#I can only watch the potato war so many times

[dappervoided]

Docs vacation to Quesadilla Island!

So I watched Docm77 last Hermitcraft season 9 episode today and RAN to make this.

More so on the topic!

He needed to take a break and get his creative juices flowing? What's a better break (nightmare) than to come enjoy the island for a short while!

I've been spinning around the idea of Qsmp and Hermitcraft crossover since the start of Qsmp. There's so many ideas in my brain about this topic even though it'll never actually happen! I'm so sorry, but some things are bound to get out of my daydreams and materialize into doodles!

I think Doc would LOVE the eggs! Not to mention all the cute creatures they'd show him! He'd get attached instantly, they're too adorable!

I could only fit 3 here without making it too busy, but I wanna expand on what I could see the interactions being. Massive ramblings, often grammatically incorrect ahead:

Sunny - now we all know she's a material princess, they'd love Docs bedtime stories about the diamond pillar wars and his incredible contraptions made of diamond in the Perimeter and all the riches he had. Now Tubbo not only has Pierre to watch out for, but Doc also, cause Sunny would beg him to make stuff out of diamonds to show off!

Empanada - she'd clock in instantly that Doc is a German and would try speaking to him in German every moment she got. Now she has both her mom Niki and Doc to talk in her language to! It's not much of an expansion, but she appreciates it a lot! They'd have many delightful conversations and Doc is always happy to have her build little things together. They learn from each other!

Ramon - besides finally having another redstone genius with an entire Hivemind on the server, Ramon would be interested in how Doc works - both in a cyborg way and in the way he creates mind-blowing, game breaking contraptions. If they're not destroying the server together for fun, they're not making the most of their time! Jk, but it do be nice when both of them get to hang out and show each other what they discovered that's scuffed on the server.

Some eggs that aren't drawn:

Chayanne - finally! Another farmer came around! Chayanne would show off his impressive potato farm and cooking skills to Doc, who will always be amazed at the kids dedication! Doc can finally have his tomato farm in a Minecraft world now, since the mods allow it! It is too free for everyone to use

Tallulah - If she would show Doc the incredible builds she made and her and her papas place, he would be moved to tears! Everything is made with such love and incredible amounts of effort and thought! From her farm of all possible plants, to her garden and to El Cielo De Las Tortugas. Such incredible places to visit and appreciate! And Tallulahs amazing way of storytelling would only serve to amplify those feelings

Dapper - now besides trying cage trap Doc 1000x times, Dapper would definitely show off everything he got once he discovers that Doc is deeply amused and surprised by all the non vanilla things! They would invite Doc to their base to show everything and I mean EVERYTHING there is for show. It's definitely too much, but Doc is very impressed by her and would praise how much work she puts in! Dapper do be the definition of GRIND!

Leo - Leo and her dads made so many incredible builds, Doc would be amazed at how much they did in such a short time! Besides that Leo herself is an incredibly, theatrically even, good at body language and expression! He'd die of cuteness and laughter like all of us already do!

Pomme - we all know that Pomme has so many talents! From being a little musician, to an incredible warrior, to a thought out builder and a spectacularly emotional writer. There's a lot Doc will have to slowly discover about Pomme! And each time the scale and depths of things will get more and more impressive, because the share amounts of time and effort she puts into her creations, passions and loved ones is massive!

Pepito - this kid! Pepito is such an incredible character to be around! Pepito is so dedicated to whatever Pepito does, especially if it's with friends! Whenever Pepito has fun, it always radiates outwards in many different ways! You can't really help yourself but get charged up with energy when you're around. And Doc does just that!

Richarlyson- Richas is a lot in the best ways possible! But we all know he's very much a jokester, he wouldn't miss a beat trying to mess with the goat! And once he finds out what kinds of retaliations Docs is capable of? OH IT'S WAR (for fun, cause that's what it's all about!)

I'm sorry if this is chaotic at some parts or lacking in others, I have to write this all in one go before my battery dies. I haven't been able to watch many streams so I'm sorry if Im not up to date with the characters, but that is what I remember them as! Any corrections or lore updates are always welcome! I want to learn more, especially now that I can't watch!

Anyhow, now that I look back on that drawing why do I feel like I've done something terrible.... I've seen those designs before......

OH NO

#voidedart #qsmp #q!sunny #q!empanada #q!ramon #hermitcraft doc #docm77 #This is loooooooong #I hope I'm not the only one obsessed with QSMP x Hermitcraft #hermitcraft

[sapchat]

The Lord's Daughter

Cassian x Devlon!Reader

Synopsis: You’re Lord Devlon’s daughter, which definitely won’t cause any issues. Right? Fluff and Angst

Warnings: Devlon, misogyny :D, abuse, wing clipping, also you’re somewhat of a housewife because I read to many stories of people that end up with Cassian, Azriel or Rhys where they want to train and be strong. You can be strong and take care of a house, fuck that fighting shit. Also, I use female terminology, but you could read it as a more feminine male, FtM or even MtF if wanted.

Words: 7.6k

The High Lord was coming to the house for a meeting, and then dinner. Father stated they were to talk about the camp, what the High Lord wanted to change, to talk about the girls training. Father stated it was because ‘that bastard general of his’ has reported once again the girls aren’t training. The other lords of Windhaven have all agreed that the girls can train just after their chores.

The only issue with that is the males of camp have just been giving us more work. So where I used to have time to myself to read, or play piano, I spend most of my day now doing chores and helping the younger girls of camp.

I don’t mind it, truly, it helps them out to do what they want. Train. I just don’t have an interest, and it’s not because my Father believes a female’s place is the house, I just don’t enjoy it. I’ve spent enough time helping patch up the warriors in the infirmary to know I want nothing to do with it.

I’d rather be a ‘housewife’ likely to the High Lord’s displeasure.

It doesn’t help that the General has been pestering all the girls lately to see why none of them are training.

It doesn’t help he pestered me before about it. Just before Rhysand became the High Lord. That thought caused me to look to my father, who had been in the sitting room sipping his whiskey.

“Father, do you know how many will be attending the meeting and meal? So, I might be prepared?” I ask, and the look on his face either turned to anger because I interrupted his thought or because of who will attend.

“The bastard lord, and his two-bastard ilk will attend. Not sure about his whore cousin.” He answered and downed his glass. Yea the anger is from the guests.

I wiped my hands on the apron I wore and untied it to set to the side, “Is there anything you’d specifically want for the meal? I can head to the butcher’s tomorrow when he opens. And I believe that the Huxley’s just finished canning and harvesting some of their vegetables for the season, I can stop and see what they have.”

“Get something from a pig. Just what they need to remind them what they are. No better than anyone else. Just nicer versions of pigs.” He poured himself another glass. Three fingers full this time.

“Pig sounds good, it’s been a little while since I’ve made a pig roast. I get some beans and potatoes to mash with it if that sounds good father.” If I’m to roast an entire pig for dinner, then I’ll have to go to the butchers early. Hopefully Elias can help bring it to the spit for me.

Father just grunted in reply, I’ll have to see what good alcohol I can find on short notice to serve. Possibly a cheap wine for me in order to get through it all.

