#they just thought since they'd never seen my drawings I didn't draw like. why?!?)

[autisticjonathanjoestar]

sorry for venting on main again but I'm actually so tired of being infantalized 👍 especially by other autistic people. like that's truly the heartbreaking part. I truly do not love asking someone's opinion on something expecting a peer to peer discussion & when they answer me they start giving me advice and/or offering to mentor me. like ok I see. you do not see me as capable. okay 👍 awesome

[lavenderslabyrinth]

A Sacrificial Game

King!Dragon x Reader

Masterlist

This is my first post since deciding to kick off this new account. It’s rewritten from an old story I had posted on here long ago once upon a time. I hope you enjoy~

CW: ♢ Mention of Near Drowning ♢ Blood/Injury ♢ Abduction ♢

The coos of morning doves and the gentle brushing of branches against your bedroom window were quickly drowned out by the boisterous laughter and squabbling of your many siblings. Your attempt at trying to drown them out via the trusty quilt-over-head technique was quickly plundered as they burst through your sacred doorway. With energy only children can manage to conjure from the depths of hell at 8 in the morning, they jostled you around roughly, stealing away the comforting warmth you'd had. Surely, you'd thought, this was an act of merciless torture. Your skin prickled with goosebumps and, irritably, you managed to croak out a yip. "Ow! Off!" Your anger did nothing more than make them giggle as they lightly bruised you with their rough play. "Lemme sleep, dammit! Off! Get off!" Taking evident joy out of your misery, the damn gremlins only gave you a round of smug looks. They did relent, however it was truthfully only to avoid your flailing swats at their heads. “Momma said we ain’t eatin’ breakfast till you get up. So get up lazy" A chorus of agreements and more jostling only drew a strong eye roll from you. But, nevertheless, you shooed them off and sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Normally they'd just eat without you, leaving the leftovers warmed in the oven to be picked at by whoever passed by, but today was a special occasion. It was your birthday. Normally birthdays were happy events full of gifts, smiles, and all things merry-making-- but this one was different. While the younger whelps scurried off to the old wooden table, none the wiser to the fate that you now had to face, a heavy weight hung over the heads of the adults in the house. The thickness of the air palpable as you stepped into the kitchen and saw the grim look on your mother's face.

The saying goes that a starving savage is less likely to ravage your home if you give it a single meal-- and such began the gruesome, superstitious tradition... Once a year, one unlucky village that bordered the human kingdom would be chosen to place the names of all it's unmarried, of-age residents into a box and perform a drawing. Whichever sorry soul was picked would be ripped away from their homes by the temple, never to be seen again. The nobility liked to call it one of the "highest of all honors" a commoner could receive. The common people? You call it human sacrifice.

At least, most of your people do. Despite that being so, the vast majority of the population feared the very notion of abandoning the ritual. Why? Because the entire purpose was to "sate the otherfolk's thirst for human blood." One sacrifice, one year free from their wrath.

Your skin crawled at the very idea of it all as you leant down, clumsy hands tying up the laces of your worn leather boots.

As a child, you believed every word that hung off of the elders' tongues down near the pub. The fascination and wonder of another terrifying world outside the kingdom's tall, stone walls ignited your naive little heart. But with age, it grew evident to you that they were no more than simple old widows and drunkards with nothing better to do with their remaining time than talk stories and scare little children with tall tales. How were you supposed to believe beasts, much less entire civilizations of them, would be satisfied by the blood of one person if they truly wanted to attack a meager village, much less an entire country? Who decided they even wanted that blood? It was an argument you’d tried to raise countless times with your village council only to have it shot down with a simple “Well the Chosen never return, do they?” It pissed you off to no end. It didn't even take two wrinkles in the brain to conclude that it was more likely the animals of the woods, the elements-- or worse, other humans that caused the sacrificed to meet their demise; but no point you made would ever change their stone cold hearts.

And as though your age wasn't enough to make this birthday sour, the drawing was to be held this evening. The irony of someone losing their life on the day of your birth was palpable. Taking your usual chair at the kitchen table, you noticed the way two of your brothers squabbled over the last roll. With spiteful retaliation, you plucked it from between them taking a slow, mocking bite right in front of their faces. Maybe next time they'd think twice before ganging up to practically assault you out of bed.

"(y/n)?" Your head snapped up to attention, meeting your father's gaze. "How are you feeling?" You swallowed the fluffy bread quickly shooting a quiet reply. "I'm alright. Would feel a little better if you guys would stop lookin at me like I'm headed to the gallows." The laugh you were awarded from him was dry, but it eased some of the tension in his weathered shoulders nonetheless.

"I suppose it is a bit stuffy in here for a birthday, huh?" Your mother piped up sheepishly, wiping her hands on the dishtowel that hung from a belt on her hip. "Say, why don't you go visit Alikar? Trade some of our tomatoes for a basket of peaches-- bring those back and I'll make a pie we can all have after the drawing, how does that sound?" The little heads in the room visibly perked at the idea of getting their grubby little paws on something sweet. It wasn't often you had the sugar for such things after all.

Dismissing the idea of having to attend the black box event, you gave her a gentle nod. "Sure, I can do that. Need anything else while I'm out?" You inquired, stuffing the rest of the bread into your mouth before your youngest brother could snatch it from your hand. "No, dear. Just finish your breakfast and we'll handle the rest."

After practically beating your siblings off the table with a stick to get your fill, you quickly washed up and plucked the basket from the floor. “I’m off!” You called, getting no discernible acknowledgement as the chaos in the house never ceased. No matter to you-- the pie would be well worth the trip ahead.

Uncle Alikar.

The man was a huge part of the reason you didn’t believe a lick of all that ‘savage otherfolk’ nonsense. As your feet scuffed along the well worn path, old memories bubbled up to the surface like froth from the babbling brook that ran beside you.

You were the eldest of your siblings which, consequently, meant that when you'd been a rumbling little runt there were no older kids to show you the ropes and your parents' first trial run at raising a whole little person. This always resulted in you tumbling headfirst into trouble, but one day it had gone a little too far. Your tiny body approached the ledge of the stream. The same edge you would use every summer to hunt tadpoles. But, unbeknownst to you, the soil that was far too saturated with yesterday's rain to hold your weight. Without warning, it crumbled beneath your little feet sending you hurtling down into the rushing waters below. The merciless current carried you faster downstream than your father could run and just when your little head was wrenched under the raging current, a large beast sprung into the water after you. Before you could even process what had happened, your little lungs were hacking up the water they're inhaled, the coughing doing little for the burn in your lungs.

At first it was all a blur, you could hear your parents shouting as well as another rumbling voice above you responding back to them. Your little legs dangling far above the ground as a muscular arm stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. Someone was... holding you? You blinked away the tears, looking up to be met with a mouth full of razor-like teeth, thick sopping wet fur, and bright, slitted eyes. Misunderstanding what was going on, you began to cry out in fear. You were absolutely terrified you were about to be eaten by the ravenous river monster your mother warned you about countless times in attempt to dissuade you from wandering near the water when they weren't watching you. Only when those large paws handed you off to your mother ever-so-gently did you begin to quiet back down "Are you alright now, sweetpea? Ol' Alikar didn't mean to spook ya. Poor thing." He was some kind of rakshasa or tabaxi, evident by the sopping tail that swayed in the water behind him and round, fluffy ears that tilted back with concern. Speaking of...

Your knuckles rapped against the wooden door, sending warm clunks into the cottage. It was a serene place far from the human village which was always surrounded by the sweet smells of fruit and scents of warm, freshly made bread. Not but a few seconds later the upper half of the door swung open and there, in all his striped glory, was Alikar himself. “There’s the birthday girl!” He greeted you, his smile full of sharp teeth. A sight that originally took some getting used to but was now synonymous with a second home. “Hey Uncle Al. Mama sent me down to get some peaches for a pie.” You raised your basket of tomatoes.

He only chuckled in reply. “Oh, I know, how else was I supposed to give you your gift?” His paw pushed the lower part of the door open, welcoming you inside-- the scent of herbs and butter wafting much stronger from within. Surprised, you could only follow dumbly after him at first, setting the basket down as you took a seat on his kitchen table.

“A gift? Since when do you have the extra funds to get me gifts?! Aren’t you saving for the wedding? What about--”

    “Would you hush, child?” He laughed, taking amusement in your fretting. “You’re still new to the whole womanhood thing, what do you know about adult troubles?” You gave a halfhearted growl at him but had no argument to fire back at him. Even though you'd been considered an adult in human standards for quite a few years, Alikar did have more experience than you in that department.

"You get onto me about my finances but I don't see you moving out of your parents' home yet." He teased, carefully unloading every piece of fruit from the wicker basket with care. "Don't bully me! I'm plenty experienced in other things!" You whined. Snatching one of the many apples he'd left unattended. The crisp sweetness did little to nurse your slightly bruised ego but the coolness of the juice as it dribbled down you chin quenched plenty other, more satisfying needs. "Yeah? And what would your area of foreign expertise be? Apple thieving?"

You glared at his back, cheeks tinting "No! Like conversation! And courting."

"Pah!" He scoffed, soft paws stacking the soft, pink fruit into a neat arrangement. "Much good your 'experience' has gotten you, I am the only one getting married here out of the two of us." Okay. Ouch. "And I converse plenty well, thank you very much!"

The afternoon passed with similar banter as you stuffed yourself with whatever fruits Alikar let you get your hands on. In the end he had given you a carefully carved wooden totem of your favorite animal, peaches, and sent you on your way. Whatever wood the little figure was made from gave a faint, sweet scent when wet with water. A bit ironic considering how you met all those years ago but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You had asked him if he’d have wanted to come and celebrate with you and your family but, regretfully, he had to decline. As charming and kind as he was, the path to your home was far too close to the village for his comfort and the idea of one of your acquaintances or friends coming to celebrate as well and reporting him sent the hairs on the back his neck straight upward. It was no secret the village wasn’t excited about strange, new creatures given the black box tradition, so it was doubtful Alikar would be in the public eye anytime soon, as unfortunate as that was…

   You didn’t realize how much time you’d wasted until the shadows began stretching longer, snuffing out much of whatever light the day had left for you. “Ah shit.” You mumbled. You'd definitely missed the drawing, and at this rate you wouldn't be able to eat sweets till the next morning. Speeding up from a mozy to a quick trot back up the hill was unpleasant to say the least, but damn if those thoughts of peach pie didn't motivated you to haul ass.

However, as you drew closer your eagerness was smothered.

Hunching down, you quickly used the cover of the thorny brush to peer out at the scene below-- The terrified cries of your siblings pierced through your chest.

“Where’s the girl?!” A man demanded, spear to your father’s throat and eyes unwavering as your mother pled, voice breaking with fear as her children clung to her skirts.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ bout.” Your father replied curtly, looking the assailant back in the face with matching fury and anger. “I've only got sons.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up. Only once before, in your entire life, had you heard such a chilling tone come from that man. You'd been no older than 12 when a suitor equal to your mother in age offered to pay a hefty sum for your hand in marriage. The cruel chill in his voice as he sent the man away stuck with you-- but it didn't seem like this scenario would have the same outcome.

“Have it your way.”

A pit knotted itself in your breast as your family’s pleas turned to screaming cries, the spear cutting into you father's shoulder without mercy. Everything seemed to move so slowly after that...

First, you'd prayed he'd give in, relenting your location to the angry mob that surrounded him-- but your father stayed silent. That same fury in his eyes unwavering as he stayed on his feet.

Second, you though, maybe, the crowd would believe they'd truly made a mistake. Maybe a (y/n) didn't live in this village. Perhaps they'd been mistaken-- but that hope was quickly snuffed out as the spear-wielding man reeled the weapon back again, poised to strike.

You hadn't even known what you were doing as you pushed through the thorny brambles. Didn't even register as your fingers curled around a plump peach from your basket. And certainly didn't realize the strength you'd shot through your arm as you slung the fruit straight into the back of the man's head.

