flee from him. He’d waited patiently until now. But with Zeb here, warm under his hands, he chased it. He lured it close with the feel of Zeb’s fur under his palms, the scent of him in Kallus’ lungs.

It was instinct, mostly, that guided him towards Zeb’s cheek; something innate that Kallus allowed himself to be lead by. It compelled him to bring them cheek to cheek. For a moment, Kallus held back. He didn’t know, truly, who he was. He didn’t know with any certainty what he wanted.

But, as displaced as he was in this life he didn’t remember, there was always Zeb at his back.

He rubbed gently against Zeb’s cheek. Zeb gasped quietly at the contact, tensing and then relaxing under the touch. He didn’t move, as though he was trying not to scare Kallus off. But he did press into each careful swipe of Kallus’ cheek against his own.

On the edge of Kallus’ memory was warmth and a sense of home. It was like nostalgia over a song that he only knew a few words to.

Hesitantly, he turned his head. This time Zeb was watching him.

“Try it,” Zeb urged him in a low growl, like he’d read Kallus’ mind. Kallus’ eyes flickered to Zeb’s lips. “If you want to.”

Kallus wanted to. So badly.

With a careful caution, he crept forward and touched his lips to Zeb’s in a kiss as light as moonlight. If he remembered, fine. But if he didn’t then at least he got to make a new memory of the feeling of Zeb’s lips against his own.

[nylqnder]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐊𝐈𝐃

madeleine chase x will smith

will goes on a podcast and reveals to the world his gushing crush on pop star, madeleine chase (wc; 1.11k)

༉‧₊˚. ꒰ notes! ꒱ this is lowkey inspired by how tate mcrae and cole sillinger first got together + what will said in a podcast about tate mcrae (literally every man is obsessed with her and so am i)

au masterlist

It had been about a week since Will had moved to San Jose and he was… settling. California was very different from Massachusetts and everything was new. From the weather to the people, everything was unfamiliar to Will. His teammates — another new thing Will was getting used to — had been nothing but welcoming. They had been showing him around the area and making sure he was settling in well—especially the Marleau family who were taking him in for his first year in San Jose.

He appreciated their efforts, even though the move was still overwhelming at times. The sunny, warm weather of California was a stark contrast to the often chilly and unpredictable climate of Massachusetts, and it was both a blessing and a challenge to adapt to. The culture here was more laid-back, and people seemed to carry an air of casualness that Will wasn’t entirely accustomed to.

In the midst of all these changes, he was dealing with the start of the hockey season, which brought on a lot of commitments. Despite today being a rest day from all of the beginning of the season media, Will was sitting in the Empty Netters podcast studio. Will had met Dan and Chris, the two hosts, a while back, promising them he’d come on when he got signed by the Sharks. Months later, Will was fulfilling his promise.

“Alright, Will, welcome to the Empty Netters pod! Glad to have you here,” said Chris.

“Thank you for having me,” Will said, smiling politely.

“So, you've been in San Jose for what—about two weeks? How’s the transition going? It’s gotta be a change from Massachusetts." Dan asked.

Will nodded, leaning into the mic a bit. “Yeah, about that but it feels like longer with everything going on. It’s been go, go, go since I got here but California’s great. And everyone’s been super welcoming, especially the Marleau family. They’ve really helped me get settled.”

Dan grinned. “Yeah, you got blessed with your living situation for your first year. I mean Patrick Marleau is a legend.”

“Not bad at all,” Will chuckled, relaxing a little. “They’ve been great. Showing me around, and introducing me to some good spots to eat. I’m trying to figure out the whole California lifestyle.”

The conversation flowed easily as they touched on his early career, what he was looking forward to with the Sharks and a few lighter topics.

“Okay, Will, to end this interview we just want to do some rapid-fire questions, alright? So these are just random.” Chris asked.

“Yeah, ok, sounds good,” Will replied.

“Great, first question,” Chris said, glancing at his notes. “What's your favorite movie?”

Will thought for a moment, debating between the movies he loved. “I'd have to say 'Good Will Hunting'. It's a classic and, well, it's set in Boston. Reminds me of home.”