Father was to spend most of the day showing the High Lord, the General and the Shadowsinger how the troops were, and how the girls’ training were proceeding, whilst I prepped the house for dinner. Turns out a pig roast doesn’t take as long as one would think to cook.

So, I got to spend some of my morning and afternoon outside tending to it and watching the camp show what they’ve learned. What new techniques have been taught from the war, whilst some of the girls stood to the side doing simple maneuvers like breathing or stretching.

It was strangely beautiful seeing the males move how they did. Like it was a dance whilst they were paired off, a dance that turned bloody and violet sure, but a dance nonetheless.

I tried my best to ignore the eyes of the three guests but at some points it couldn’t be avoided, and I’d quickly look away and go back to peeling my potatoes. Like a game of camp and mouse, except each time I’d glance there’d be some type of questioning look in one of their eyes. The General’s.

Whilst one of the three would pop in for a visit to the camps occasionally, I was never around. I’d just hear my father’s complaints later. With the occasional slap if it was a real grueling day. They weren’t the worst punishment you’ve received from the man. By the time it gets to the point he wants to slap he’s had a few glasses full, and he doesn’t have much strength.  

Besides he wanted me to look beautiful so he could still possibly find me a husband. Being the camp lord’s daughter did have its benefits. A pick of husbands, not that I’d get to chose but, and less beatings than some of the other women. Because whilst father would have rather had sons, he only has me. And as cruel as he can be I can say he doesn’t hate me. Detest me for not having a cock, sure.

But I am still his child.

Cauldron, part of me thinks just a little he hates he clipped my wings. He’d done it properly, thankfully. Had the best healer tend to it, so I still have functions in my wings and no real pain. Many of the girls and females in camp can’t say that. I’ve tended to many of them after the fact of how mangled their fathers make them. How they can barley even function.

The High Lord has attempted to ban wing clipping, imposing harsh punishments on those who still do it. It hasn’t stopped many of the fathers from clipping in secret. Which has caused more injuries than needed. It doesn’t help many of the males of camp beat their wives and daughters.

No wonder some many of the fae hate us. No wonder the High Lord and his friends hate coming around. Maybe that’s what the meeting is about. More changes to make to the camp. I’m sure father will love that. Something I’ll have to listen to until the next demand the High Lord makes.

I’d been so busy peeling and cutting up potatoes I didn’t see the massive imposing figure next to me. Red siphons littering his body, stature casting a shadow over my body, wings just posed enough to not be aggressive but catching my attention.

“Why aren’t you training with the other girls?” It was the General, Cassian, who had walked up to question me. And I’m shocked to find him talking with me. I’m trying to remember when the last time it might’ve been, and the only time I can think of it was around the time of their Blood Rite at a bonfire.

The war came not long after that, and then once it ended, I started taking care of the house more. Learning how to be a good wife from my mother, learning from some of the healers how to care for wounds.

“I’m peeling potatoes…” It’s the most obvious thing that I’m doing. He can see the potato in my hand, the others that had been peeled, and the skins on the ground around me.

“The girls of camp are to train just everyone else. So… why aren’t you training yourself?” He asked again, as if it’s the strangest thing in the world to not want to train. To rather cook, clean and care for a home than fight and get bloody and bruised.

“Because I’m prepping for dinner. After the meeting with the High Lord.” It’s a simple answer, one anyone should be able to guess, especially the General.

“Lord Devlon has been instructed that all girls of training age, or those that wish to, train before doing chores.”

“I know the rule Lord Cassian,” He cringes lightly at the title, “My father tells the camp of the rules the High Lord has created and has been enforcing. Believe it or not, I am not of training age nor do I want to train. I am perfectly content doing what I have been.”

The General almost seemed shocked at what I said. And just as he went to add something else, someone called him back to the others. He looked at the voice, then back to me, as if he was going to ignore them. Continue to question me; but he left.

Once he left, I took the food inside, to finish cooking it. The Generals presence reminding me of that bonfire. What the night brought, what rare fun you got to have. Before many of you had responsibilities for the real world….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If your father finds out I allowed you to go out tonight he’d have both our heads.” My mother had stated glancing hesitantly at me from over the counter.

“Well, father is going to be in meetings with some of the camp lords, and other males of camp. Hence why this party is happening tonight.” I told her, the crunch of an apple piece ending my statement from the fruit she had given me for a snack.

“You’re not going to do anything… reckless are you? Nothing to…-“

I interrupted her, “Mother I’m not going to sleep with anyone. My pureness will be intact when I leave the house and will still be present when I come back. You’ll have no issue marrying me off. Even then, you and father are still able to have children.”

My mother had walked around the counter and pulled me into her chest, kissed my head and stated, “Why would I ever try to mess up perfection?” She had always said I was the best thing she made; no other child would be able to compare.

By the time I had gotten to the party it was in full swing, liquor and ale being passed around in cups, people sneaking off to the shadows to feel or hook up.

I had just planned on seeing some of my friends, only have maybe one or two drinks, I hadn’t expected the heir to the Night Court to be there. Which meant his two shadows would be around him too, both bastard low-born males, one who fought for his place in Windhaven and slid his way to the heir’s side. The other, the one everyone says was kissed by flame and shadow, who was dropped off here by his father’s guards as a favor to whoever his mother was. Just because the Lady of Night was a family friend.

The three of them weren’t much older than I, maybe by a few years, they were nearing the age and power to compete in the Blood Rite, where many Illyrian males aim for the age of 30 to compete. The name is self-explanatory, it’s a rite of passage where lots of blood happens.

I had spotted the long-hair male, I believe his name is Cassius or along the lines, standing by the fire passing a cup of ale to another female. Brushing through the crowds, I made my way over looking at the different drink options feeling hazel eyes looking at me.

Without even looking at the person staring I ask, “Going to give a suggestion or just keep starring?”

“I mean either works for me. Which allows me to stare longer?” Cassius… Cassiel… shit what is his name…

“Hmmm… giving a suggestion allows me to sip something as you stare.” I finally turn to look at him, and realize how much taller he is. He’s standing at least a head over me, if not two heads. Maybe a head and a small head.

“Ale is always a good choice. If you’d like something harder, a whiskey mixes or rum. Something sweet, I saw someone walk by with wine earlier so that’s somewhere… Cassian by the way.” CASSIAN! That’s his name.

“Y/N, and I’m okay with ale. My mixed drinks either varies by too strong and mainly the liquor or not enough and its basically just soda.” He nods his head and takes to pouring me a cup, getting no foam in it before handing it over.

“So, Windhaven native orrrr….?” He asks, and I can’t tell if he expects to end the night in my pants or not. If he actually just wants to get to know me.

“Native, my father is one of the lords sooo. Kinda have to follow the line. Only reason I got to come tonight was the meeting.”

“Yea, that was the main reason for this soiree. Helps that the High Lord is there taking the attention off of us to do it.” My eyes widened just a little, not realizing that the Lord of the Night Court was present.