The hard impact followed by the splatter of sweet juices dripping down his neck was followed only by a second of silence.

Then two.

Then three.

All heads turning in your direction....

Run.

It was nothing more than instinct as you dropped the precious wicker basket your mother had weaved to the ground-- Alikar's carefully nurtured peaches bruising in the dirt. You shot back through the thorns. Dress skirt shredding, legs practically minced as you rushed through the uncaring wild.

Everything blurred.

Heart racing, the sound of shouting, the thundering of feet right on your tail. It was so much, too much-- too soon. There was no where else you could go. You didn't even know where you were going. Run. Run. RUN.

And run you did, even as your calves burned and blood dripped down your skin, you flew through the woods in a desperate flurry. It was fruitless though. Your wreckless abandon being brought to a halt with a blistering pain that shot through your ribs. The last thing you saw was the sight of the ground coming right at you, and then? Darkness.

I was going to wait till I finished part 2 to post this part but I'm too excited and part 2 is about halfway written anyway :) Stay tuned!

pt. 2

[disaster-daydreams]

𝔎𝔞𝔷 𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔨𝔨𝔢𝔯

(This is my first drabble for him, I've only seen the show so bear with me please.)

-

He draws closer with each slow, deliberate step. The air feels void of all oxygen, as if it's seeped out and away from your lungs, leaving you attempting to hide how you can't quite draw a breath.

In truth, he's utterly terrifying. His eyes are the darkest you've ever seen, the color rivals that of the shadows surrounding him- the darkness that colors his office. His spine is straight, and the muted thud of his cane only reinforcing the terror scorching your nerves as he gets impossibly close.

His face is a mask of stoicism. There isn't a single feature that betrays how he truly feels towards you, despite the raging thoughts of worry behind his eyes.

He knew he shouldn't have let you on the job, it being out of your range of skills- more suited for stealth and thievery as opposed to the brute force the job called for. You've paid the price for a new experience, and he's paid in the insufferable feeling of worry and panic that overtook him the moment that guard got too close for comfort.

You'd been slashed at, a poor attempt from the guard to go for your heart- instead landing a scrape just below your left collarbone. Still, Kaz was furious at that particular guard- ruthlessly knocking him down with the heavy metal of his cane, the embossed crow splattered with the poor man's blood, which had since been cleaned.

Above all, he was furious with himself. He allowed the one person he cared for in any romantic semblance to be hurt- granted, your pleas to be out on the job made it hard to say no, which he never could to you.

Right now, he towered over you. His form one alike to a statue, not knowing what to say, or how to express what he felt- not knowing how to convey why he was angry. You'd been awaiting his eventual lecture with static running through your veins, numbness overtaking your hands out of nervousness and the pure strength with which you clasped them together in front of you.

After a moment, his shoulders dropped and his hand hovered over yours, unsure of how to proceed but still wanting to make an effort at comfort. You unclasped your hands and delicately took his gloved one into yours, making sure not to apply too much pressure as to not make him uncomfortable.

"You're never going on a job like that again."

"May I ask why?"

His lips pressed together, he didn't want to confess that he cared. He couldn't- it had already been far too close of a call already, with you getting hurt. How could he forgive himself if you were to be out at the hands of his enemies, once they found out about his weakness towards you? The leverage they'd have once they knew of his feelings towards you? He didn't ever want to put you at risk, but he knew you adored your freedom, and he knew you could handle yourself more than well enough. That knowledge still didn't snuff the thoughts; the what if's? The deep seated worry for you.

So for now, he simply took a deep breath and said, "Because you're far too valuable as an asset to be hurt. You will stick to jobs suited for your skillset, and that is final."

-

[Written by Angel]

[notyour-valentine]

The Boy in the Window 14 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: Just like Tommy wanted, (Y/N) leaves Birmingham with the children.

Notes: This chapter might feel a little slow, but it will set up the final act. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 5321

Part 14

[Previously]

She felt sore. 

It was the kind of sore that one did not only feel in one's muscles after a long day of hard work, nor the kind of sore that made the joints ache after spending too much time on hands and knees scrubbing floors. 

It also wasn't the kind of sore one felt in their head after trying to read in too dim light. 

The closest comparison would probably have been the way one felt going to bed only to wake up with a heavy cold, carrying a dull sense that something was far from alright. 

And (Y/N) felt tired too- so very tired. 

It was the kind of exhaustion that lingered too deep for sleep to fix. 

And even if she were to find a bed to lie down in, sleep would not come. 

For that her thoughts were too volatile, too dark and too terrible. 

A part of her felt like she was being held together by nothing but a few strings, already coming loose at the seams. 

Any wobble, any slight bump and they'd rip, scattering pieces of her by the thousands. 

It made her want to scream. 

Only she couldn't. 

She still had the children. 

Their innocence had softened her clenched hands and had warmed her icy heart in those terrible days past in which she had waited, alone and afraid. 

They had soothed her, at least a little bit, but today they did not even reach her. 

It was as if an invisible but impenetrable wall had made her immune to any emotion apart from the bottomless misery and terror she felt. 

For them though, it was a wonderful, wondrous adventure filled with curiosities and excitement. 

Even before they had stepped out of the house, they had been running around, giggling about buccaneers and pirate ships, never knowing what the black leather bag held. 

In it were necessities for a few days, as well as important paperwork and a lot more money than she had ever held on to at any given point in her life. 

They also didn't know why (Y/N) went back upstairs alone, making sure Emma had truly packed both Duffie and Mrs. Tatters both. The loss of any one of her stuffed animals would be a tragedy to the both of them.

Nor did they have any inclination why she had lingered in the hall. 

And yet the very concrete possibility of her not returning to the house she had been born in, the one her parents and brother had died in, was not the one that frightened her. 

It almost seemed dull in comparison.

They had considered getting the children out of the city as early as possible, but discarded that thought rather quickly. 

 If they tried to leave in the black of night, it could be seen as suspicious and that was a risk they couldn’t take. 

The Shelbys were Small Heath born and bred, but so was Mrs. Changretta. It would be foolish to imagine she no longer had ties to the city, old acquaintances, friends or just people that had grievances with the Shelbys.

And, as Tommy had confessed in the black of night, he had broken the bargain he had made with Luca Changretta by involving the police, which had catapulted them back to square one. 

No rules. No honour. 

It was a tightrope they walked on, balancing the need for their safety with the necessity of not hinting that something may be amiss. 

They simply could risk drawing suspicion of any kind if they wanted his plan, which already seemed insanely dangerous to her, to work.

A woman, however, and two children taking a morning walk was far less dubious, especially since they had gone rather often. 

So for a change, she hadn't cared for the questioning glares that had followed her ever since Finn Shelby had driven her home. 

Once at the yard, she had Curly and Mr. Strong to help her, whether it be with the bag or with the children. 

They said hello to the horses, before making their way to the canal. 

The two men lifted the children onto the deck before Mr. Strong helped her. 

When her heels touched the swaying ground, he held onto her hands, giving them a little squeeze. 

"Tommy's got a plan."

It was meant to be reassuring, but (Y/N) knew of his other plan, the one that would only be fulfilled if his first went horrifically awry. 

And it made her blood run cold. 

Thankfully, Emma and Charlie had a blast exploring the boat before playing "I spy with my little eye" as Curly steered the boat through the canals and away from the city. 

That way they had little time to pay attention to her. 

“I spy with my little eye something that is green!”

“But everything is green!”

“Dark green!”

Listening to their chatter, (Y/N) sat down on a box.

From here, she could rest her arm on the railing and watch the long strands of factory buildings give way to the storage units as they left the heart of the city.

Before long, they passed the one he had taken them to on Charlie's birthday, his shoulders made heavy by John’s absence. 

They had walked for half an eternity that day and now it felt like they had reached it in a matter of heartbeats. 

Only a few weeks had passed, but they felt like an age ago now- when she had started the day early to make sure everything was prepared for Charlie only to end it in his father's arms. 

And on their way back from here, he had held Emma with such tender care, she almost felt ashamed to have once thought that the very hands that held her close could possibly hurt her. 

Don't, she reprimanded herself, forcing her eyes shut. 

Thinking about that would only make it worse. But she also couldn't not think of it. 

She tried taking deep and soothing breaths to steady herself, while listening to the slight splashing of water against the boat and to the hushed voices of the children so that she wouldn't have to listen to her own frantic heartbeat pulsing in her ears.  

Oh God please, she thought, wringing her hands in her lap. 

He couldn't die, he simply couldn't, not with so many relying on him. 

But while it couldn't be an option, it very much remained a possibility. 

When (Y/N) felt the tears come again, she began to count. 

Trying to think of nothing would only lead her down the same treacherous path towards the grim reality of the situation, so she focused on keeping the numbers steady. 

Anything so that the children wouldn't see. 

It wouldn't do to spread her sickening fear to them never, and especially not when they were so excited at the prospect of a little adventure.

Fate and the Changrettas might soon ruin that and more soon enough without her help. 

So (Y/N) sat there, with her eyes closed and counting as the boat carried them further and further away from the city, into uncertainty. 

And she did not move until the boat came to a halt. 

"Tommy said we can stop here.", Curly announced. 

His voice, as always, was gentle and soft. 

When her eyes fluttered open, the light blinded her. 

Curly had taken them out of the city, somewhere deep into the countryside where the straight lines of the canals of Birmingham had been replaced with a wider river, who's edges were no longer lined with bricks but rather bushes, grass and rocks. 

There was no sign of buildings, not even in the distance. Instead, all she could see were the trees that stretched out beyond the riverbank. 

Some towered larger than buildings with stems so wide she could wrap her arms around them without being able to touch her hands. 

There was something intact about this place, as if it hadn't ever seen the sight of people before. 

Curly seemed less in awe than she was, setting the anchor before taking a thick rope in his hands. 

Without a single second of hesitation, he jumped off if the edge of the boat into the shallow water, or ateast that was what she thought. 

Only when (Y/N) leaned over the edge, she could see that there was something not too far below the surface which allowed Curly to cross with ease, to a spot where he could tie the rope around a tree to secure the boat. 

"What do we do now?", Emma asked, tugging at her sleeve. 

This was her first time on a boat and she had taken it in her stride. 

Curly climbed back into the boat, bringing half a puddle with him. 

“I’ll show ya.”, He said, bending down behind a few boxes and returning with a large plank in his hands. 

The wood had mean iron hooks attached at the end of it, which he secured in place on the side of the boat before letting it drop over the edge, creating a bridge of sorts between them and the riverbank. 

Confident in his own work, he checked it with his own weight, giving himself a nod of approval before turning back to them. 

“Alright, Emma, c’mere.”, he said. 

He picked her daughter up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a doll, carrying her over the makeshift bridge with ease. 

But despite his known strength and expertise, while she watched, her heart thundered in her chest. 

“Stay right there!”, she warned Emma when Curly set her down on the green grass. "Don't even think about wandering off."

Emma nodded, although she leaned to both sides as much as she could to take in her new surroundings. 

Curly returned a moment later to fetch Charlie, sitting him down next to Emma who hadn’t dared to move a single toe. 

As soon as they were together, Emma began to whisper and point. 

Now, with her, Curly only held her arm as he helped her over the rather wobbly path. 

“Can we go play now, Mummy?”, Emma asked, as soon as her shoes sank into the muddy earth. 

Her eyes were already shining in giddy anticipation. 

“Not yet.”, she warned, as Curly returned to the boat once more to fetch their things. 

“This is a good place.”, he told her, as she helped him with the bags and basket of food. 

All (Y/N) could see was nature, but Curly led them through the maze of trees to a clearing she never would have suspected. 

A few trees must have been cut off to make room, with their trunks laid out in an almost perfect circle. 

In their midst, she could see the ideal spot for a firepit, that by the looks of it, had been dug long ago. 

“This is an old campsite?”, she asked. 

Curly nodded eagerly. 

“They used to come there, they did, back when they were children.”