Both Dan and Chris nodded appreciatively. “Nice choice,” Dan answered. “Alright, next up: what's your go-to comfort food?”

“Probably a good lobster roll,” Will replied instantly. “It's practically a staple back home.”

“A lobster roll from Cape Cod sounds fucking delicious.” Chris agreed.

“Alright, final question,” Dan says. “Who is your celebrity crush?”

“Madeleine Chase,” Will says without hesitation.

Both Dan and Chris burst into laughter at Will’s quick answer, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he realizes his eagerness. “Damn, you were ready for that question,” Chris says through laughter. “Can you expand on why she is your celebrity crush?”

Will chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I mean, first of all, she’s gorgeous. I keep seeing photos of her performing for Taylor Swift in Europe and… whew.” Will answers, getting another chorus of laughter from the podcast hosts. “But also there’s something about her vibe. She seems really down-to-earth and genuine. I’ve seen her in interviews and she’s got a great sense of humor.”

Dan grinned. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” Will admitted, laughing. “But, you know, it’s hard not to admire someone like that. She’s got the whole package.”

“Quick, favorite song of hers?” Chris asked.

Will didn’t have to think much before answering. “Close To You. It’s just such a fun song to listen to.”

“If you have a message for Madeleine that we might be able to get to her at some point, what would it be?” Dan asked.

Will chuckled, questioning if he really wanted to it all out bare on this podcast. “Answer my DM,” he said, confidence lacing his tone.

“No way you’ve DM’ed her.” Chris laughed.

Will simply shrugged, laughing along with the two brothers. Dan leaned in with mock seriousness. "Alright, Sharks fans, you heard it here first—Will Smith’s got game both on and off the ice."

As the podcast wrapped up, Will thanked Chris and Dan, and they walked him out. His agent was waiting, jumping straight into talking about his schedule, but Will wasn't really listening. He was still stuck replaying the last part of the interview in his head.

Did I really just say that? His mind replayed the last part of the interview—talking about Madeleine Chase with no filter, like some lovestruck kid. He cringed inwardly, imagining how it must have sounded to anyone listening. He could already hear the ribbing from his teammates once this went live, and he cringed. His agent's voice was just white noise now as Will’s thoughts spiraled, imagining the potential fallout.

Answer my DM. The words bounced around his head like an unwelcome reminder of how he’d opened himself up for a joke. What if she actually did hear it? He wasn’t sure what compelled him to be so bold, especially considering they didn’t know each other. Will had always been reserved, especially in public settings, and now he felt like he'd let his guard down too much.

“Will? You listening?” his agent said, snapping him out of his daze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Will replied quickly, though he wasn’t. He pulled out his phone, hovering over the podcast's social media page. Maybe I can ask them to cut that part out… no, that’s ridiculous. It’s too late. He forced himself to put his phone away, trying to focus on anything else but the possibility of his comment blowing up online.

Will sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to shake off the doubt. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. They laughed, so it couldn’t have been too cringey… right?

Still, the uncertainty weighed on him. California was supposed to be a fresh start, but at that moment, Will couldn’t help but feel like he’d already stumbled out of the gate.

[saywhat-politics]

By Alice Miranda Ollstein and Sophie Gardner

05/11/2025 12:00 PM EDT

The Trump administration’s purge of the health department is cutting so deep that it has incapacitated congressionally mandated programs and triggered legal challenges.

The administration insists the cuts are a lawful “streamlining” of a “bloated” agency, but federal workers, Democratic lawmakers, state officials and independent legal experts say keeping offices afloat in name only – with minimal or no staff – is an unconstitutional power grab. People demonstrate outside the main campus of the Centers For Disease Control and Prevention on April 1, 2025 in Atlanta, Georgia. | Elijah Nouvelage/Getty Images

By Alice Miranda Ollstein and Sophie Gardner

05/11/2025 12:00 PM EDT

The Trump administration’s purge of the health department is cutting so deep that it has incapacitated congressionally mandated programs and triggered legal challenges.

The administration insists the cuts are a lawful “streamlining” of a “bloated” agency, but federal workers, Democratic lawmakers, state officials and independent legal experts say keeping offices afloat in name only – with minimal or no staff – is an unconstitutional power grab.