“I didn’t realize he was coming to that meeting… how do you know that, figured it’d be a bit of a secret.” I watch as he points off to the side, following his direction I see how he knows, the heir, Rhysand is against a tree. Kissing another male with a female between them.

“He’s… committed?” I don’t even know how to describe it, and whilst it wouldn’t be me… I won’t judge others. That’s wrong.

“Oh,” the sharpest grin spreads on Cassian’s face, “He’s a very committed High Lord.”

“I’m sure the Night Court will be in… loving hands?” It’s a questionable laugh, one I hope doesn’t offend him or his friend.

“He will be, he’s got plans. Hopes to make Illyria a better place. But none of that, you’re drinking with one of the next Carynthian!” He’s proud of the statement, as if knowing he’s going to win no matter what.

“Oh, you’re competing this coming spring? Are… are all three of you doing it?” It’s a simple question, one because I know my father has already complained about them signing up together. It’s somewhat nice seeing others give him a headache rather than I.

“You can bet you’re sweet ass.” My eyebrows raise as I blink at what he exclaimed, “We all plan to complete it together. We started as one, we’ll end as one.”

“That’s… sweet. To many Illyrians die during it… To much blood shed just to come out on top just to come out with bragging rights.”

Cassian shrugs as if it isn’t too much of an issue. “Everyone in this camp is out for someone’s blood. The blood rite keeps everyone… sated. It’s a way to get rid of your enemy’s or people you hate without having to deal with a punishment from Lord Dickhead. Illyria is awful anyway with how everyone gets treated, if there weren’t challenges or the blood rite, we’d never be an army. Be to busy fighting each other.”

He's right but the name ‘Lord Dickhead’ throws me off… he’s not talking about…? “Lord Dickhead?”

The biggest grin ever splits across his face, and that’s how I know 1. He’s talking about my father and 2. He doesn’t know I’m his daughter. “Lord Dickhead, Lord Devlon. He’d answer to both I think.”

It had caused me to laugh, Windhaven is a big camp so not everyone realizes that my dad is one of the lords, let alone realize I’m his daughter. We talked more that night, but Cauldron knows I can’t remember. The ale was pretty strong, and I hadn’t drunk much before. But I do remember the night ended with a sloppy kiss.

We had moved to just the outskirts of the party, and he made a comment about going to be the best warrior the camp has seen. His goal was to be a general one day. And I had made a silly little comment about me being the fair maiden and him being the amazing knight.

He told me that the knight always gets a kiss before and after saving the maiden. So, he said he earned a kiss before the Blood Rite. So, I risked it. One of the only times I ever risked my status and the ire of my father.

I pressed my lips against his, hesitantly. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, tilting his head just slightly and pressed his lips against mine a rush of heat flowing through me. My brows furrowed just as he ran his tongue along my lip and in my confusion, I followed instinct and raised my hands to cup his face.

It had been a hot, hungry rushed kiss. My first kiss, something no other male got from then on. The war came after, among a thousand other things. But it always felt like a part of my soul was missing from then on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Present~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been so lost in my daydream I had finished the potatoes. The type of ‘blackout’ where you just rely on muscle memory and continue doing whatever you were and come back out after going “Oh I actually cooked those right and didn’t just imagine it right?”

I quickly started setting everything out on the table, laid out the glasses, with a pale of ice cubes if wanted and the slightly expensive whiskey I found set out as well.  

And just as I finished stirring the mashed-up potatoes, I heard my father lead the males in. In walked the High Lord, the Shadowsinger and Cassian. I walked into the doorway of the eating room, watching my father lead them in, the whiskey and glasses already on the table from earlier today.

My father nodded to me, seeing that everything was out for them already. He then turned to the others and nodding in my direction and three sets of eyes lay on me. Each holding different twinkles in their eyes. “I’m not sure if you all remember back from, you’re all’s youth, but this is my daughter. Y/N Devlon.”

The High Lord’s and Shadowsinger’s expressions stayed neutral, but Cassian’s eyes widened just a bit. Either from realizing that I would in fact know the rules because of me being his daughter. Or because he finally remembered who I was. 

Either way I bowed just enough to be respectful, “Hello. Dinner is ready, and I left the option of drink choices. I hope everything is to your guys’ liking.” The Shadowsinger’s gaze glanced over the table, likely trying to see if anything would be poisoned but his gaze stuck on the roasted pig sat out, glistening with juices.

As if realizing what caught the shadowsinger’s attention, the High Lord and Cassian’s attention moves to it as well. Cassian only really seemed to have an issue with it, his teeth clenched and fist slightly clenched.

The High Lord took it in stride however, “Devlon, I’m glad you remembered how much I loved a roasted pig. Did it come from the Collymore family? They still have their butcher shop don’t they?”

My father leaned over his seat, and poured himself a glass, “You are correct Rhysand, the Collymore’s still have their butcher shop, their son has helped take it over. Truly it was them to remember your love for pig. Too many of you boys I raised and sent off to remember it all.” There’s a little eye twitch in his eye at the dig. “Please sit. Let’s not let this meal go to waste.”

I helped pour glass for the males, asked if anything else was needed before being waved away by my father. Walking back into the kitchen for my own dinner, I felt eyes follow me.

My own meal was smaller, consisting of really only the sides, pork wasn’t my favorite choice of meal, especially when it came to having to look at the face of a pig while eating. I spent most of dinner trying to ignore the conversation happening one wall over.

Voices varying in differing heights as disagreements and agreements happened. Why they elected to have a meeting over a meal? I’m not to sure. Doesn’t seem like much eating is actually happening. And as the person who cooked the meal, it kind of upsets me that my work is going to waste.

I could see the little shadow join me in the kitchen as I ate. Giving me some company, granted I’m sure it’s reporting back. As soon as that thought happens, it shoots off and another replaces. At least I think it’s a different one.

I’d been so distracted by the noises from the other room and the little shadows I didn’t see the massive frame entering the kitchen from the back. I jumped a good foot when I heard him speak.

“Why didn’t you say you were Devlons’ daughter?” General Cassian.

“Pardon?” It comes out quickly, just with one breath as I stare at him. His wings flexing with a slight irritation to them.

“You know what I asked.”

“Are you talking about earlier today or when we first met?” It’s a good question. Simple enough that if he doesn’t remember then I don’t have to possibly deal with the fact we drunkenly kissed. Or I can let him have some panic for calling my father ‘Lord Dickhead’. Even if that shoe fits.

“That depends. When do you think we first met?” I just slightly narrow my eyes, then glance in the direction of the dining room and back. What’s his game? And how do I play?

I’ve grown up around these warriors. Whilst I’d rather stay at home, I can bite back. “’Lord Dickhead.”

A saccharine smirk grows across his face, a glistening white canine peaking out. “What would Devlon thing about his daughter kissing an Illyrian bastard?”

“He didn’t know. The only one who did was my mom. Maybe your friends. But I never said a thing. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That why you don’t train? Because he’s your father and he doesn’t allow you to?” He seems almost pissed as if it’s my father not letting me train.