A gypsy camp then, or something close enough to make no difference. 

Her eyes narrowing, she glanced around. 

It was close to water, and quiet, far away from trouble. Even as a city girl, she could recognise the bushes and knew that, come spring, they’d promise to hold berries of all kind. 

If she had come upon this place at any time but now, she could have considered it beautiful. 

Together with Curly, she laid out a thick blanket on the ground and while he saw to the fire, she unpacked the food they had brought. 

As they had been travelling for the better part of three hours, the children had to eat, even if the thought of food turned her stomach. 

They, and Curly, ate their sandwiches and then the fruit she had cut up before curling up beside her for some down time after lunch. 

Wrapped in a second blanket, close to the fire, they seemed more than content as she read them another story. 

But they didn’t stay quiet for too long, eager to explore this new place they found themselves in. 

And it would have been impossible for her to keep them close even if she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around them and cling to them the way she had done when they had been hiding in Emma's bedroom, expecting anything and fearing the worst. 

“Not too far.”, she warned them, before letting them go. 

First, they rushed around the campsite like little detectives, but soon they got an idea. 

“Mummy,”, Emma asked, “Mummy, can we build a hut?”

She nodded. 

Immediately they ran off again, to collect sticks and fallen twigs, with Curly helping them with the larger ones. 

He ran some larger ones into the ground, leaning them against a tree. 

It created something of a triangular shape, with a gap in the middle big enough for the children to fit inside. 

She did not know if it was a conscious decision of his to watch the children, but she was glad he did. 

Keeping her voice calm and her hands steady, her face composed and her eyes dry in front of them had taken such a toll on her it made her bones ache. 

And his attention gave her the freedom to walk among the trees and drop her mask somewhere they would not be able to see, somewhere where she could allow herself to be weak.

Once out of their sight, her fingers dug into the wood of tree to her side, clutching the old wood until she felt the dirt and chipped bark gather under her fingernails. 

It could all be over now. 

He could already be dead by now. 

All these thoughts, all these worries were familiar to her after weeks of the vendetta, but they seemed more daunting today, especially now that she knew what legacy he would leave her with…what he could have already left her with - a child, a little boy who adored, admired and needed his father. 

The last time around she had wondered how she could possibly tell him, but Tommy Shelby had left her with a heavier burden to carry. 

And what if they came for her?

A vendetta was not just between individuals, but between families. 

Tommy had broken the arrangement. And now Tommy had betrayed him.

If his plan had failed, they would be out for blood - for Tommy’s blood. 

Her grip on the old wood tightened as she took a trembling breath. 

God please protect him, she prayed, I know he’s not exactly your church’s definition of a good man, but he’s done good…more good than bad. I think. 

It was not a very good argument, especially not considering who she was bargaining with, and what was at stake. 

But he’s not bad. He does what he has to do to protect those he loves, And you didn’t exactly give him an easy start, now did you?

She sniffled, wiping her eyes with a trembling hand. 

Charlie needs him, she thought. Charlie needs him and he’s a good boy, a lovely, kind boy and he has already lost a mother. He can’t lose a father too. 

That’s when the tears came, the treacherous, backstabbing tears she had vowed herself not to shed. 

You have to let him live for Charlie. 

She didn’t dare ask for her own sake. 

It wasn’t a good prayer, or a conclusive one, but at least it was truthful. Above all other things, it was honest - honest and desperate. 

She took a few moments to compose herself, wiping her eyes and pressing her watch to her eyes to reduce the swelling, and time to get rid of the redness. 

Still, there was no certainty, so all she could do was hope, as she returned to the site. 

The children’s little hut had come along rather impressively with the help of Curly, and they were both aching to show her. 

They even had her climb inside. From somewhere they had gotten smaller logs which now served as tiny chairs, making her feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland after eating the cake.  

“Well done.”, she praised, stroking over the back of Charlie’s head. 

Please, Lord, please. 

But since it was very crammed with her and two children, she soon crawled out again, on her hands and knees, getting dirt all over them. 

The stillness of nature had been her friend before, almost a blessing. When she had first moved out of the city she hadn’t known how lucky she was, but now the whispering of the wind, the groan of the old trees, the faint sound of birds that hadn't chosen to leave for the winter seemed treacherous to her, a calm before the storm, the silence after a catastrophe. 

Sitting down on one of the many upturned logs, she tried to smooth the fabric of her dress down with shaking hands, trying to focus on anything but the noise inside her head. 

The silence didn't help. 

But then it wasn't silent anymore. 

At first it was a distant rumbling, the kind (Y/N) couldn't place, so she had reduced it to the river, or perhaps her own imagination, but it grew ever louder. 

The realisation came all at once, making her jump up. 

"Curly!", She hissed, not daring to cry out even if she wanted to. 

It would only give them away, more than the fire already did. 

She should have realised, she should have known and stopped it. Now it was like a beacon, giving them away. 

"Curly, someone's coming!", She repeated, glancing over her shoulder. 

A frown came to the man's face as he got up from where he had been kneeling with the children, tying thinner branches into knots. 

But then his expression changed.

"Oh it's alright.", He told her with a keen smile and eager nod. 

"Only good people know this place."

She did not share his conviction, but what could she do? 

Run? She wouldn't get far with two small children. 

Hide? Possibly, but then what, and more importantly where. 

All too soon she could see the headlights glimmering, like torchbearers of doom. 

And she froze, too uncertain even to pray, let alone move. 

"Dad!", Charlie cried out, running towards him with open arms, having recognised the car before they could make out the driver. 

Tommy picked him up with ease, setting him on his hip and carrying him back towards the fire. Behind him, the car door remaining open and abandoned, deemed irrelevant in comparison. 

When (Y/N) felt her knees begin to wobble, she braced herself on one of the many felled logs and sat down, exhaling. 

The children’s voices still rung through clear as day. 

“We were on a boat with Curly and Emma and I tried to count all the trees but they were too many and then we played I spy with my little eye but until Emma cheated.”, Charlie rambled. 

“I didn’t cheat!”, Emma snapped. 

“Yes you did!”, he argued, before turning to his father. 

“She said she saw something blue and she meant my eyes even though she knew I couldn’t see them- it was unfair!”

Emma only giggled and shrugged, as innocent as an angel on Christmas. 

“But then we came here and we built a hut, a proper hut! Curly helped us, and you can even come and sit inside.”, he continued, the squabble quickly forgotten. 

“Will you come see?”, Emma asked. 

Tommy’s gaze followed their eyes. 

“In a bit, Emma.”, he said, “Just let me talk to your mum first.”

Lord help me, she thought. 

But the divine intervention never came. 

Instead, Tommy slowly made his way over to her. 

Only when he was standing right in front of her, did she lift her eyes again. 

“You’re hurt.”

It wasn’t a question. 

She could see the swelling where his bottom lip had split, and the way he was slanted slightly to the side with every step he took. 

A bruise at least, possibly even a cracked rib. 

“It’s nothing.”, he assured her.

Despite his words, she reached for her handkerchief, drizzling some water on it before she went to wipe the dried blood under his nose away. Only a little had remained, but it was still there, and doing this felt infinitely better than doing nothing. 

“No one’s gotten hurt but me.”, he assured her in a whisper. 

“Just me - and Luca. He’s dead.”

(Y/N) nodded, not sure how to react. 

The church had taught her to value life, and even without all it’s lessons, she would have felt uncomfortable to find joy in the death of another human, but relief was different thing. 

And she felt relieved. 

More than her body was able to show, maybe even able to handle, as she only nodded once more. 

It wasn’t right to be glad that someone had died, but maybe it was less wrong as long as someone else had died. 

But that was a question for a priest or a scholar, not someone like her. 

She’d tell him and say her prayers, serve her penance, but (Y/N) Hale doubted it would make her feel any different. 

Thank God, she thought, as Charlie pulled his father away, having taken him by the hand to show him a creation of his own. 

Thank God it’s Luca and not him.

~

It wasn’t a conscious decision they made, it just happened.

For a while she had been too drained and too impartial to make any decisions, allowing the children to take the reins.

Tommy hadn't fared much better and so it had been up to Curly, who had indulged them.

Only when the sun was already setting, did they wonder how they would get back.

“I’m not driving in the dark…not tonight.”, Tommy had whispered into the crackling fireplace over which the children roasted the remaining apples, having pierced them with sticks they had sharpened with Curly’s pocket knife.

Tommy hadn’t eaten yet, not a sandwich, not a bit of cake, not a slice of apple.

And yet he seemed to be more gathered than he had been the last time around.

He was focused, still. And his hands did not shake.

But she could see he was tired.

Perhaps because it was the first time he allowed himself to feel the exhaustion of the last few weeks, now, when it had come to the end.

In the end, Curly had taken the car back to the city, and with it the message that Tommy would not return tonight.

Someone had to tell the others he was alright, but something kept Tommy from returning to the city just yet and she did not want to leave him all by himself.

That left only one alternative.

“What if we float away?”, Emma asked suspiciously, kneeling on the bench, her nose pressed to the tiny window from which they could look out.

What Emma tried to see there, (Y/N) did not know.

In the absence of furnaces, of factory lights and street lamps, the only light source came from the sky, and the rest of the world lay in darkness.

“We won’t.”, Tommy told her. “There’s an anchor and the boat’s tied to a tree.”

Still, she frowned, as (Y/N) continued to braid her hair to make sure it wouldn’t get tangled.

“But if we float, where do we end up? All the way in the ocean?”

“It would take more than just one night for us to float to the ocean.”, (Y/N) told her when she tied off the ends.

Emma chewed on that for a moment, climbing into her lap.

Still, she frowned.

“It’ll be fine, eh.”, Tommy assured her.

I hope, (Y/N) thought.

She wasn’t too keen on this idea of his, but it beat trying to sleep outside in the cold, even if they couldn't light a fire in here.

“Mummy, do you want to sleep on the boat too?”, she asked, turning to look at her.

“I think so.”, she said. “I wouldn’t want to sleep out here all alone. I get all cold and scared.”

“I’d stay with you.”, Charlie offered.

When she looked at him, she saw nothing but devotion and loyalty in his bright blue eyes - those darling eyes, which she would never forget.

(Y/N) reached over and gave his hands a squeeze, knowing her attempt at a smile wouldn't be enough.

“That’s very sweet, but I think we’ll all stay here.”

With that, she allowed her eyes to trail over the small space below deck.

It had never looked to be a large boat, but she had not expected it to seem this tiny from below deck.

How on earth this little boat had held all the Shelbys at once, was beyond her.

There was only one bed, or rather a small cushioned bench that could serve as a bed.

Tommy lifted up the lid to reveal some blankets which seemed to be older than he was.

One glance at them was enough for her.

“We will not give them to the children.”, she insisted, her tone sharper than she had anticipated.

He picked one up, and turned it, as if searching for whatever she deemed insufficient about it, but he chose not to argue.

And so the children took the blanket she had brought to keep them warm. She rolled her coat up and tied her scarf around it to create a pillow large enough for the two of them.

For herself and Tommy, who had to make do with the floor, she used the age-old blankets to create a softer surface for them to sleep on, but only after adding the blanket they had used to sit on earlier on top.

It had a few stains by now, but she by far preferred it to any of the other options which had hibernated in the belly of the boat for Lord knows how long.

Best she could, (Y/N) tried to get the children ready for bed.

Thanks to the black leather bag, she could provide them with sleeping clothes, making Emma point at her and cry out: “You knew, Mummy! You knew!”

She did not correct her.

However, in addition to her nightgown and Charlie’s pyjama, she ensured that they both wore jumpers on top of them to keep warm.

Each of them, despite the complaints, had to wear two pairs of socks.

She did not want them to get cold feet during the night.

Once they were snuggled up on the bench and the blankets, (Y/N) knelt down in front of it, first reading the story, then saying their prayer before singing.

Dilly-Dilly was the first choice, and then the Cherry song. Charlie’s favourite.