While agencies have some discretion over how to fulfill Congress’s demands, the upheaval inside the Department of Health and Human Services has claimed a host of programs the agency is required by Congress to maintain — cuts that are especially vulnerable to lawsuits and could upend Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s goal of slimming down a workforce he has repeatedly said is rife with waste, fraud and abuse.

A federal judge on Friday temporarily blocked the Trump administration’s sweeping layoffs at several agencies, including HHS, saying that cooperation of the legislative branch is required for large-scale reorganizations.

Kennedy eliminated thousands of jobs in early April, paralyzing programs across the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and particularly in the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health, that monitored health threats, researched cures and investigated everything from toxic fumes in fire stations to outbreaks of gonorrhea.

The layoffs at NIOSH have halted the National Firefighter Cancer Registry, Fire Fighter Fatality Investigation and Prevention Program, Health Hazard Evaluation Program, Respirator Approval Program and Coal Workers’ Health Surveillance Program. All are required by law, but their government websites explain they are no longer operating because of the layoffs.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Paying for the Sins of Our Fathers

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: A new serial killer arrives in Los Angeles with a penchant for girls with bad relationships with their fathers. After you offer yourself up as bait to catch him, Deacon shows you that you're not as hard to love as you think.

Warnings: angst to fluff, serial killer, secondary character deaths, age gap, depiction of terrible father-daughter relationships (going to say allusion to DV just to be safe but if there is it's nuanced not explicitly stated)

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

A/N: Alexa, play Glasshouse Children.

*This is not a rewrite of Sins of the Father, just a titling coinkydink.

Picture from Pinterest (I love this scene so much)

“Caramel pumpkin chai for Lia!”

Lia sighs as she stands and walks to the counter. The coffee shop, one of Santa Monica’s hidden gems that most people walk right by, is nearly empty at this hour. A writer wearing headphones slaves over a laptop in one corner, three young girls read together, pausing every few minutes to discuss the previous chapter, and a man draws in a weathered leather journal. This is how Lia likes the café, but she’s not sure it’s what she needs tonight.

Sitting with her drink, she ignores the envelope in her bag. Her father sent a message from prison, where he’s been since she was a freshman in high school nearly a decade ago, but she’s yet to open it. She’s not sure she can, not sure she wants to, even. Tapping the screen of her phone, she smiles when she sees a reply from her best friend.

Come over, and we’ll talk. Catch this love <3

“Excuse me,” the man with the journal says, standing sheepishly by Lia’s table. “I just wanted to say hello, and, uh, I hope you don’t mind, but I included you in my sketch of the coffee shop.”

“Oh,” Lia replies, smiling at the interruption. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good, good. I won’t keep you, but it’s a hard anniversary for me, but drawing helps and it was nice to have a friendly face in the scene.”

“I understand completely. I hope the rest of your night is good.”

“Thank you,” he replies, nodding once. “You, too.”

“Wait,” Lia calls as he turns. “Could I maybe see the picture?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he answers with a chuckle. “I’m not very good. My father told me I should find another hobby, but, well… he’s why I’m here tonight drawing instead of remembering the past.”

Lia shakes her head and offers, “Dads are tough, believe me, I know. If you enjoy drawing, though, keep doing it. Good for you.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The man pauses and waves generally as he adds, “About your dad, I mean.”

“It is what it is,” Lia says, shrugging. “Are you sure I can’t see the picture?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“The last scene I drew was a visiting area in a state prison, so it’s a light in this sketchbook.”

“I haven’t been in a prison in years, but I’m sure a setting that grim can’t be easy to draw.”

“I like the challenge, but the distraction was the real reward. After I visit the prison, I go up Getty Center Drive just to get away from it all, you know?”

“It’s gorgeous up there,” Lia sighs.

“You should go sometime, to clear your mind. Even alone with your thoughts, everything just seems more peaceful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

The man nods and steps toward the door. Lia pushes the envelope from her father deeper into her bag before she stands and picks up her drink. She’s ready to talk, and her friend is waiting, like always. As she walks toward her car, Lia smiles.