I finally set my fork down with my plate and glare, “If I wished to train with everyone else. I would. It’s my choice whether I do or not. The High Lord doesn’t require me to train, he just states that the girls that wish to train, do. And I don’t want to.” My wings have started to flare just lightly, likely the only amount of dominance I’ll ever show.

He glances at my wings, eyes narrowing as if now realizing that my wings were clipped. A slight growl coursing through his chest. “So doesn’t allow you to train and clipped your wings. Wonder how Rhys would feel about him breaking both rules he’s imposed.”

I pull my wings back in close and tight to my back almost self-consciously before saying, “My wings are none of your business. It especially doesn’t concern the High Lord. What I do is not any of your business either. If I wanted to train, I would.”

“It matters if the Lord of this camp is breaking the laws that have been imposed by the High Lord. Rhysand has explained in great detail what the punishments are for wing clipping, and for not allowing the girls of camp to train.” I understand they want change. I do. But the punishments he’s talking about is either a beating or death. To “prove a point” they just kill them.

We’re in silence for a few minutes, him waiting for me to bite back likely. And when he seems to think I won’t, he turns to leave. To go back to his precious High Lord, but as he hits the doorway something makes me open my mouth, “They were clipped before I met you. Even before the bonfire.”

It makes him pause, but he continues back to the dining room.

It’s a week later until I see him again. I had been walking around the farmer market the camp has. And he seemed to be walking around buying some of the food, either for a quick lunch or just to support some of the families of Windhaven.

So, being the peace maker, I try to be, I go up to him, “Hi.” Simple, if he wants, he can ignore me, or he can engage.

“Y/N. How are you?” Okay so not an immediate ‘fuck off’ so that’s good.

“I’m doing great! How about you?”

“Good.” Okay so maybe he’s just being polite.

“…What brought you to the market today.” He just glanced at me, and it’s really making me rethink trying to be nice.

“Have you been over by the Monroe stall since being back at the camps? Cade and his wife Calliope run it now. I think he did the Blood Rite a couple years after you.”

He sighs, “What are you doing?” He just barley looks down at me, an emotion in his eye I can’t pinpoint.

I just shrug, “I don’t know, I figured you’d maybe like the company. I know you’re not the most popular in the camps all considering. Plus, that first time we met we were friends,” I look down at that, “At least I think we became friends. Even if it was just for that short time! I didn’t really see you after…. And I know the second time we met it was tense, but you were eating dinner with my father-“

He cuts me off, “Whilst you were eating the bare minimum in the kitchen. Alone.”

My eyebrows furrow just lightly, “I couldn’t really eat with you guys. You were discussing camp policies. Not really a place for me.”

“Because you’re a female?”

“No, because I don’t know anything about camp policies. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be there. It’d be like if I showed up for a war meeting. No reason for me to be there.” It makes sense in my head so I would think it makes sense in his.

“That’s your home. You prepared the meal; you welcomed us into the home. You should have sat at the table and ate.”

“Can I ask something General Cassian?” It’s something I want to know. But his face makes me smile just a little.

“You can just call me Cassian; but yes.” It’s almost a grumble with how he answers.

“Why does it bother you so much? How I decide to do things with my life?” He pauses in his step as if debating something. Either to answer or to tell me.

“That night. The… night of the ki- of the bonfire.” He rephrases his statement as if remembering we’re around others of camp. As if he realizes if anyone overhears, my virtue will be in question. My reputation in the camps, ruined. “I… I know we’re older. Now. But I thought I felt something… that night. Something deep in my soul. And then you were gone, the Blood Rite happened, then the war.

Just to find out you were under my nose the entire time. Did you know that Rhys didn’t know Devlon had a wife, let alone a child. One so close in age. Let alone one who’s wings had been clipped, doesn’t train with the other girls and females of camp.”

“He doesn’t have a wife anymore. My mother died not long after the war ended. And I told you the other night that my wings were already clipped the first time we met.” I sharply turn in front of him, “Also, I didn’t realize I had to inform you who I was when we met. I don’t usually walk up to people go ‘Hi my names Y/N, my father is Lord Devlon lets go make out!’ When we met, we were nobodies. You didn’t have a title, such an important role, so many responsibilities. So, I stayed out of the way. No matter what I might’ve felt that night.”

It's like a ripple is sent out. Something in the wind has changed. But all we can do is look at one another. Both breathing slightly heavily from what’s been shared.

Cassian looks away for just a second, nostrils flaring. “Is that why you didn’t come around? Because I’m a bastard? A fatherless motherless brute with no standing?”

I scoff at what he’s trying to imply, “Why would your parents matter to me? I didn’t come around because 1. How did I know you wished me to? You were sent to the Blood Rite the night after, then the war came, Rhysand became the High Lord and you left. 2. You forget that even though my father is Lord Devlon, I am a woman, a daughter to a brute that cares more for this camp than I. I have no standing which is something I’ve accepted.”

“So, I just assume I’m supposed to sit here and believe, that even when I was not a general, you would’ve had me? Would’ve let me court you?”

“YES!” I exclaimed, the few people still wondering around the market glancing in our direction. I hold my stuff a little tighter before glancing back at Cassian’s eyes, “Come on, follow me before we get into any more trouble.”

The winged male slowly followed behind, as if he were a child that had gotten in trouble. Luckily, father was to be with the ‘troops’ and wouldn’t be at home until late. So, we would be left in peace for a bit.

“Won’t Devlon get pissed your in here  unchaperoned with a male?” He’s almost hesitant in walking into the house, as if he’ll be run off for just walking in.

“Believe it or not, even though I’d rather stay in the house and raise kids than fight, I am allowed to make my own choices. Much to my father’s anger.” There’s just the smallest smile that graces his face, it lights up as he does.

“Is that why you don’t want to train? Because you would just rather keep house than be a warrior?” It’s as if he’s finally understanding me, finally realizing that everyone wants something different.

“I’m an only child, I always begged for siblings, always played with babydolls, or played house. My mother couldn’t have anymore kids, I never truly knew why I just know she couldn’t. Because of that, I spent most of my time playing ‘mom’ with different things and people. That’s all I wanted to be… Then my mother passed away after the war, that disease that passed through the camps, remember? The dreams of a sibling kind of… shattered, unless father remarries.

Then the High Lord became the High Lord, started changing the rules of the camps, trying to make change. Think what you want about my father, I know how he seems and gets viewed, but he’s always been like that distant in his own way. Cass, I wish I was one of the females of camp that wanted to train, he’d allow it if I truly wanted to, but I don’t. It’s not something I want for me, I want to be in the home taking care of people, raising kids if I get to have them. And if that’s not something you can accept… then I don’t know if there could be an… us.” I glance up towards him, and the most heartbroken look is on his face.

“I couldn’t care less if that’s what you truly want. I only cared because I thought you were being kept from what you wanted to do. I didn’t know you truly didn’t want to train, I thought you were being forced to keep house. That’s why I was pushing for it so much, that’s why I cared.” He still has the look on his face, as if I’ve killed his mate…. Wait….

“Earlier… you said something… about the night we… kissed. That you thought you felt something… What did you mean?” It’s like a white sheet has draped over him, his tan Illyrian skin lighting to an unhealthy look.