Not wanting to risk missing another word, he was turned on his side, his head resting on his arm as he watched her, diligently mouthing along to the words.

“A cherry when it’s blooming, it has no stone.

A chicken in an eggshell, it has no bone.

The story of ‘I love you’, it has no end."

The words got stuck in her throat and she had to clear it to be able to finish the song.

"A baby when it’s sleeping has no tears to shed.”

With a shuddering sigh, (Y/N) offered the both of them a smile, before placing their hands back to their chest and leaning over to kiss their forehead, first Emma's, then Charlie's.

“Good night, my darlings!”, she told them with a soft smile. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Mummy.”

As soon as she was finished, Tommy dimmed the small oil lamp in the corner.

It felt strange for her to undress in such a small space, with the children so close they could touch her and him not far away either.

She too had brought a nightgown with her, but instead of changing into that, she decided she would probably be warmer if she slept in her normal clothes. So she removed her belt and clasps, only opting to change her blouse for a jumper to keep herself warmer.

Tommy did not have any clothes to change into and so all he did was undo his tie, remove his vest and belt, and get rid of his cufflinks.

He held them in his palm and stretched his hand out to her, allowing her to place her earrings and watch alongside them.

Then, he let the lamp go out, dousing the boat in near complete darkness.

“Oh-oh.”, she heard Emma whisper.

“It’s alright, my darling.”, she assured her, only to feel a small hand searching in the dark for her.

Shifting closer to their bench, she let Emma’s hand clutch hers, holding her arm up.

That way, however, she had moved away from the layer they had made for her and Tommy.

In the darkness it was less that she could see his movement, but more that she could sense him pulling the pile of blankets closer.

Then he sat down, his back leaning against the wall.

(Y/N) drew circles on the palm of Emma’s hand until she could hear her breathing relax and felt her fingers slack.

In her mind, she counted to three hundred, before as gently as if she was difusing a bomb, placed her hand back onto the bench.

She moved in slow motion as she settled down, realising that Tommy had only waited for her.

With all the good blankets given to the children, and the others cushioning the floor, she had mentally prepared herself for a chilly night.

But then she felt the weight and warmth of something on her, first on her legs, then all the way on her shoulders too.

She fabric was coarser than the blankets, and heavier too, but the inside was laced with something softer.

In the end it was more the smell of his cigarette smoke than the fabric that gave it away for what it was.

“What about you?”, she whispered out into the darkness, her voice barely audible as not to wake the children, as her hands ran along the collar of his coat.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll get cold.”

The darkness made her cautious as she reached out.

Her fingers brushed against his side and she pulled back as if she had burned herself.

But then she shifted closer towards him, now knowing where to find him.

It wasn’t right for him to get cold, especially since he had given her his coat for warmth.

“If we turn it,”, she suggested, “it will cover both our chests.”

“Or you just come closer.”

His words cut like a knife and (Y/N) was glad he could not see her face.

She bit her lip until the pain made her focus.

It would only make things harder, but at the same time she did not want him to get ill.

What damage could this do? Genuinely?

They had shared a bed for weeks, had slept in each other’s arms, had found comfort in each other’s embrace.

But that had been before…

Still, she found herself nessling closer towards him.

His arm found hers shoulders and drew her onto his chest.

At least that way, she would not feel cold, and neither would he, but the fact that he held her, and the fact that she could hear his heartbeat, made her own chest burn.

For a few minutes he only held her, and they both listened to the soft, steady breaths of their children.

But then he dared to speak again, his words warm against her ear.

“It was Arthur.”, he whispered. “Arthur who did it.”

(Y/N) nodded.

Arthur was the eldest, and he had been closest with John, especially after the war.

If anyone had to do it, it was right that it was him.

“Arthur did it.”, he said once more, his chest inflating from the deep inhale.

“And it’s over.”

She forced her eyes shut and buried her head in his chest.

His shirt smelled of smoke and gin, of his soap, of green grass - of him.

By now she’d recognise the scent of his shaving cream anywear, but he had said it and it was the truth.

It was over.

End of Part 14

~

Part 15

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!

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[mindscapic-exposure]

Post Concerning a Worrying Trend I've Seen

With the start of Amane's trial I think now is good time to voice my concerns about something that is not exclusively about her but is nonetheless very relevant in current events (and I'm probably going to be pointing at her trial most since it's the most clear sign of this). But something I've noticed this trial, something I'd expected but am nonetheless sad to see, is the heavier sway of people towards Guilty or general harsher methods compared to the last trial. A brief pause before a continue to reassure people that I am still aware of the difference between fiction and reality, so no, I am not saying that I think people who would punish people in the project would do the same thing in this reality if confronted with it. I'm aware that having the distance of acting behind a screen, seeing these characters through song and art is different than people reacting to the people they see every day. Just so that's out of the way. But I do also think the difference might be part of the point in a different way, how this extreme environment, voting on prisoners as a warden, in itself is likely to influence people into doing things they wouldn't normally do. It's been talked about how this may (and is) influencing Es, and judging based on some fans' comments, I think those participating in voting are not exempt from the process as they act through Es' role. Let's go back to Amane, since as I said before, she seems like the most obvious example of this. During the first trial a lot of people who were voting her Guilty were claiming that they ultimately were going to forgive her, that it would be "just for this trial", but that she "needed to learn her lesson". I didn't agree with the rationale even at the time, because I'd already seen from experience why that logic doesn't work. And come trial 2 it didn't, it went badly (albeit not in the way I expected). But that was the rationale people had at the time. And now, come trial 2 a lot of people are suddenly feeling reason to vote her Guilty again. Even after being shown what Guilty means, even after a lot of people being aware that it essentially constitutes to (at least) psychological torture. I've even heard some people who thought she shouldn't have been voted Guilty the first trial rationalizing voting her that way this trial, thinking they "have to", or it'll be "worse" otherwise. And isn't that strange? Like I said, I don't think people who voting harshly would necessarily treat a child that way in person. I'm aware that most people are voting Amane Guilty would probably say "I'd never hurt a child" and "I'd never psychologically torture a child". And they'd mean it. Which is why I think it's important to remind people about the name of this project. Milgram. Named for The Milgram Experiment. A psychological experiment where participants were asked to "punish" someone for making mistakes. I won't draw this out by explaining all the details, as I'm aware that most of you already know about it, and I won't talk down to you like that. But the participants weren't particularly malevolent people going in, they were normal people. Just like here. I imagine many of them, if asked beforehand, would probably say "I'd never kill a person". Just how many of those same people went on to administer what they thought would be a fatal shock anyway? This is a fictional project, yes, but these votes don't exist in a vacuum, and the environment is part of the process. So if you vote, try to think about how you too, are also being influenced.

[acourtofthought]

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

He didn’t want to admit he liked it. Didn’t want to admit that he found the city beautiful. That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre’s new family … It was what, long ago, he’d once thought life at Tamlin’s court would be.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him

What if this specific line:

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly.

Is actually Elain sensing / seeing / hearing one of Lucien's deepest desires, which is to have family and friends. The line comes shortly after Lucien admitting to himself that he's been struggling since coming to Velaris because he thought that what Feyre has now found is what he'd have once upon a time in Spring.

Which is why when we have these paragraphs:

Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.”

My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”

A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

Elain now watched Lucien warily. Blinking every now and then. She revealed no hint of whatever she might be seeing—sensing. None.

Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs—as if she’d speak to him. Stop him.

She doesn't say anything to him, despite the urge to. Because what she heard in Lucien's heart is that he has been sad for so long, not having a real family and she knew that by letting him go, he would find Vassa which would lead to him discovering part of the found friends / family he'd been looking for.

And where Lucien does not at first understand what Elain needs, where he might not even be sure exactly what it is she's asking because of the overwhelming emotions he's processing with the bond and his past / guilt over Jesminda:

He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

It's not long before I do think he realizes is that what she needs is time. Time to figure out if she still wants to be with Graysen, time away from him without the bond drawing emotions from her she's not ready for, time to find her footing now that she's in this new world having been made into this new thing:

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

“I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke.

He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …”

There's the proverb, “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be," which is a reminder to let go and trust in a bigger plan. It's about surrendering something beloved in the hopes that fate will intervene and bring it back—if it's truly meant to be yours.

Elain and Lucien aren't in love, I'm not insinuating that at all. But they share a connection with one another that they'll never share with anyone else and even though they don't truly know one another yet, they have a window into the others soul.

While they didn't ask to be, they are pulled towards each other and it would be so easy to give in to that instinct. But it wouldn't be giving in for the right reasons and they'd bring all sorts of baggage into their relationship.

So they both in some way, are letting the other go because they know it's what the other person needs.

Rhys and Feyre have such an epic story because he knew they were mates yet he never let on how much he was suffering through their bond, essentially freeing her without guilt so she could try and find her happiness with Tamlin. But Feyre finding her way back to Rhys when it was the right time made the eventual acceptance of their bond a beautiful thing and elevated Rhys to book boyfriend status for a lot of readers because of the sacrifice he made for her (his own pain and suffering).

To me, that's what's happening with both Elain and Lucien who have been aware of their bond from the start.

There's no hard earned victory if the moment it snapped they ran into one anothers arms and lived happily ever after. Instead while they both felt drawn to one another, they knew they weren't ready to fully give themselves to someone else but also sensed what the other person needed so they walked away for now.

To me, their distance won't matter in the end. It won't matter if Elain had a fling or she avoided him (which she could actually be doing because it's becoming more difficult to not want to give in to the pull she feels while in his presence and she knows it's not their time). If they end up together, their foundation will be incredibly strong because Elain and Lucien know that they gave one another the time and space to decide what it is they wanted. Neither will be left with any doubt that at the end of it all they're both exactly where they want to be.

[therealtsk]

Destiny's Lore, and Why It Didn't Need The Witness

So, I know most of you follow me for Worm or DC stuff, so here's an admission of my tragic past: I used to be a big Destiny fan! I know, I know, i'm losing followers by the letter, but in my defense, I dropped out years ago, around Shadowkeep. I briefly checked the game out again during the Witch Queen but never actually finished the campaign since I didn't have any friends to play it with at the time and so I couldn't force myself back into it's goddawful grind. To be clear, I've never played Destiny for the gameplay. I'm one of those weirdos who actually really, really liked the setting's lore and world building. It was one of the most unique things I'd ever seen, this really engaging mix of high fantasy and sci-fi all at once. And you know what? Some of Destiny's lore books are honestly incredible! The writing is emotional, the prose evocative, so many alien perspectives expertly captured. The Books of Sorrow, Thorn, Truth to Power, Book of Unveiling, The Ahamkara gear...goddamn, they're so good. But I got caught up on Destiny lore a little bit ago, and...wow. Bungie did it. They killed the last thing I still loved about Destiny. And they killed it with the Witness.

Let's talk about the Witness for a bit. The Witness has taken the slot of the new Big Bad for the Destiny universe, previously held by The Darkness. Their backstory is that they used to be individuals of a race that was the first to be blessed by The Traveler, Destiny's slated Big Good. This race proceeded to have a golden age that lasted for eons, with them eventually running out of things to do, and thus asked the Traveler to tell them what their purpose is. Obviously, the Traveler didn't answer, and their entire civilization had a collective existential crisis so hard that they decided that if the universe didn't come pre-built with a purpose, they'd just kill everyone and reboot the universe so that it did. To accomplish this, they tracked down the Traveler's never-before mentioned Dark counterpart and all fused into a single being, seen here. And on the topic of the Witness's appearance, I'm sorry, but the visual design here is just...bad. It's just bad. It's almost painfully generic. They have a geometrically rippling long black coat with no defining features, a pale human-ish face, and their brain appears to be leaking other faces in a smokecloud constantly, which i think looked far cooler on paper then it did in a render. Compare this to Savathûn or even Oryx's visual designs and they don't hold a candle. Speaking of comparisons to the Hive Gods, this is where my rant truly begins, so buckle up.