“Good night,” the man calls from beside his car. “You should really go to Getty after you return your dad’s letter in person.”

Lia’s smile drops as she presses the button to unlock her car. “How did you know that?”

“On second thought,” the man muses lightly, walking toward Lia’s car. “Why don’t we go together? Right now?”

Lia tries to scream, but his hand presses against her mouth, a damp rag silencing her cries.

You yawn as Street continues his story about the motorcycle race he allegedly won last night. Before he can tell you the epic conclusion, a group of at least thirty cops walks into SWAT HQ and heads directly to the situation room. Street silences, and you watch the officers and detectives walk through the building.

“20 Squad, situation room!” Hicks yells. “Now!”

You follow Street inside and find a place at the back to stand. Deacon, Hondo, and Luca enter from the other side and look at you questioningly as they join you. You shrug, and Street stands by Luca as they theorize what the large meeting could mean.

“I’m Detective Ryan Carradine of the Mid-Wilshire division,” Carradine introduces, gesturing for everyone to quiet. “We have patrol officers, Metro SWAT, UCs, and the homicide division from several different stations here today because we have a county-wide case.”

A map with nine red dots appears on the screen behind him. Each dot has a date and time beside it, each one five days apart.

“By which I mean there is a new serial killer in Los Angeles. In the last 45 days, we have located nine bodies, each a female in her early-20s to late-30s. Early this morning, we found Lia Carter, a 24-year-old woman from Rustic Canyon. Carter was attacked sometime between midnight and 2 a.m., and she was left for dead in brush off Getty Center Drive. She’s in critical condition, but if she pulls through, she will be the only survivor.”

“What’s the connection between victims?” a homicide detective inquires.

Carradine tsks, then answers, “Our teams are working on that now. What we’ve got tentatively is the age range, females, and…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he adds, “They all seem to have strained or nonexistent relationships with their fathers.”

You look at Street, who purses his lips and shrugs.

“Carter was found with an unopened letter from her father stapled to her shirt, he’s serving life in Lancaster State Prison for killing her high school boyfriend,” Carradine explains.

“What does this have to do with us?” Street whispers.

“So, because of the extent of this case, we need everyone in this room on their A-game. If that’s not you, I want you out and I will find someone to take your spot.”

No one moves, so Carradine nods and steps to the side as Commander Hicks joins him.

“I’m Commander Bob Hicks,” he begins, “I’ll be assisting Detective Carradine in an operational capacity. I’m also placing my 20-David SWAT team on standby for anything related to this case. The moment we get a warrant, they’ll be ready to roll.”

“That being said,” Carradine interjects, “Mid-Wilshire’s Metro is prepared to pick up slack for other tactical calls. If you need immediate tactical support for this case, alert Hicks, otherwise, dispatch will get you a team from another station.”

“What other information do you have?” an officer asks. “Suspects, forensics?”

“Short answer: nothing.”

The undercover chief suggests, “We can get UC officers out, advertise poor paternal relationships, try to bring this guy into the light.”

“It won’t work,” an officer states as he enters the situation room. “Lia Carter regained consciousness. She said he knew; that the man had details about her relationship with her father, things she’d never told anyone other than police and therapists.”

“Then UC is out,” Carradine murmurs, rubbing his forehead. “Any other ideas?”

You inhale before you say, “Send me in.”

The officers standing between you and Carradine look back and step to the side so he can see you clearly. Hicks looks from you to Hondo, then back to you, and shakes his head gently.

“If he can get his hands on that kind of information, then he could find out that I fit. I’m the right age, no relationship with dad,” you explain. “It’s as good as a UC as you’re going to get in this.”

Standing beside you, Deacon tenses his jaw. He doesn’t want you to do this; he wants you to be as far from this serial killer as you possibly can, but it’s not his place to ask you to stay. No matter how much he wishes it was.

“Absolutely not,” Hondo says instead.

“There’s way too much at stake,” Luca adds.

“He could know even more,” Street exclaims. “We don’t know his MO, what he does before or after the killings.”