“It-it’s nothing. Just I don’t know Y/N we were drunk, but I just feel like-“ He’s twiddling with his fingers as I interrupt him. Something I never picture the general doing, the famed Prince of Bloodshed.

“It felt like something more? Something… in the making, or in the forming?” His hazel eyes make contact with mine, an almost knowing glint in them. Like he’s already thought that’s what it was, although there’s still a look of fear.

“I’m not sure if that’s what it is. The only experience I have with mates is Rhys’ parents’… and they weren’t… the best examples. I just know that night I felt something, and ever since then it felt like something’s been missing. Until we met again, and that feeling came back.” I chew on the corner of my lip, chewing on the skin some.

“So… are we mates?” That beautiful grin is back on his face, the color her lost coming back to the usual tan.

“I think we’re mates.”

Right as he says it, as if talking about it summoned it, that beautiful golden bridge is formed between us.

It’s been almost a week since the mating bond formed between us. Something that I’ve kept away from my father, which Cass has been in full support of. He has started to buy and give me courting gifts, which I can’t tell if my father noticed and is ignoring or not. Granted I did want to put feelers out at dinner tonight.

“Father?” I hope my tone isn’t as anxious as it sounds, but I fear it might be.

“What would you like Y/N?” He asks still reading the report he has in his right hand as he eats.

“Would....” How do I approach this? “Would it be okay if someone… started to court me?” This makes him pause mid-chew, and it’s then I start to wonder if maybe he is just slightly more male than I thought, than I saw.

“Is there a male in the camps courting you? Because if so, they should be coming to me for permission. Who is it?” Okay yeah maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up.

“I don’t think it’s actual courting, I just think someone has been giv-leaving gifts for me. Just little things that usually get seen as courting gifts. I just wanted your opinion on it father.” Simple, appeasing to his pride.

“I’m not sure which game you’re playing child, but if someone does wish to court you, then the proper way is through talking with me and allowing me to approve it. Are they a respectable male? The one leaving gifts.”

He doesn’t believe he’s respectable, but he’s more respectable than the males in camp. “What if they’re my mate? I know it’s rare, but if The Mother and Cauldron wished it, would you still accept them?”

My father stops chewing once again, as if getting tired of my questions during our usual meals. “You’ve been reading to many of those books again, haven’t you? They still need to speak with me if they wish to court you. Mating bond or not.” Okay so maybe he will accept Cassian then! “But if he is not a male of good standing, then it won’t be happening. I won’t have my child marrying some bastard, mating bond or not.” Shit.

“The books bring me joy father. Something to do once I’m done with my chores.” Entice my father with the sweet words for the females of his time, where we’re happy with doing chores. Which for me I am but still.

It wasn’t until hours later when I go meet Cass that I told him.

“How’d your father take it?” He asks, wrapping me up in his arms holding me close to him. The bond thumping along our chests, even unmated and it thrives with life.

“I chickened out… Don’t look at me like that! I asked how he’d feel if someone started courting me, and he said he wanted them to come to him to ask permission. So, I asked what if they were my mate. But he said if that was the case, even so rare it is, that he’d technically allow it, unless they weren’t in ‘good standing’.” Cass lightly pushes me slightly away from him to look at me.

“So, your father’s definitely not going to allow me to court you. My mate. I knew your father hated bastards but…” He sounds upset about the fact, which is understandable.

I look up and run a finger along the length of his nose, “You could always rescue me, be the amazing knight again and me being the maiden. Take me away to the Moonstone Palace safely tucked away.” He gets some kind of guilty look on his face at the mention of Moonstone Palace.

“Is that what you’d want? For me to take you away from your father, bring you back to my home with me?” he’s sincere in his question, and I know he’d do it in an instant.

“I wanted my father to approve. I wanted him to be okay with our relationship, with our eventual mating. To be happy for me that I was able to find a male that could care for me. Mates aren’t something that happened, let alone happen in these camps. But I’d never forgive him if he tried to keep me away from you.” And I wouldn’t. He’s my father and I’d do almost anything for him, like he’s done for me, but this is a chance at my happiness.

“I’ll see what I can do, speak with Rhys about seeing if there’s anything that can be done. If there’s a loophole.” He’s sweet and doesn’t even have to do what he plans to do. Really, he could just cut his losses and move on.

The issue was we were wrapped up in each other, we never even noticed the male watching from the shadows. So, when I awoke the next day, my bedroom door locked; I didn’t know what was to happen. Was even more shocked when I found my father in the corner of my room waiting.

“Are you fucking him?” It was all he said. Just like that my loving father was replaced with the male Lord of the camp.

“What?” No, seriously, what?

“Are you fucking that bastard?”

“Father what are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone, you know this.” Really, all me and Cass have done is kiss. Yet that little brush of question down the bond from him makes me wonder if it could be seen as more.

“It’s been reported to me that you have been seen sneaking out. Then meeting that bastard born foot solider. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you. Fucking. That Bastard.” He’s pissed, I’m pissed that someone’s followed me to him. Because this is going to fuck over whatever plans me and Cass made.

The anger on his face makes me pull on the bond and send just the smallest rush of panic down the bond. Hopefully letting him know that somethings wrong, that I might need assistance. “Father, I don’t know what someone claims to have seen but they are wrong. You know I would never do that, compromise us like that. You’ve raised me better than that.” He didn’t necessarily raise me at all, my mother did. He just kept us alive in terms of money.

“So, the male is lying to me and your telling the truth?”

“Father, you have nothing to fear. You know I am waiting for your approval and marriage. It would be unladylike of me to not have my maidenhead before being married.” It’s not a lie, I do still have my maidenhead, but I am kind of sneaking around with Cass.

Speaking of who, responds with my earlier tug, with one of his own, and a questioning feeling down the bond. I tug back almost instantly, sending back reassurance but still a little push of panic. Hopefully getting the point across I need him.

“If that is the case you won’t care for me to go get the male and question him again. See which of you are lying.” He knows something. Either there’s actual evidence of me and Cassian sneaking around, or someone is trying to screw me. I’m not happy about either.

I just shrug in response, “I just planned on cleaning up around the house today. So, I’ll be here if you wish to ask me anymore questions.” I smiled at him kindly.

I need to figure out a way to get out of camp.

My fathers’ eyes just narrow at me, before his lip curls and he leaves the room completely. Not locking the door behind him thankfully.

It was only two hours later I heard a knock on the back door; a sharp tug following after telling me who it was. Picture my surprise when I let Cass in and the High Lord and Shadowsinger follow in behind him.

I start to try and bow but before I can even attempt to Cass pulls me into a hug. “What’s going on?”

I push back lightly, “Someone saw us the other night. When we met and talked about leaving. Someone had followed. Father thinks we’ve…” I stop, and glance at the other two before finishing.

The High Lord leans against the wall, the Shadowsinger joining him, “So he thinks you’ve slept with him and thus are basically worthless in terms of any marriage deals.”

My face rushes to a heated tint, and Cassian growls in response, “Rhys.” It’s a simple command he makes. Don’t speak about my maidenhead so casually.