The fact that the Witness has all but replaced the Darkness- newly released lore suggesting every time we thought a character was interacting with the Darkness itself, it was really them talking to this character- that the Darkness is now stated to be completely apathetic and unintelligent, nothing more then a power source to draw upon- not only runs directly counter to some of my favorite lore in the franchise but cheapens every other Darkness-affiliated plot line and character. Not only does the Witness not speak at all like The Darkness has in the past, making the claim of them being one and the same dubious to me, but it also results in all of the Witness' Disciples (their right-hand men) being shoehorned into storylines in ways that feel almost painfully lazy. Case in point: The Lore of the Hive. As mentioned above, The Books of Sorrow is some of my favorite sci-fantasy with fantastic horror elements and incredibly evocative bits of prose. It's a gripping narrative how in the face of utter annihilation, a group of siblings make a desperate bargain with unknowable creatures once kept buried beneath the earth...and how their once noble efforts to save their people from death turns into a bloody conquest across the stars. It's an excellent tale, showing us how the truest test of character is who you are when times are hard- will you let those hard times twist you into a foul shape, or will you endure in spite of them? It establishes the cosmology of Destiny, with the Hive and Worm Gods being established as some of the most powerful and important beings in the story, powerful disciples of The Deep. With the new retcons, Rhulk (a Disciple of the Wintess) shows up, basically tells the Worms to shut up and listen cause he's the real Disciple of the Darkness, not them, and they're going to fall in line now. Because now, instead of the syzygy being a real threat that did devastate the planet the Krill lived on, Bungie's saying that the entire thing was a lie created by the Witness and the Worm Gods. Which takes the aspect of "sometimes bad things just happen but it's up to us to choose how we will let those things change us" that's key to the narrative and completely removes it- which is so backwards from how this all works! Evil lives in all of us, waiting for when we're weak to tempt us into doing what's wrong in the name of survival or pleasure or whatever virtue it disguises itself as- it doesn't stroll up out of nowhere and create a twelve-step-point-plan to ensure that we become evil too! Putting aside that, as I admit it's a subjective criticism based on my own perspective on the nature of morality, I think it greatly cheapens multiple other stories. Now that the Darkness is completely amoral as a force and it's just the Witness who is corruptive, I guess Dredgen Yor, Jana-14 and all of the other guardians we've seen fall were all getting brain blasted by this one dude, instead of their falls being a result of being seduced by power they should have known better then to touch blindly. Now, I can already hear people saying "But what about Stasis!" And yeah, I have Thoughts on Stasis too. I don't entirely dislike it, but I do dislike how it's been executed. Sword Logic works- or worked- by basically asserting yourself above physical reality. "I am the strongest thing alive, and I prove it thus." You defeat a powerful enemy and take their strength for your own. That's something you can work as being doable without inherently corrupting you. After all, it's not considered evil to fight for your own survival or for the protection of others. It just so happens that constantly introducing your brain to the idea that killing other things will make you objectively better then them is bad for you even if those powers weren't sourced from a primordial consciousness that has and will try to influence you for it's own ends.

To use a metaphor, Sword Logic is akin to something like nuclear power- sure, it's got one hell of a kick, but if you let your guard down around it, not only will it fuck you up but it'll contaminate everything around you with the fallout. But now to say that "nope, the darkness is totally fine and not even alive and aware it's just the same thing as the light but different colors and this whole time it's just been this one guy who's been ruining it for everyone else" is so...god, it's so much less interesting. And I think ultimately, that's my problem with the Witness. As a whole, they are just so much less interesting then what we had before! I loved the Books of Sorrow and Unveiling so much because it was such a fascinating display of completely alien thought and genuine nuance. The Darkness doesn't do what it does because of any tired trope of "evil nihilist" or just might makes right, it's a living embodiment of a cosmic philosophy in a war with another, both of them arguing for how all of creation should work. Whether or not the only things in life that matter are the things that live, and that to live is to suffer so ergo only that which cannot break should live, so you must break everything until only the absolute strongest shapes remain- or if it is possible for creativity and diversity and soft things to exist and create a life that is worth living in spite of the inevitable pain we all go through. That is so much more interesting then a bunch of dudes who are ultimately just mad about the fact that there's no easy to find and read manual for our purpose in life! It's such a basic, not to mention human motivation in comparison to what The Darkness had when it was a character in it's own right. And so...yeah.

[nerves-nebula]

I hope this isn't an unwelcome addition re: your vent about race, but it reminds me of my own experiences.

I didn't know I was latino until I was 13. Yeah there were *very* strong "hints", what with the whole "grandparents only speak spanish with limited english", "parents can speak spanish", "we're brown (except for my mum)", & "eat spanish food at grandparents". But like. I had never heard someone say what we actually were and I was afraid it'd be racist if I assumed we were latino if we might not be. For some reason.

Hah, I remember getting kinda mad at people who (rightly) criticized the "ambiguously brown" trope in media, because it was the experience I most related to. That's what *I* was. I wasn't anything specific, I was just ambiguosly brown for most of my life.

So like. I finally asked my dad what we were and he was essentially like "haha what are you stupid or something. We're LATINO obviously, what a silly question!"

So I just went "Oh okay." And pumped the brakes on our conversation. Quickly after I realised that that wasn't enough for me. "Latino" is a rather broad category, I wanted to know what *exactly* we were.

I felt kind of stupid after that though, and I didn't want to draw attention to how stupid I was by asking a follow up question (nor did I want to talk to my dad), so I just didn't until I was 16.

I got to thinking about it again, and I realised that El Salvador had been mentioned quite a few times in regards to ~parent lore~ (I truly did not know much about my parents. I literally didn't even remember my mum had an older brother. So I'd just try to piece together their stories whenever they ranted to us about like how our other parent had ruined their life or something. Bits and pieces they'd shared with us over the years).

So I texted my dad about it (who I was thankfully far away from by then. Funnily enough this was one of our last conversations before I cut contact with him), and he said we were salvadorians 👍. So yeah.

But like. I feel so disconnected to my culture. I don't even know what our culture IS. And despite now living in a place with many latinos, I feel like I still can't get into it. Firstly because it would involve me interacting with people. But secondly (and most importantly) because I feel like interacting with latinos would just reveal to them how unlatino I am. I can't speak spanish. I know nothing about us.

One thing about it is that I feel like I have to learn Spanish before I'm allowed to try to engage. But learning a whole language takes so much time. And I don't like doing it because it reminds me that I don't already know it! And I *should*!

Oh well. Not like I could've learned it when I was younger, or in that house with my dad. I don't know why they didn't raise us bilingually. But it's not like I could've learned it when I was young either, my dad makes fun of my mum for her spanish (she spoke exclusively Spanish when she was younger, but had to learn English when she moved to the US at 8. She lost a lot of her Spanish since then), which would make me way too nervous to practice spanish and be bad at it at first with him around (he somehow didn't think that would impact us? He ended up wanting us to learn spanish, so good luck with that when you act like *that*).

Also. I keep worrying that I look white. I've always been light skinned, but until 8th grade I thought it was obvious I wasn't white?? But maybe not so. It's not like I can ask people.

In 8th grade the teacher briefly left the room and left me in charge of it (I was seen as the most responsible/trustworthy), so I made a joke about me turning out to be a dictator, to which someone joked about that being racist, to which I said "It's not racist, 'cus I'm not white" (in a manner that I *hoped* conveyed that I was *joking*, and that the joke was that poc can still definitely be racist (I mean c'mon just be around my dad, you'll see)).

And he just stared deadpan at me. I thought he confused me for white, so I kept reiterating that I wasn't, and he just stared and stared at me the whole time.

I realised later that maybe he thought I was being serious, and that was why he wasn't smiling, or maybe he just didn't think the joke was funny.

But like. I couldn't know. "Later" was actually quite a *while* later, so at that point I was already out of school at home all day, under the pretense of "homeschooling" (there was never any schooling).

I don't even know why it matters if I look white. There are plenty of latinos I know of that could pass as white, who I never doubt are latino. Ugh. I don’t know. This is an issue that could be solved by interacting with more latinos. In fact, all of these issues could be solved by hanging out with more latinos. I gotta get over myself sometime and realise that there are PLENTY of latinos who are disconnected from their culture and who don’t know spanish so it's FINE interacting with fellow latinos is FINE there's no way I can fail some sort of latino authenticity test. Whatever. Problems and solutions for later.

because I feel like interacting with latinos would just reveal to them how unlatino I am. I can't speak spanish. I know nothing about us.

hahh. sameee

This is an issue that could be solved by interacting with more latinos.

also same... UNFORTUNATE!

i getcha tho. and i also get the whole "not knowing what we are until i'm a teen" thing. ive always thought it was weird that my mom and dad know a ton about their own family histories but never really made much effort to impress it into us. EH oh well.

[argisthebulwark]

i wanna get fucked by bryn on mercer’s table. before mercer is dead. i want everyone to be out and about, technically nobody knows but they just kinda realise. yknow? i think that’d be funny. mercer realising what the weird darkened stains on the wood are.

what’s he gonna do? steal a rag from a beggar and crawl into mavens ass?

i wanna fuck bryn on that table.

aah YES like before they even know that he's actively sabotaging the guild or anything. it's just because he's an ass and they think it's funny.

mercer asking delvin why all of his paperwork is shuffled and out of order when he's positive he organized it before heading home. barging into the flagon and demanding to know who spilled a drink on his desk.

"how do you know it's a spill?"

"it's sticky, like one of you drunkards splashed ale on your way through the cistern!"

(nsfw below the cut. minors do not interact.)

Mercer was too lost in his anger to notice the look Brynjolf shot the new recruit from across the Flagon. No one was going to take responsibility. He told himself that it was fine, he expected to less from their run-down group.

"Stay away from my desk."

He swore he'd catch the culprit. He wasn't sure why he cared so much - maybe it was the amusement written clear as day across all their faces when he brought it up. They were mocking him. They thought he was overreacting. Well, he'd just have to show them how badly he could punish someone for messing with him.

Weeks passed and still his desk was disheveled. Mercer made a habit of arriving early to the Cistern to catch them - the stains on his desk had only grown after finding his inkwells spilled and dripping onto the ground. He'd lost itineraries of important shipments. It was not all in his head.

He counted each bed as he passed. Rune, Vipir, Niruin, Cynric. Mercer paused when he saw an empty bunk, scoffing a moment later when he spotted Brynjolf curled around the new recruit.

Mercer did not like her. The way she looked at him without a hint of fear was troubling. She gave him a bad feeling.

Since his outburst in the Flagon he'd felt more eyes on him, people snickering whenever called to his desk. A dull rage pulsed within him every time Rune snickered or Vex made a show of not touching his table. They all thought he was a fool, they'd lost respect for him. He couldn't put his finger on the reason but he knew it had to do with Brynjolf's new pet.

His tables at home weren't nearly as neat as his desk in the Cistern. Rolls of parchment were spread at every angle, books flipped open and quills placed haphazardly. After digging through every file and nearly tearing his hair out Mercer told himself that he'd simply left an important document in his desk. It was fine, he always locked the drawers. No one else could have seen it.

Despite the vein throbbing in his forehead he told himself that it was a good thing. Checking on his desk in the middle of the night was a great idea, none of his thieves would expect him so late. Surely he'd catch whoever was messing with his belongings.

The Cistern was near silent when Mercer slipped down the ladder. Water lapped at the stone floor and the faint chatter of the Flagon floated in easily. How had he never thought of coming in the middle of the night? Even if he didn't catch the culprit they'd all be drunk enough to spill some secrets.

"Bryn,"

One glance toward his desk and Mercer froze. Shame and rage flooded through his veins. He wasn't sure if he wanted to bolt back up the ladder or draw his sword.