You look to Deacon rather than answering your other teammates, and he licks his lips before he says, “It’s your decision. We’ll be here for you, whether you stay or go.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes on Deacon as you say, “Then let’s catch a serial killer.”

“Oh, he’s got a name now,” a cyber-tech says from one of the desks. “Papers are calling him The Fatherless.”

“Classy,” you murmur.

“Get prepped,” Hicks tells you. “20 Squad, you’re on standby, so stay close.”

“The rest of you stay here to receive your posts,” Carradine announces. “We’ve got five days until he strikes again. So, let’s do this in four.”

In the locker room, you sit in your civvies and prepare for the worst. The door opens as Street walks inside, his steps purposeful and hurried.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, stopping beside you. “No one will blame you for changing your mind.”

“Street,” you begin.

He squats before you and shakes his head. “No, listen, I understand. Probably better than anyone else here. I know that you still feel that pain, even if it’s the last thing on your mind. Those wounds, the ones that your parents carve into you as a child, they never fully heal, and they reopen easily.”

You nod along with Street. He’s right, you know that. Yet, you know what you have to do.

“We’re glasshouse children, Street, you know that. But I’m done paying for the sins of my father. And I’m not going to let another innocent woman be murdered because of hers.”

Street sighs and leans back against the lockers. “We’re here for you. You better be careful, or I’ll tell Deacon that you have a crush on him.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms to match Street’s stance. “I’m always careful. Don’t confuse your recklessness for my perfection.”

Hondo knocks on the open door, serious and sympathetic, as he says, “Hospital just called. Lia Carter didn’t make it.”

Over the next two days, every moment outside HQ is spent setting up your role as the perfect target. On a walk, you slow by a park and watch a father and daughter play together, letting yourself long for something you don’t remember having. In crowded areas, you identify men who remind you of your dad or are alone and steer around them, giving yourself a wide berth. You avoid talking about your family, even inviting a friend to dinner just so someone asks how everyone is. No matter where you go, you keep your guard up with your gun within reach. You’re living like someone is watching your every move because you want them to be.

The most important thing you do requires help. With a picture stowed in your backpack, courtesy of the forensic team, you return home at the end of the second day. Carefully, you hide the picture in a book, then make dinner and try to forget it. When you settle in with the book for the night, you “accidentally” find the picture. The ink shows you and your father, cheek-to-cheek and smiling, and you stare at it until it blurs. Then, you shove it back in the book and throw it against the wall. Dropping your head into your hands, you feel like you’re being watched, and if the picture hadn’t affected you more than you anticipated, you might be scared by that.

Sitting alone in a rundown diner, you tap a sugar packet against your cup. It’s been five days since Lia Carter was attacked, and if you aren’t approached by The Fatherless tonight, he’ll kill another woman. You shift as if you can feel the picture of your dad in your pocket. It’s halfway out, so anyone who approaches your table can see it, yet another piece of bait to get yourself on a serial killer’s radar. You wish he could see it so no one else has to see him.

“Evening,” a man greets as he slides onto a barstool directly to your right.

You look over your shoulder, and when the man’s eyes drop to the picture, you fight down a smile. A killer sits beside you, his complete attention on you, and you’re exactly where you wanted to be.

“Good evening,” you reply lightly.

“Young love, huh?” he asks, gesturing with his chin to the young pregnant couple sharing a milkshake at the other side of the diner. “I bet they’ll be fun parents.”

You laugh humorlessly and look down at your sugar packet as you murmur, “I wouldn’t know what that looks like.”

He frowns sympathetically and offers, “Let me get you another drink?”

Though you want to agree and speed through this part, you remain hesitant, a faux vigilance. The Fatherless leaves plenty of room between you, making it feel like you’re in charge.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he says to the waitress. When you look at him again, he smiles and shrugs. “It looks good.”

“It is good,” you reply, letting your eyes drift back to the happy couple.

“I used to imagine that my parents looked like that,” he muses. “But then I remember my dad was a deadbeat who left before I started preschool.”

“Now that I can understand.” You nod as you look at your empty cup.

“Ready for that drink?” he guesses.

You smile sheepishly, and he turns to order another drink before he slides off the barstool and sits on the other side of your booth.