“Do you know who the male was that reported seeing you guys?” It’s the Shadowsinger that speaks now.

I shake my head, “No, he locked me in my room, waited for me to wake then basically came and interrogated me. Just said someone reported to him that they watched me ‘sneak out’ then followed me and saw me meet up with Cass.”

He shares glances with the Lord and Cass, before Cass asks, “How pissed is he?”

“Well, I can almost guarantee that when he comes back later after questioning that male again it won’t be a happy dinner.”

Cassian runs a quick hand down his face, and it makes me feel bad that I’m putting him through this stress. As if noticing my feelings, the High Lord speaks.

“Devlon would be pissed no matter what. The Cauldron themselves could be your mate and he’d be upset. It does slightly complicate things, but this is an easy issue to solve.”

“Rhys. Don’t insinuate my mate is an issue.”

“Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Az do you think you’d be able to intercept Devlon before he finds out to much information?” Cass asks, and before I can tell them it’s likely to late, he’s gone. Shadows hiding him away taking him… somewhere.

“Y/N, do you want to stay and see what happens or would you like to pack some stuff to leave?” The High Lord—Rhys, I guess is what I should call him now. Cass has told me enough about him I feel it’d be appropriate.

“Do you think it’s needed?” I don’t want to leave my home. It’s the home I was born and raised in, the home my mother lived and died in. The home I learned my purpose of life in.

Cassian answers instead, “Me and my brothers were talking. The three of us think it may be safer if you come with us. But… I’ll leave you with the option. The choice to see how your father reacts. We just think it’ll be safer if you come with us at the end of the day. We… we don’t know what Devlon will do once finding out we’re mates.”

I must look sad about that because Cass brings me closer, if possible, and his wings just slightly curl towards me. “He wouldn’t hurt me. He might be some type of monster but he’s still my father.”

Rhys answers for Cass, “It’s not that we think he’d intentionally hurt you, but he said it himself, he wouldn’t marry you to your mate if it wasn’t a… good match. But it wouldn’t be a happy life if you stayed. I know it’s a big ask, this is your home, all you’ve known. But I also know Cassian would be a lot happier if you were with him. Safe.”

Closing my eyes, I sigh because I know they’re right. I’d be happier in the long run with him. “I’ll go pack some things. Should I wait or just leave a note?” My voice is solemn.

Cassian and Rhys look at one another, but Cass answers, “I’d leave a note for now. We can always come back if you want to see if he’d like to make amends.”

And so, I do, I leave a simple note apologizing. Telling him that I was in fact still a maiden, even if he thinks I’m not. Tell him that Cass is my mate, and I couldn’t have a higher-ranking male as my husband. If he wishes to speak with me, he can send letters.

Other than that, I take my most prized possessions. Some of my mother’s jewelry, books, a few more odds and in’s I’ve collected in my few hundred years of living.

Then we left. So, I can be happy with my mate, and his family.

Author's Note:

This was going to be 5.6k words but last night I felt it needed just a little more angst because we all know Devlon would be pissed.

Like, comment, share/reblog.

dividers came from @firefly-graphics

DO NOT REPOST. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THIS TO BE POSTED TO ANY OTHER SITE.

#acotar #acomaf #acofas #acosf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x oc #acotar fanfic #acotar series #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar imagine #acotar fandom #acotar writing #cassian imagine #illyrians #illyrian #night court #reader insert #acotar headcanon

[redwinterroses]

Boatem, on any given day, was probably gonna be two things:

Obviously, the first was “chaotic.” That surprises no one, yeah? Raise your hand if you’re surprised that Boatem was chaotic. 

See? No hands. It's a thing that is known. You got your end crystals and tree wars and mountains going up over night and ravagers raining from the heavens… Boatem was the home-sweet-home of chaos. And it lived there very comfortably.

But the second trait that Boatem had, on every day that end in Y, wasn’t quite as obvious. 

It was "secretive."

Hah. Yeah, I see your quirked eyebrow of skepticism. Look buddy, I had a bird’s eye view of the whole thing and I can tell you this for sure: the only reason none of those morons got caught out in their big secrets was that they were all too busy being cartoonishly self-conscious to notice literally everyone else doing the same thing.

That thing being, specifically: pretending to be human.

Yeah. You heard me. Human. Pretending. As in: none of that lot are human in any way, shape, and only occasionally in form.

Take Mumbo for example. Dear old Mumbo Jumbo, my personal nemesis—and also the member of Boatem I got to see up close and personal the most.

Lucky me.

He somehow managed to hide it right under everyone else’s nose, which I can only chalk up to years of trusting friendship mixed with a hilarious lack of awareness. His shapeshifting abilities have never been more unstable than they were in Boatem—maybe it was the chaos bleeding through, or the way that world was a bit unstable even from the very beginning… Either way, he turned into a living potato right in front of all of them and they barely blinked. 

A potato.

Night after night I had to listen to him pacing around in his storage room, muttering to himself about how dangerous it was to be a shapeshifter living with a bunch of humans. How he was putting a lot at risk and what fibs he was going to tell to play it off as some sort of joke or prank. I started keeping a scratch tally of how many times he said “Oh dear. Oh dear."

I ran out of space about two weeks in.

But it’s not like any of his neighbors were going to notice anyway. “Living with a bunch of humans,” my big wishbone. 

Human. Hah. Right, like “human” Pearl—the alien who ducked her feathery antennae in her hair any time someone came around, who floated around her base like gravity was frickin' optional? Pearl, who nearly got caught with her antennae out every time someone ran past and jumped like a skittish rabbit enough to raise anyone’s suspicions… Except her clueless Boatem pals.

Or “human” Scar, who never even hides his vexy teeth when he grins, but somehow everyone acts like they don’t notice. Maybe he uses some sort of glamor on them—not like I’d know. Magic is ticklish territory for my type. All I know is that for someone who loudly proclaims to be human—a thing no human has ever actually had to do—he didn’t go to much effort to act like one. 

And then there’s that Impulse guy. I’m not sure what he is, but the one time he got close enough to peck he nearly roasted my tail feathers. Plus it seemed like all you had to do was say his name and he’d just… show up.

Downright creepy if you ask me. Not like no one ever does. Don't bother talkin' to the guy who has a view of everything for 18 chunks--no, just blame him for your dumb redstone door breaking.

Anyway. The one Mumbo seemed most desperate to hide his “secret” from was… that other one. I don’t even like to say his name, to be perfectly honest with you but I know you know who I’m talking about. The wing-appropriator. The merry prankster. The one who watches you with eyes so dark you never know where he’s looking. 

And people say I have beady black eyes.

I don’t even know why Mumbo bothered trying to hide it from Gr… from him. Or why he was trying to hide what he was from the rest of them. Or how they never noticed the extra pairs of wings that would sometimes flutter about, or how he always saw when people were trying to prank him—even if it looked like he was asleep. 

But I’ll admit it was hilarious watching them dance around each other like a couple of hens avoiding a creeper—except both of them were hens and they each thought the other was a creeper. 