Papers fluttered to the damp floor and ink stained the sides of his desk in fat drops. The recruit's hands clasped the edges of Mercer's desk which shook with each thrust Brynjolf sent into her. He saw the grin on Brynjolf's shadowed face, hands keeping her bare hips pinned to the table. He heard her whimpers and Brynjolf's guttural groans, her breathy voice when she begged him for more. Mercer's stomach churned horribly at the sight.

"Good job, lass." Brynjolf growled, carelessly shoving a roll of parchment into a puddle in his pursuit to kiss down her back. "You're doing so good for me."

"Gods, yes." She moaned and Mercer thought he was going to be sick. It was a terrible sight - Brynjolf fucking his new recruit over his desk, her nails scraping the varnish and arms stained with his ink. The recruit moaning and drooling on his itinerary when Brynjolf fucked her.

Every thrust of his hips sent more of Mercer's precious work flying all over the Cistern. Their Guild armor was a careless heap near his overturned chair. It was deplorable.

Mercer returned to his home without a word. He was sure no one had seen him as they were quite preoccupied. He did not sleep well - how exactly would he punish them? He could kick the recruit out. He could claim she stole something. It would be easy enough to drop a few extra septims into her pack and she'd be torn to shreds. Did Brynjolf care about her enough that it would whip him back into shape?

He stormed into the Cistern bright and early, satisfied with his plan for retribution. The state of his desk was worse than he'd ever seen it. Brynjolf didn't even make an effort to hide it. Mercer shivered at the memory of scrubbing something sticky off the table weeks ago, not lingering on what it could have been.

"Brynjolf." He boomed, awaiting the satisfaction of their shocked faces already. "I need a word with you and your recruit."

"She's sleeping." Brynjolf sounded awfully nonchalant when he spread his hands over the dried ink stains. Mercer was ready to unleash his fury, to tell Brynjolf that they were being turned in to the guards for their actions. "I'm sure you understand, Mercer. You got a good look last night."

[vampireninjabunnies-blog]

I've just accepted at this point that I'll have to write this story in pieces and connect it as I go lol.

Tagging my mutuals with no pressure to share @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @poisonedtruth @voidika @baldurrs @socially-awkward-skeleton @redreart @hopecountyisforlovers @aceghosts @confidentandgood @nightwingshero @trench-rot @detectivelokis and I know I'm missing people sorry

Simple Joys

The arrival of autumn had painted the landscape of Holland Valley in warm tones of gold and orange. The late afternoon sun bathed them in warmth in spite of the chill that kissed their skin.

Jacob smiled, watching his baby brother shift nervously in place. John's grin was so big he thought his face might split in two at any moment. He couldn't recall a time since they'd found him alone in that shelter when he'd seen John so genuinely elated. He honestly hadn't really noticed how rehearsed John's smiles were, but now he had nearly two years of true joy for comparison.

It thrilled him to see how happy he was. He walked over to Nick who stood nearby, grinning broadly.

"Thanks for the call Rye. We woulda hated to miss this."

Nick fidgeted, uncomfortable in his button up shirt. Dressing up was not something he did often.

"No problem. You know how John is. So focused on setting this up, it just slipped his mind."

Nick looked around his grin fading, Faith was adjusting the lace hanging from a tree, Jerome chatting idly with Jim and he knew Kim was with Esther helping her get ready.

"So I noticed we're missing someone."

Jacob shifted awkwardly. He had called Joseph and told him he should be here but Rye was right. He wasn't here. Joseph had sounded irritated over the phone and accused John of being selfish. It didn't matter if they still planned to have the big wedding everyone had spent the last few months putting together, it didn't change the fact that John was a Herald. He needed to consider the project.

An argument Jacob thought was stupid to be honest. If John and Esther wanted a small private ceremony, who were they to tell them no. He tried to convince him to come, that he'd regret it if he missed their baby brother's wedding.

He sighed. "Yeah. I know, just kinda hoping that he's just late."

Nick cocked his head to one side, his expression skeptical. "Really? If you say so. Not surprised though."

"Looks like things are getting started. Should take our spots." Jacob grunted avoiding the subject. He grabbed his guitar while Nick and Jim took their places next to John.

There wasn't much he could give to his brothers but this he could do. It's why Joseph had put him in charge of the choir. And he didn't mind giving something of himself besides violence. Violence made a poor wedding anyway.

Esther came around the bend with Kim as Jacob played his guitar. A little tune he'd written just for them.

John's eyes widened when he saw her. He sighed out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as she started walking toward him. Everything around them seemed to fade away. She looked like an angel to him. Her dress was lace falling to her calves, revealing her bare feet. Simple, white, it suited her perfectly.

The crown of wildflowers sitting atop her fiery strands holding her veil in place. She smiled dreamily up at him, and he took her hand. She hadn't bothered with makeup but he thought she was beautiful and didn't need any.

He barely registered Jerome's voice as he began the ceremony. Her small hands warm in his. Nick nudged him lightly on the arm, drawing a startled huh out of him.

"Vows John." Jerome chuckled. Performing weddings was one of his favourite duties as a pastor. Seeing the light of God's love envelope to people brought him joy in a world that frequently had so little of it.

John stammered a bit, trying to find the right words to say. How could he possibly make her understand how much he loved her.

"Esther..." He started. "I've never been happy. My whole life. I spent so much time searching for something, anything...but until I met you nothing in my life made me happy."

He squeezed her hands gently, brushing his thumbs across her skin.

"I didn't think I deserved to be happy or...loved."

His eyes met hers finding them wet with unshed tears. Sorry to have made her sad for even a moment.

"You changed that. You made me believe that I could be happy. You came along and just loved me. And I still don't understand how or why you do. But I promise that I'll do everything I can everyday to make you as happy as you've made me. That no matter what I will always choose you, and I'll love you till the day I die."

Nick handed him the tiny dainty gold band that was her wedding ring and John placed on her slim finger.

Jerome sniffed lightly and smiled at Esther, gesturing that it was her turn. She beamed up at John.

"John... I don't always know what to say like you do. I do know that life isn't perfect. And sometimes it'll be hard. But whether we have clear skies or stormy seas, or even the end of the world..." She chuckled softly. "As long as I'm with you everything will be alright. No matter what battles we might face, even if we can't win it'll always be worth it."

She reached up to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that had formed there.

"You will always be worth it. There's nothing you could ever say or do to make me stop loving you."

She put his matching wedding band on his finger, her gaze never leaving his.

Smiling as Esther bounced on her toes excitedly, Jerome pronounced them husband and wife. Laughing when in his joy John pulled her close to kiss her, not waiting for Jerome to finish the ceremony.

Standing along the tree line just out of sight of the small gathering, Joseph watched. He sneered, envy drowning out any joy he should've felt. He watched John pick up his bride and spin her, before resting his forehead against hers.

They looked so happy, so full of love. He wanted to share in their happiness but he couldn't help the bitterness that swelled up in his gut. John had spent the majority of his life reveling in sin. So he couldn't understand why God would see fit to allow him this simple joy. A beautiful wife, a loving family they would likely start.

Why would God take his family and let John find one in her. It seemed deeply unfair. He scowled one last time before walking away.

Just out of the corner of his eye Jerome saw Joseph leave unnoticed by anyone else. He wished he had joined them and wasn't sure why he didn't. It troubled him but he pushed it out of his mind. It was likely nothing to worry about. Today wasn't about Joseph. Today was about John and Esther.

When he looked at them they seemed to practically glow with an almost heavenly light.

It eased the concern that had been growing the last few years and for the first time since Eden's Gate had started to take hold Jerome had hope. Maybe his fears were baseless, that everything would be alright in the end.

That God was still listening and had answered his prayers.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s12e16 ladies drink free (w. meredith glynn)

s12e16 / hannibal s2e9 shiizakana

okay so it's kind of generic dead boy and girl in snow but the fur on her jacket and the positions and the grunty growling presumably werewolf just made me think hey it's a way less gory version of the hannibal scene

MICK My report to the home office ran long. We've had our hands full since... (Dean and Mick look down at a blood stain on the floor) Well, best not to dwell on that. DEAN Wow. That is some world-class repression. You are British. MICK We prefer to call it a stiff upper lip.

you're one to talk there, dean

SAM Wait a second. You killed them all? Even the ones that weren't hurting anyone? MICK Sorry? SAM I mean, werewolves aren't like most monsters. Some can control it. I mean, we – we have a buddy got bit. Nothing but beef hearts ever since. MICK And you trust him? Well, killing is a fundamental need for werewolves. And monsters don't just stop being monsters. DEAN Well, Garth did.

was wondering when this would come up

poor sammy. but dean's too excited for free and fancy shit. thanks for throwing us a bone, meredith

so old mick here lied about the girl being bitten, actual crisis of conscience or setup for having to kill her later to prove his point or...

(yay it's claire/kathryn keeper of my favorite hair on the show)

CLAIRE So, your foreign exchange student is totally lame. DEAN Yeah. He's Sam's best friend. (Sam sighs deeply) They're like nerd soul mates.

you jealous, dean-o

why is the moon literally being erased by cg, forgot to make the cloud?

secret third option, return to the hospital to kill her quietly before she's even turned. but he's sorry! oh how convenient she turned right as he was about to kill her so he had to fend off her attack

CLAIRE Sam, no offense, but who do you think the kids are gonna wanna talk to? Me, or some old skeezer?

skeezer lol

DEAN Yeah? I used to think the same thing. Well, here's a little tip. Things aren't just black and white out here.

took a minute but he came around

should have seen her getting bitten coming but i 100% didn't

SAM Mick, you killed a kid. We're not angry. We're done!

he gonna stick to that?

there's something about the way she said "unless i break out" that really worked. and the music was appropriate and far enough behind the dialogue it wasn't obtrusive

MICK The subject died in agony. Sorry. CLAIRE Yeah. Maybe second time's a charm. DEAN Hey, no, no. You don't get a vote in this. CLAIRE It's my life. I get all the votes. DEAN Sam, you wanna back me up here? SAM It's her life.

of all people, sam's gonna back her up on this topic 24/7

dean really in full-on protective dad mode this episode. i must have learned this little werewolf lore tidbit in fic and didn't realize because i honestly thought we already knew this sire business, or made some inference from the vampires 🥴

kathryn newton is so good as claire

they remembered to put the moon in a spot that vaguely looked like it was obscured by clouds, good job team

very special episode where mick learns things aren't black and white, after all

CLAIRE Right. Eat me, Teen Wolf.

lol tell him, claire!