“Your dad leave too?” he inquires, treating it like another mundane subject.

He asks open-ended questions but feeds you information he shouldn’t even know. You know what he’s doing, and you will play his game for as long as it takes.

“Yeah. I mean, in hindsight, I guess I should’ve seen it coming,” you answer.

“You were older?”

As you continue answering his questions, talking more and touching your drink less, you notice his eyes keep flitting to your cup. There was no evidence of him drugging the previous victims, so he must be pulling out all of the stops for you, his first target who defends herself and others for a living.

“So, you go hang out by yourself when you’re feeling like this?” The Fatherless asks.

“Depends on the day,” you say. “And the feeling.”

“I used to go sit on one of the bridges over the Los Angeles River and just stare into it.”

“That helped?”

“Almost every time. Something about the concrete lining on what should have been natural just… put everything into perspective, I suppose.”

“Typically, I try to escape thoughts of my dad,” you point out with a smile.

“And staring into murky water doesn’t help with that?” he challenges.

“That’s fair. I think I’d like to see it, give it a try.”

“We aren’t far from a viaduct.”

“I didn’t drive,” you complain. “The one time I decide to walk to clear my head.”

“I’ve got a car. If you’re comfortable with that.”

You pretend to deliberate his offer, then smile and stand. He leaves some cash on the table – cheap tipper, you think – and then leads you to a nondescript black Mustang. As he walks to the driver’s side, you slow and memorize the license plate.

“You know, one thing I never considered before is how lucky I am that I don’t have to worry about who will walk me down the aisle,” he says as he opens the door. “I guess your daddy issues are why you go for Sergeant Salt ‘n’ Pepper, though, huh?”

You don’t expect the comment, and it makes you stop. How The Fatherless managed to find the one thing you haven’t thought about for years, your wedding day, and how strange it might be without a father figure confuses you. More, the fact that he brought Deacon into this causes you to freeze.

“C’mon,” he urges, likely sensing your sudden discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “Got lost there for a second, didn’t I?”

As you get into the car, you know you’re doing the right thing but are admittedly scared now. If he knows that much about your life presently, who knows how much information he has on your childhood or family. He talks during the short drive to the viaduct, and you force yourself to keep the conversation going.

It’s weird. Your dad is who he is; you’ve moved on from the pain and heartbreak he put you through, and that’s what this guy is supposed to care about. But, because of The Fatherless, you’re thinking about something else. Is it possible that everything that exists or could exist between you and Deacon is just because of that?

Standing on a viaduct over the Los Angeles River, The Fatherless stands too close to you. He reaches for a weapon, but you’re too slow, not even raising your hand before there’s a gun in your face. Defenseless, you stand still as an engine rumbles before footsteps pound against the pavement.

“LAPD SWAT, drop the weapon!” Hondo yells.

“You’re surrounded, man,” Luca adds. “It’s over.”

“Put the gun down and step back!” Hondo repeats.

You stare into his eyes, looking past the gun. The moment he begins to lower his arm, Luca and Street rush forward and detain him before passing him off to another officer. With the police lights reflecting off the water below you, you look to your team as you fight to keep your emotions inside.

“That was the stupidest, most reckless act of incompetence I have ever seen!” Hondo yells, taking a heated step toward you.

Street raises his arm quickly, slapping his hand against Hondo’s chest. When Hondo stops, Street shakes his head but keeps his eyes on you. He can tell there’s something else wrong, more than you not defending yourself. You’re surprised, however, when someone else seems to notice it.

Deacon walks toward you, where you stand at the edge of the concrete platform. Stopping several steps back, Deacon doesn’t touch you but waits for you to do something. Down the bridge from you, the surveillance team that was watching and listening from the moment you stepped into the diner tells Hicks, Hondo, Luca, and Street what The Fatherless said to you.

When they hear that he brought someone you care about now into the conversation, they look back to you and Deacon. Hondo sighs while Luca runs his fingers through his hair, and Street murmurs, “No,” under his breath.