Somehow—somehow—none of them ever noticed the others. Who needs camouflage when you've got friends this oblivious? Anyway, come on—we all know none of them would actually care if they revealed their precious secrets.

I kinda hope they never do, though. Five best friends, none of whom are human, all convinced that they're the only alien-vex-demon-shapeshifter-thing-nonhuman in the bunch?

That's a joke even this bird-brain can appreciate.

#it's 2:30 why am I posting this at such an ungodly hour #hermitcraft #boatem #hermitcraft s8 #redwinterwrites #the narrator is that chicken that plagued Mumbo's mountain #if you hadn't already realized lol #just feeling some boatem things tonight #and saw a story prompt that went #“Four roommates are extraterrestrials who... believes the other three are normal humans” #and I got inspired XD #also I just watched like 3 hours of RatsSMP and Oli's voice is in my head #so this chicken has the voice of Oli Oriansound and if you read it with his garbage rat voice it's even funnier lol #boatem village my beloved

[mhsdatgo]

I feel like a lot of people misunderstand me when I say I'm disappointed with the way Aegon was adapted.

Most of those who criticize me (and some Aegon stans who aren't apologists, because get some help seriously) throw every possible excuse there is in the book in order to rid Aegon of any kind of depth or potential for Season 2.

I've been told I can't stomach characters that are downright bad, I've been told I only cling to show!Aegon's only redeeming quality at the moment (namely, TGC) and make it THE reason why Aegon should be liked.

I really don't know why I gotta say this about myself as a preface in order to debunk that second "theory" but I can absolutely assure you that amongst all the people I've crushed on or fell in love with in all my years of life, only two of them were boys and one of them is my current boyfriend. So if anything my fuckable meter as moral compass doesn't work that well with men lmao. Thank you for admitting that this show is so bad that sometimes the only good quality about certain characters are the actors that play them, idk what to tell you.

And on not being able to handle wicked characters, really? I've got a whole blog shitting on HotD writers for a lot of reasons amongst which is the fact that they made Rhaenyra blander than unseasoned potatoes and you came to the conclusion that... I can't handle wicked characters?

I'd really have no problems with Aegon being adapted as the cruel piece of shit he is in the books. You know, the only source material. If we're talking Aegon individually, my only problem with the route they're taking is making it similar to Joffrey. We don't want Joffrey Targaryen, we want Aegon II. (And like it or not, he's so different from Joffrey it's not even funny) The only things these two kids have in common are dying from poison, having a mother who's a lady-turned-queen, having a grandfather who's hand of the king and being selfish pricks.

My problem lies with Rhaenyra. Everyone knows Aegon sucks ass, that was known even before Sara Hess came up with that caricature of cartoonish evilness and tried masking it as gray writing. It's wanting to make Rhaenyra any better that is ridiculous as fuck.

Rhaenyra was just as selfish, self-righteous and dumb as Aegon. Rhaenyra's motives were just as valid as Aegon. They are both sides of the same coin. That's the basics if you want to understand Fire and Blood. Something Sara, Ryan, Miguel and the entire team didn't understand in the slightest. If you want me to take a show about the Dance of the Dragons seriously, you want to make this SIMPLE concept clear as day, which really isn't that hard.

And I'm sorry, but the situation with Dyana, that poor thing, is always angering to watch. Despicable, yes. Unforgivable, yes. I agree. I like it when there are turns in the adaptation of a story as vague as Fire and Blood, but not when that change is made for no reason other than wanting to uplift a character who deserves anything but.

Furthermore, I beg your pardon a second time for wanting the least possible scenes of r*pe or implied r*pe on my screen. Maybe because it's triggering, not necessarily because the r*pist is played by my little meow meow, ever thought of that? If you want your audience to hate a character, put yourself at work. There are so many ways to do that. Taking the easy route (because it was an easy route, argue with the wall) because war crimes aren't enough to make people pounce at a character like rabid dogs is lazy and disrespectful to people who came to see a well developed show. First accept that there aren't saints in F&B, then you can start working.

#anti hotd #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black stans

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM REDLETTERMEDIA *  assorted lines from their youtube videos, adjust as necessary

jimmy fallon? the only thing he should host is a parasite.

is he some kind of secret asshole?

well, that was a success.

i may have gone a bit too far in a few places.

i'm a top. clearly.

you can get stabbed with a medieval sword!

it would suck to have to replace me.

look at this fucking shit!

three terrible things happened to us.

that's probably because of your face.

if i had that shirt... i would be so ashamed.

there's a lot going wrong there.

i think it's pretty obvious that the one thing a guy wants is sex.

he said he wanted to make us suffer.

how can i make real friends?

i know. it's unfortunate, but this is the way it has to be.

it's a fucking circle!

they're doing their best.

push the whopper button.

don't show weakness!

i'm never going outside again.

that's the strangest thing anyone's ever said to me.

oh fuck, that was my tooth.

fuck my life.

it can never be undone.

how embarrassing.

we've had success on a level that's not been seen.

it's stylistically designed to be that way.

oh my god, i want to punch this movie.

how can i get naked real fast?

we don't know what the fuck this is.

you ever put your hand in a bucket of muck?

people watch movies on their fucking phones now.

it's cool to say you're a nerd, but it's still not cool to be a nerd.

oh my god, what's wrong with your face?

baby jesus is an asshole.

it's ironic, because i have no manners!

true evil never dies. it is only reborn.

i can finally find out what happened in my early childhood.

let's see what's going to kill us slowly.

the nunchucks are actually gun-chucks.

what did you think of benedict cabbagepatch?

oh yeah, i fucking love star wars.

everything's a knife.

i was just thinking about beating somebody's head in with the back end of a rifle.

where's my check?

this is not staged. i want to reiterate that.

i hope she falls down the stairs.

you ain't all that and a bag of potato chips.

i'm not surprised. it is very phallic.

take that, patriarchy!

what i'm saying is that you don't run to a toilet to fart.

that was funny... wasn't it?

was that gunshots?

are you ready to salvage this evening?

you get away from me! i'm tired of your shit!

what is the fuck?

it's like opening a wonka bar.

how many times have i said that before?

you know more about this model than i do.

that's pretty mean of you to say.

give us something. give us something!

it's like poetry. it rhymes.

he has a fucking medieval sword!

no one remembers what's on this shelf.

this shirt is fucking awesome and you can't handle it.

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #rp prompt #rp starters #roleplay prompt #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #writing prompts #writing prompt #rp asks #askbox meme #roleplay inbox prompts #inbox prompt #rp inbox meme #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starter prompt #sentence starters #mcflymemes #redlettermedia #red letter media #another completely self indulgent meme #LKJSDHFSALK

[witchofthesouls]

So, imagine the TFP kids gang got hit by Ancient Cybertronian do-hickey over a sleepover and cyberform into sparklings (I will forever die on the Hill that cyberformed humans are some form of war-builds. You can’t take that me. At all.), and then combine it with memory regression/suppression and oh boy, oh boy, what a mess.

The kids are absolutely cute and 100% goddamn Feral.

When Optimus finally manages to decode the information in regards that the artifact’s power: a vague recollection of to revert/return what was lost he agreed with the team: Unicron’s bullscrap. 