BARTENDER It's not like I want to do this. My pack, we were happy. We didn't hurt anyone. And then hunters with weapons that I've never seen before, they show up and... take out 20 of us, just like that.

ha ha so bmol is to blame for it all because they went after the veggie wolves, i snorted. hammering us over the head with their point again

and the very special episode where claire learns again she's loved by her family and not in fact better off alone

always laugh this show makes blood draws happen in any old place, just slam a needle in, bing bang boom done

wish they'd leave her hair what i assume is her natural texture (wavy), whenever it's overly Done like this it doesn't really vibe with what she's usually got going on. was gonna bitch if dean didn't get a hug goodbye from her :p

really glad they didn't kill her off. feel like if this was in the early seasons, she would have died for the manpain of it all

[alitgblog]

"live" blogging s7, vol 1 (some analysis, some jokes lol)

first off, I totally forgot there were other casa amor girls so opening the app to see them on the banner I was like oooo

the S7 MC isn't too bad art wise, like it's definitely better than I thought with the preview, but

I do think the skinnier size MC is super skinny and the bigger one is not that much bigger, which is a little disappointing (always appreciate more size inclusion). ideally I think there would be one more size up i think but I do understand that means they'd have to fix all the clothes 3 times.

speaking of clothes they've always been bad at the beginning of the season since like s4 and this is no exception. I wish we got more options in the beginning and then the others they tack on later

the skin tones really are only three shades with each having one warmer variation, which is kind of nice to have people get that option in tone, but I do still wish there were more shades variation in between (and darker ones in general)

for absolutely no reason I have decided that my MC is also gonna be the S5 MC from my first playthrough getting a second chance after a second failed relationship with Suresh (let's just pretend she didn't win her season lol) and she's cute in this style (but again i wish we had the right skin tone for her). I guess if fusebox is backing out of bringing back Eddie then I'm bringing my MC

Her name is Junie and she's doing a lot better now mentally and has gained a little bit of healthy weight and finally loves herself now so fusebox better not make an embarrassment out of her again.

this actually works out pretty well bc usually the casa amor girls on the show arrive at the same time unless something is special about one of them who can show up separately like MC does here (ok fine I've only seen that happen in LI USA S5 and I guess s6 of the game)

Ep 1

Bonnie being an LI feels solely like penance for me thinking Iona was hot but sad she wasn't even a friend really let alone an LI in s3 so thank you but for narrative purposes I'm making Junie straight

Uma is gorgeous

also fusebox is not beating the reused assets allegations even those poses are just too eerily familiar

"I wanna try the slow burn" *has war flashbacks to the Ozzy route I never finished*

short king raf

ok Alex picking MC when Summer was flirting so hard is actually very funny to me

I understand bc it's a gem choice i didn't pick that we didn't get the last card but very funny that they were like we're just not gonna give Summer a chance at all actually

Let's goooo confirmed Joyo is Indonesian (I'm filipino so i was hoping filipino so I could draw him singing karaoke but I am here for any southeast Asian representation at all 🥳)

however I am upset with the use of "rizz" again. maybe once or twice but if they do it again I'm rioting

Alex nerding out is so cute. also who wouldn't want a bob the builder boyfriend for home improvement projects lol

am i too old to understand what normcore is?? like I barely understand e-girl aesthetic but there's more??

Bryson and his sister Jess have the most realistic sibling relationship from the last two seasons bc I also would mess with my brother's partners. and I once again am mourning the idea of a protective brother slow burn storyline in s6 instead of whatever Amelia was doing

"I won't bore you with the details" no pls do it I wanna know and I don't wanna pay the gems

all the guys have great personalities so far and idk if it's because I'm paying attention more this time or it's just better but oh no I'm falling for all of them

the drama set up with the guys and their partners is promising writing (namely the triangle with Geri, Bryson, and Joyo but maybe just because im torn between those two anyway) I'm shocked but cautious it's episode 1 lol

ep 2

early doors?

the gem party outfit is so 2013 disney channel, I actually will be taking the free outfit

wait why is it not night time for truth or dare why did they change clothes lol

joyo, get out of here with the graphic tee and blazer combo. Maybe this is why Bryson doesn't like you, and it'd be justified (tbf him being a bad dresser has been established already though)

oh God I didn't see his pants too jfc let him borrow some clothes

I'm into the frenemy relationship with Summer, like there's always a female villain in the game and they're almost always entertaining to me at the beginning (minus maybe Kat and Ivy)

I'm warming up to the all the guys like how can you pick

I'm starting to realize I personally have a problem because I always go, at least initially, for the chefs/foodies (Jake, Bobby, Camilo, Roberto) and I like Bryson rn and I think my MC would go for Bryson based on how I played her in s5 but I'm slowly inching over to Joyo and honestly i see the vision for Bobby clone I mean Raf and it is absolutely bc they've mentioned cooking

stop talking about feet pls not again

I expect this from Summer but Uma coming over to try to steal my man?? I appreciate her boldness though and at least she's not going behind anyone's back

ep 3

as someone who doesn't have the modded app and will not pay real money for gems, I feel very happy with choosing to eavesdrop on the guys' conversation. I feel like usually a lot of the gem scenes aren't worth it but this one is fun

Joyo does skincare but can't dress and Bryson is a fashion expert but makes fun of skincare. If they joined forces they'd be unstoppable, thank God they hate each other

hey what the fuck happened to cassius

so in summary im pleasantly surprised and hyped for this season at the moment. and lastly, pls don't drop the ball on stick or twist again please please pleaseeee

[shoshiwrites]

while spring is making promises outside — a flower shop AU featuring my OC Jo. Chapter 5/9. Some chapters a little NSFW.

Catch up on Chapters 1-4 at the link!

They start talking more, somehow. Probably has something to do with the  fact that he's on Jo's block more often than not now, if he's not fixing up a busted cabinet or doing one-off woodworking jobs or running arrangements out to clients. Either at the shop or the tattoo place a few doors down, talking to Angelo about getting some pieces fixed up or maybe even a new one. He doesn't really have the money for it if he's being responsible, but he didn't really have the money before, either. That's why he's only got a couple real good pieces, the ones he'd basically bartered for, and the rest are the stick-and-pokes of an unsupervised youth. 

The lights are always on, at Fran's.

He can always busy himself with whatever tasks are urgent that day, mostly heavy lifting that Jo says she'll do herself. He's the one on call the most now, since Bill's at home with Fran and the newest addition — a baby girl. Something inside Joe's heart hums at the thought. He's already at work on the gift, a little music box where you can see the mechanism under glass.

Today it's unpacking shipments for Easter, lilies and Easter cactus and hyacinth and azaleas. He doesn't care so much about the differences between flowers. It's nice to be surrounded by things that smell nice and look nice, especially the colors that usually crowd the store. But white lilies he hates. White lilies are funeral flowers, are the same church twice over, headstones and suits that are too big or too small, a flag-draped casket that makes your ribcage feel too big for your body. He swears he's seen Jo make a face at them too. He wants to ask her who it's for. 

It's Sunday, after closing, but they're here behind the scenes while Frankie does a big wedding consult downtown. 

Clara raises her voice from the front of the store. "You want a coffee, Joey?" Clara might be the only person who gets away with calling him Joey other than his Ma or Ann or Sarah. The reason for it is practical, but he still fights a wince. At least it's better than mister, which is what he'd gotten the first few weeks. The answer's yes now, more often than now, but bless her, she always asks.

"How come you never ask if I want a coffee?" Jo says, ignoring the half-drunk glass in front of her, the melted ice. They work shoulder to shoulder, like an assembly line, if you count all the interruptions about beverages or to switch the music or to argue about spring training prospects. 

"You know where the machine is."

Jo snorts.

"We have vanilla syrup if you want some, Joe. Oh! And I just made some almond too. Sort of an amaretto vibe."

His voice crackles with a laugh as he eyes Jo's face. "Vanilla sounds nice. Thank you, Clara."

"Don't mention it."

"You guys are so cute," Jo says flatly, clacking her gum on her back teeth, and he laughs. "You wanna run some practice questions?"

That's how they find themselves at a folding table in the back, Jo sketching a twine-tied bunch of herbs and greens and pale orange poppies, and Joe hunched over his exercise book. Jo can technically pass off what she's doing as work, since Frankie asked her to design some new promotional materials for the store. He looks up a little too long, at her eyes and the freckles scattered under her jaw, the press of her mouth.

"What?"

"Have you thought about what Evie and Angelo offered?" Evie won't stop talking about Jo's drawings whenever he walks in the place and neither does Pat or Angelo. How they'd love someone with that eye for detail to get into the business. Joe sees it himself, her careful sketches and the way she shades, the subtle colors. They want her to train with them. 

She moves her mouth around a little, but doesn't say anything. Probably the same face he'd given her when she'd softly suggested he call his ma after he'd been looking at business courses at the local community college. But he'd actually picked up the phone and done it. Maybe next week he'll try Ann and Sarah. Jimmy's still a wildcard, though. The guilt comes in waves. Joe bites at his tongue with his back teeth. 

"Listen, I know it's scary."

"Human skin, no big deal," she says. She doesn't look away from the bouquet. The tiny gold hoops in her ears glint under the bright lights. 

"Well, there is this thing called practice."

"Are you volunteering?"

Done with the last question on the page, he drops his pencil on the table. It starts to roll. He leans back in the metal folding chair, nearly tipping the back legs. "Call me scratch paper, baby."

She finally looks at him. "You're full of it."

"Yeah, probably."

She turns back to her paper.

"I'm heading out, Jo," Clara calls. 

"Have a good class!" The bell above the door chimes as Clara leaves.

Joe puts himself back upright, now acutely aware of the fact that they're the only two people in the store. "Listen sweetheart," he says. "You'd be good at this." The word sweetheart pulses like an exposed nerve. Fuck. Why did he say that? He can see her swallow. 

"I'll think about it."

She always says that, but he doesn't push. He doesn't have a right to, does he, with everything he knows about her and everything he doesn't. With the mess he calls his personal life. With Allie.

There hasn't been a sweetheart since the two of them had met at a rock show god knows how many years ago, back when he felt a swing in his stomach when she smiled, back when he thought she looked so cool and unbothered and he couldn't believe she was talking to him. 

Do you wanna go get a beer, he wants to say, and to his shock he realizes that he's actually said it. Even more shock when Jo says yes.

This is how they find themselves at some dive that's open, and somehow also has a patio. It's a little too cold to be out there but not terrible, as they huddle in their jackets with their drinks. 

Jo-with-a-beer isn't much different than Jo-with-coffee, he finds, at least at first. 

They stumble around what they can. He hears about Berlin, from her, for the first time. Very small pieces. He swears her eyes look a little watery, in the fading light, but when he blinks it's gone. There's a tension in him, watching her skirt around things that have clearly hurt her, but that she doesn't name. He tells her about his family, the parts he can, at least. The facts, or some of them. She smells so sharply of green, and the soft floral smell of her shampoo. 

This isn't a date, so he lets her pay her half. He walks her back to the shop, and gets in his car. He can't bring himself to call Jimmy so he texts, something that says nothing but still feels like too much. The air is like winter still, but the light... In his room he thinks about her, the way she must have looked there. Filling in the spaces of what she'd said about supplemental income, artists and modeling. The look on her face as she'd said it, something like regret. It feels wrong, the clench of his jaw here in his bed, the way his skin feels too tight. His hands fumble. He flips over on his stomach, hips begging artlessly for release.

[viiisenyas]

How many you want? Because I can send a million 😅 Feel free to pick just one haha

14. hugging with head on shoulder - for Artie and Val 💖

43. raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly - for Alessa and Alistair 💖

45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together - for Val and Hawke 💖

51. caressing the other’s cheek - for Giselle and Anders 💖

TOUCHES ASK GAME!

I'm going to put this one in my pocket because I want to do them all for you and I will tag you when I get to them 0u0 but for now I'll do Artie and Val (and omg pls send them all, I love writing cute stuff)

Arthur had arrived in Skyhold the day before his cousin's formal coronation as Inquisitor, and while he was glad to hear of his ascent from Champion of Kirkwall to leading the Inquisition, it didn't compare to how he felt when he learned that Valeriana was within the fortress.

He began to pace on the battlements, waiting for Varric to return with her, and with each minute that passed, his anxiety rose. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to her. After all, it had been over a decade since they'd last seen each other, and during that time, she never returned his letters after he sent his regards to her when he encountered Hawke and Anders in the Deep Roads.

Is she angry that I didn't come to find her? Maker, I hope she understands.

The Warden-Commander unconsciously traced the scar on his cheek before he heard footsteps drawing closer, and the familiar sound of her voice.

"Varric, you know I don't like it when you're secretive." She said.

"Oh, come on, Birdie. You love surprises." Varric chuckled.

"If your friend has a gift basket of sweetrolls, then I'll forgive it."

She sounds just as lovely as she did before.

Arthur's cheeks grew warm, and his heartbeat began to race. He let out a soft sigh before pushing his fingers through his raven hair, and he turned his head. Her large green eyes seemed more radiant in the sunlight and he offered a soft smile that quickly fell when he caught the sight of the brand on her forehead.

The grief he felt when he learned of her becoming Tranquil returned, and the Warden huffed, shaking his head.

Thank the Maker she's cured.

"A-Arthur?" Valeriana squeaked. She shifted her wide gaze towards Varric and Amell watched as her lips fell open.

"I'll let you two catch up." The dwarf smiled before turning on his heel to walk away.