“I told Street I didn’t want the daughters of Los Angeles to pay for the sins of our fathers,” you begin. “But we can’t escape it. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to forgive him and move on, I’m still broken inside because of what he did.”

“You’re not broken,” Deacon insists.

“Then why do I look for love everywhere but only find it where I can’t have it?!” you ask, your voice rising as you step back.

Deacon raises his hands as you near the edge of the overpass. Your team moves forward, too, but everything else slows down.

“He was right, Deacon,” you murmur.

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Yes, he was! I love things that I can’t have because one of the few times I loved something with my entire heart, my dad shattered it.”

“Look where you are now,” Deacon demands, his arms still out toward you. “Despite that pain, in spite of everything he did to you, you are here. You have a career you love, a team that loves you like family, a-“

“Please stop saying love,” you interrupt.

“We love you,” Deacon finishes. “And we don’t care about what your dad did or didn’t do because we love you, scars and all."

You wipe a stray tear from your jaw, and Deacon takes another step toward you.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Differently than I’ve ever loved anything before.”

Your breath catches, but Deacon would never lie to you. You sniff and ask, “So, you don’t think I’m attracted to you just because of my daddy issues?”

Deacon smiles at your question, shakes his head, and offers his hand. You place your hand in his, grateful for the warmth of his glove, and then he pulls you against his chest and hugs you tightly. Safe in his arms, you let yourself cry, barely registering his movements as he carefully directs you away from the viaduct.

A moment later, more arms wrap around you as your team joins in your group hug. You laugh through the tears, loving each one for different reasons. And, just as you love them, they love you. This is your family, and this kind of love transcends generational curses and past traumas. You’re all different people, shaped by your pains and experiences, but you fit together. The people in this hug are your family: perfect pieces held together by love.

As Deacon follows you into your home, you know he will offer to stay, but you have something you’ve needed to say for a long time.

“I love you, too,” you admit. “I’m in love with you, and I have been for years.”

Deacon smiles as he offers his hand again; you take it, willing to go anywhere with him. He kisses your forehead and then leads you to the kitchen. The possibilities are endless now that your feelings are out in the open. You can do anything, be anything with Deacon.

For tonight, though, you want to sit with him and remember that you’re loved, and you can love as hard as you want because the sins of your father are not your responsibility nor a weight you must bear. Who you are now is who Deacon loves, and that’s exactly what you want to be.

[taylorswiftstyle]

The Eras Tour | The Tortured Poets Department section

Paula Rowan 'Aida Glove' - $213.00

Many may have noticed a recent accessory addition to the Tortured Poets costuming on the Eras Tour: a sleek pair of triple dart leather gloves.

The addition comes as a functional fix to combat chilly temperatures on this particular stretch of dates in the United Kingdom. For backstory, the gloves were introduced after Taylor's first show in Edinburgh, Scotland. During the acoustic section, a portion that immediately follows the Tortured Poets set, Taylor experienced a hand cramp when trying to play guitar. That night, winds and cold weather likely made playing her instrument so deep into the three hour show a little challenging (to say the least).

It's an added delight to note this credit ahead of Taylor's dates in Dublin, Ireland because Paula Rowan happens to be an Irish designer. Rowan's work has not only been featured in many magazine spreads (including Vogue and Wall Street Journal) but her gloves have also been worn on stage before - most prominently for Lady Gaga's Chromatica Ball.

Of Taylor wearing her gloves, Rowan told Image magazine, “Taylor Swift is known for her strength and confidence as well as her ability to constantly transform and evolve. For all of those reasons, I am delighted that she chose my gloves to wear."

She added, "[Taylor's] style has evolved over her career and she uses both her lyrics and her outfits to communicate and to craft a story so I am honoured to be a part of that narrative.” How very TAYLOR SWIFT STYLE: FASHION THROUGH THE ERAS of her! I couldn't agree more.

Taylor also has a sparkly black pair to coordinate with her darker Vivienne Westwood ensembles. While they were definitely brought in as a primarily functional role, I think the gloves add so much to Taylor’s ensemble and also tie in to the Victorian fashion from the “Fortnight” video. Don’t you think?

Photo by Gareth Cattermole/TAS24 via Getty Images