"Maker, I thought I'd never see you again!" She exclaimed as she quickly approached him. She threw her arms around his waist, and he returned the gesture, feeling his heart flutter.

Then, a wave of melancholy overcame him as he realised that the tender moments they could have shared together were stolen by the Templars and the Blight. Amell held her tighter, and began to sway from side to side, afraid that if he let go of her, she would vanish.

"I'm so sorry, Val. I should have been there to protect you." He murmured, bringing his palm to the back of her head. He began to stroke her hair comfortingly as he listened to her sobbing against him. "I should have gone to Kirkwall sooner."

"It's not your fault, Arthur. I don't blame you." She sniffled.

"You... you're not angry at me?" The Warden pulled back a bit to look at her, and he furrowed his brow.

Valeriana shook her head, sniffling once more before she pressed her cheek just below his shoulder. "I was never angry at you, Arthur."

While he was relieved to hear that she held no grudge against him, the sadness that filled his heart increased.

"Then, why haven't you written back?" Arthur asked, tone softening.

"It's a long story," She confessed, letting go of him. She took a few paces back, and clutched her arm before casting her gaze downward. "If you'll accompany me to the garden, I'll tell you, but..." She sighed and he didn't miss the way she was frowning. "You'll want to sit down."

I'm not going to like this, am I?

Arthur paused for a moment, pondering the possibilities of what news she might give him before taking a breath. He offered her his hand, and smiled when she grasped it.

"Lead the way, love."

[our-inspire-verse]

More sad below

(Written earlier, posted when i got time) my art VV

Its just sorta sucky bc everyone apparently knew before i did. And it wasnt like it was denial, Cadance looked at me with so much pity and i had no reason to understand why "this tired is different" meant i would LOSe him. I didn't know that the "sometimes i got tired and need to rest for a few days haha! I'll be alright" didnt extend past his 50s. I had no idea to even fully comprehend that he wouldn't always be there. I wasn't stupid, I'd grown up around death and loss and change, but I'd spent 30 years being aggressively shown that people i loved dearest wouldn't leave me for anything in the universe, and would face death for me. I never paused to think too hard about it because i didn't know what i would do. And i was right. I didnt know. I froze.

I keep seeing the memory of realizing things were about to change. Me, Cadance and Danny were playing in the living room with pool noodles. It was just a random fucking day man. It was just, us being us. Stupid bullshit when my world was collapsing. Everything was about to be the worst it ever EVER would be for me. And i was laughing so hard i was lightheaded with Dan. We were slinging styrofoam at each other and i didnt even notice the phone ring. I didnt think too hard on seeing Alder's face, i thought, oh, work. He'll tell me when he hangs up:)

And the playing got softer from the other 2. I didnt understand that they were eavesdropping subtly. I didn't know they'd seen that phonecall enough to know why i should have stopped. It didnt matter, they told me eventually. It didn't matter because Alder pulled me aside, alone into his room.

He told me he had a very serious doctor appointment coming up, and he needed me to be there for it if i could. Of course, anything Bobby. I called him Bobby, because Aldi used to make him mad. Only playfully, he wouldn't really get that mad much, save for protecting me. He told me that this was going to be really hard, and he was sorry in advance for everything that was coming up. I got scared finally. I said whats wrong?

"They think they found something... In my head. They didn't... say that. But i can infer" he was choked up. "I can infer around the silence. The 'you need to make an appointment' instead of 'you're clear, sir.' I just. I need you to understand something very real is going on right now." I didnt understand, or i didnt want to. The fragility of humans i used to rub in Dan's face during fights was biting me and drawing out all of my blood. I didnt want to see it.

Alder was only 67. He was only 67 and he got like 35 years with me. That number repeated for the whole year since i first fronted and got labeled as host. Since the memories started coming in. 35. That stupid, terrible number. Sucks. That now, years and timelines and dimensions apart, souls changed over massive time periods, and im feeling the weight of the first night i slept on the idea that i could maybe possibly lose him soon. And soon I'll have to sleep in this life again, knowing alllll that new information about what happened between then and now.

[selfboredom]

DAWNS COMFORT

summary :⠀It was five AM and Emin couldn't get themself back to sleep. Neither could their friend akari, it seems who came for a visit during the silent hour. It was meant to be for research help, but turned into some desperately needed comforting for Emin.

content warnings :⠀none

fandom :⠀pokemon⠀( legends arceus )

word count :⠀1570

notes :⠀this is my first fan fic ever, actually. I hope y'all enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing it, although please tell me if I accidentally wrote anyone too out of character !⠀⠀and emin is a mostly non-verbal autistic, hence why they start out signing

        Emin stirred awake, peering through the cracked open blinds to the still-dark sky. They tiredly checked their arc phone to see the time. Five AM. They groaned and sat up on their futon. They couldn't prepare for a research excursion at this hour, but they also couldn't get back to sleep. Now they had a few hours to reflect.

Before they could begin their thought spiral, a quiet knock came from the front door. They rushed to attach their prosthetic leg and got up, stumbling their way to the door. Who else could be up this early? Captain Cyllene? they thought, opening up the door to the professor's assistant, Akari.

        "Hey, sorry if I woke you up. I need some help with my Pokédex." Akari said apologetically. Emin hummed and stepped aside, letting her inside before they shut the door. The pair sat down in the main room of Emin's tiny living quarters, and Akari pulled out her research notes.

        "I've been trying to do some research on Snorlax, but the only one I've found in the wild is that raging alpha. I know there's more up in the mountains, but the captain would never let us go up there. But I heard they've been appearing in those space-time distortions." She explained, showing them her unfinished notes.

        "So, do you have any notes on Snorlax? You're a much higher rank than me, so you could probably take on the distortions." She asked.

Emin nodded, grabbing their thick binder of research notes.

        "...And finished! I didn't know you had such detailed notes, Em. Those distortions must be way more common than I thought." Akari said, falling back onto the hardwood floor.

        "I'm observant." Emin signed, looking back out the window. Sunlight began to crack through the bottom slit of the blinds. It was still too early to prepare.

        "Say, you said you've been to other regions, right? Have you seen Snorlax in any of those places?" She asked, craning her neck up to look at them. They hummed and shut their eyes, thinking back to their time in Kanto before finally speaking up.

        "Yes, actually. Back in Kanto, there were wild Snorlax that would fall asleep in the middle of roads. Nothing would wake them up either, aside from a pokéflutes melody." They said quietly, drumming their fingers on the floor beside them.

        "Interesting. What was the Kanto region like? It must have been calmer if you're so casual about wild Snorlax there." She said, tilting her head as she sat up completely.

Emin tensed, drawing their lips into a thin line. Akari had been there for them since they'd first fallen into Hisui. And they spent more time with her than any of their other 'friends' beyond Kanto.

But she's just going to be gone like the rest once I'm finished with my business here...

It's not worth getting attached...

It's only going to make leaving worse...

They didn't even realize that Akari was still there as their thoughts spiraled. Until they felt a gentle squeeze on their hand.

        "Hey, hey, it's okay Emin, I'm here. Take a deep breath," She said, gently rubbing her thumb over their knuckles. They followed her instructions, grounding themselves before they spiraled too much further. They stayed silent as she wiped away their tears with her sleeve. Wait, when did I start crying?

        "I'm sorry, I didn't think that would trigger you. You don't have to tell me, I was just curious." She said quietly, keeping her hold on their hand.

        "No, it's fine. I just... Just..." They signed, trying to find the right words.

        "It's just. Stories from outside the region I'm in are very intimate for me. I can't share that with just anyone, you know?" They continued,

        "I'm already getting over-attached. I shouldn't be telling you and the others about the timeline-jumping stuff but I... I want to tell you about it. About Kanto, about all my adventures! But... I know that's going to get me more invested here. In you guys..." They signed, looking at the floor guilty as they continued.

        "And it's not like I don't want to be close with you, or the rest of the Galaxy Expedition Team. But I don't want to put myself through this again. I'll get attached, I'll care about you all and... and I'll have a family again..." They signed, rubbing their watering eyes before they finished,

        "Then I'll just go to bed one day and it will all be gone again... And if I ever come back to Hisui, no one will remember me... No one will care about me again..." They choked out. Too preoccupied with trying to rub the tears pouring out of their eyes to bother signing the rest. Akari stayed silent and hugged them, pulling them up against her.

Emin completely broke down, sobbing into her shoulder. Not bothering to cover their laboured and shaky breathing. She rubbed small circles into their back, doing her best to comfort them. She knew anything she tried saying would be empty platitudes, but it was worth a shot.

        "Look, Em, I won't lie and say I understand; because I don't. No one can. But I care about you, and I don't want to see you doing this to yourself. I know that you're going to fulfill whatever quest has been set for you here. And... You'll have to leave Hisui behind..." She said, her voice coming almost to a whisper as her sentence dropped off.

        "But, you being in my life has made it a lot brighter. Even if your time here is finite." She continued, feeling Emin shifting in her grip, sitting back to look at her.

        "It... It has?" They asked quietly, an expression of confusion on their face. “I… I always thought my presence was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. I’d go to a new region, stop the local evil team and be on my way.” They said, bitterness underlining their voice.

        "I couldn't control my Pikachu when you first fell here, Em. But you've taught me so much about catching pokémon. And getting over my fears while you’ve been here” Akari said, ”I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you.” She continued, holding their hands, gently rubbing their knuckles.

        "Funny you say that... I... don't think I'd be the same person either if I didn't meet other people. I didn't think being trans was possible for the longest time." They admitted, rubbing the back of their neck.

        “But when I met an actual trans guy, things just kind of... Clicked... And apparently, not all cis women get anxious over having boobs or a high-pitched voice. Who'd have thought.” They said, chuckling as their tears let up.

        “See? There's so much value in bonding with people, you shouldn't close them out on principle.” She said, smiling gently at Emin.

        “You’ve helped so many people just by being there for them. And that will stay with them forever, even when you move on. I know it will for me.” She said, hugging them close. They tightly gripped Akari, reciprocating the gesture.

        “Thanks, Akari. I… I needed to hear that.” They mumbled, a small but hopeful smile forming on their face. The pair stayed in that position, silently holding each other for a few peaceful minutes. Emin finally broke away, thinking over something.

I already put myself further out there with Akari more than anyone else... I guess there's not much of a point in being secretive anymore.

        "So... you wanted to know about Kanto?" They said, pulling their knees back to their chest. Akari's eyes lit up, but she tried her best to keep her enthusiasm contained.

        "Yeah! Well, if you're comfortable telling." She said, crossing her legs and looking at Emin intently.

        "Well..." They said,

        "...And that's how I became the Indigo League champion, at least until all this started," Emin said, finishing the retelling of their first adventure in Kanto. Akari was completely enthralled in their story of a region where pokémon were tame, even in the wild.

        "That's incredible! I wish I could see it myself, but it appears to be many centuries away from reaching that point in this timeline." She mused, eliciting a small hum from the other.

        "Yeah, maybe we can climb up Spear Pillar and throw ourselves back through the rift to modern times." They joked, getting a small laugh from her. Daylight had completely filtered into the room by now. The clock on their arc phone read seven-thirty AM.

        “I think the others are awake now, so we should get going. Thanks for coming over, Akari. I… Really needed some comfort. And it was nice telling you about Kanto.” Emin said, disappointment underlining their voice.

        “How about we go out to the Crimson Mirelands together? I finally got promoted, so I can go along with you.” Akari suggested, as she got up and stretched.

        “I’d like that. I’ll meet you at the entrance, alright?” They said, a smile tugging at their lips.

        “I’ll see ya there then, Em.” She said cheerfully as she made her exit, leaving Emin alone once again. They let out a sigh, turning to the chest on top of which their uniform was neatly folded up.

I’m gonna miss this when it’s all over… But Akari’s right,

I may as well make memories here before it’s gone.

thanks so much for reading ! reblogs and likes are extremely appreciated and I'd love to know what y'all think ^^