Miko is a smoll Seeker sparkling with pretty amber optics, a worrisome amount of pink upon her thin frame, and has no idea who they are. She managed to squeeze behind the monitors and climb up the computer set up for high-ground. Has sharp teeth and equally sharp little claws. And yes, she had used both sets on an Autobot’s hands. Hissy little thing.

She mainly listens to Optimus ever since he managed to snatch her up by the scruff and growled back at her, he put some force into it with his engines in low-gear with his field pressing down, enough to overwhelm her for a beat. The team is yelling at him while Miko stares at him with wide optics and limp like a docile kitten.

Ratchet fusses over her since Seekerkin femmes are usually larger and bulkier than their mech counterparts, even as sparklings. Miko, however, is on the thinner side, especially since it looks like she’s missing plating. She’s not; her armature will be deceptively fragile, but very flexible. 

Everyone keeps a really good optic on her since that much pink on a mecha’s plating as their original color meant… issues. Ratchet keeps checking on her since her pain receptors are too scattered to stop her from really dangerous stunts. 

Mainly communicates likes a newspark. Squeaks and chirps. Very expressive wings. 

They thought Jack would be the “easy” one since he was once a Responsible Teenager, had actually retained a few memories about his life Before, and can actually communicate in English. They’re wrong. Dead. Wrong.

Local Metal Bird Boy can be found scurrying up the walls and hooking his newfound claws into crevices and digging because he found something behind the walls or beneath the rocks. 

Jack looks built to be an armored jet. At first glance. This bitlet seems to have hints of developing multiple forms. Ratchet had uncovered sets of wheels and had to disable some of his programs related to combat that are too close to the surface. He was worried that it may activate and there’s no need for a sparkling to run around with high-beam plasma.

Has a habit of sneaking up on others, especially on Optimus, Ratchet, and Arcee. It’s possible since Jack has impressive shielding and suppression abilities due to his advanced ventilation systems and military-grade silencers.

Likes watching the ‘bots sleep, the low hum of their frames with relaxed sparks is a soothing sound to him, especially with each ‘bot has a unique pattern and feel to their EM field. Many times, they had been startled awake to see grey-blue optics watching from above.

He’s ridiculously good at hide-and-seek.

Raf is the Baby. As in he’s a baby Predacon. Like the rolliest and roundest one. Absolute chonk of a pup. He’s a metal, yellow and orange potato that likes to be carted around like a football.

Refuses to budge out of his alt-mode for anything. Eats, sleeps, and plays as a small, metal dragon. Enjoys being tucked up on a chassis and having his neck scratched.

Blind as a bat. There’s film over his optics. It doesn’t seem to be newspark-thickness, but Ratchet has no idea and can only work with what he knows about sparkling care with the present frame-types. Predacons, however, had been extinct, but it shouldn’t be too different. Hopefully.

The Autobots can’t leave anything on the ground or Raf will attempt to stuff it in his mouth. With surprisingly, if varying, levels of success. Horrifies them that he can actually eat rocks and metal ore without getting sick. If left unattended, then he will try to nibble on live wires and will gnaw on weapons.

Very limited communication. Much like Miko, he barks, chirps, and squeaks. It’s a strange scene to watch Miko and Raf making a racket as Jack is quite still and nods or frowns with their conversation. Optimus can actually follow their proto-language quite well. Bumblebee was disappointed that none of them can understand his binary.

They collectively give thanks to whatever deity watching them that the kids’ have functional EM fields. It’s the most straight-forward, direct form of nonverbal communication. Raf and Miko are very expressful and demand to be heard. Jack, on the other hand, tends to be more quiet and subdued. More like an undercurrent that slips into their own without notice until he tugs them, burning with questioning/inquisitive and curiosity.

Miko and Jack are completely delighted when Raf figures out to puff out small bits of flame. And yes, they do bring Raf flammable things to play with. They tickle his softer underbelly to get him to snort and hiccup bits of fire. They like drawing on the walls and floors with their bits of charcoal and piles of ash. 

It seems to be a universal rule that younglings of any species can always find a way to get filthy in a short amount of time. Between Raf’s constant rolling and rummaging for rocks and Miko’s and Jack’s urges to climb all over the place, all three get dusty and crusty. Especially when they dig into the sand and dirt.

It becomes a daily duty to get those three clean. Raf has a dedicated, makeshift bowl of a bathtub where Jack and Miko can join the showers.

It’s a two-mecha job. One to focus on Raf and watch the doorway and floor. (Raf can and will attempt to eat the towels, cleansers, and buffing equipment.) One to scrub Jack and Miko’s backs, particular their developing flight systems, and coax Miko into drying off because she will refuse to leave the shower.

They get a kiddie pool in the middle of the base, well away from equipment, and it’s the greatest thing ever: Occupies the kids for long periods of time, especially with some toys.

Ratchet actually complimented Agent Fowler’s recommendation, and man had side-eyed the mech for the entire visit. 

Jack and Miko managed to lure in an injured cougar into the base. They hid it in the back, well away from everyone else, and tagged team on its caring and feeding schedule since Jack would tell any adult that they were playing hide-and-seek.

No one figured out what was wrong since Jack has a habit of suppressing his own EM field, and figured out how to mask Miko whenever they snuck out the base to hunt animals.

Bulkhead realized something was up when the kiddie pool was quite bloody one day when he was cleaning up a messy Raf that escaped the playpen. Again. The towels were stained red.  

The sheer amount of screaming and tears it caused when the Autobots relocated the cougar to a sanctuary. 

Optimus is truly a leader when he was able to withstand their sad, wilting wings, shiny and wet optics, and wails.

He does hold them in his lap as they pick out a wildlife sanctuary, and Ratchet hooks up the TV to view the public camera of the animals, so they could watch Nightstrike.

#transformers #Transformers Prime #tfp #optimus prime #optimus #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #Arcee #jack darby #miko nakadai #raf esquivel #humans into cybertronians #HUMANFORMERS #deaged #sparklings #bitlets #maccadam #My writing #tf headcanons #slight hints of feral sparkling optimus lol

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

INSIDE A BARN last month, a couple of hours after the rehearsal for the “Heart of the Matter” pageant, several dozen performers from around the world — paid puppeteers, interns, community volunteers — presented their proposed circus acts. Schumann typically reviews and critiques the sketches.

Most of the acts had a whimsical tone. A man imitating a bee (collapsing bee colonies the inspiration) did a frenetic waggle around a cardboard city that transformed itself into a tangle of dancing urbanites. An orca ambushed yachting billionaire puppets. When somber-looking tree figures appeared with a narrator reading facts about boreal forests versus the more flammable monoculture ones burning in nearby Canada, Schumann became agitated.

“It’s too cliché, something everyone already knows,” he shouted. “You have to stop using so many words and solve things puppetry-wise.” Then he jumped to his feet and started moving people and puppets around. He had puppeteers throw the trees and then dance with them, causing some confusion.

“It’s what you do, not what you say,” he said. “It’s puppetry, not preaching.”

He told them he would return in a half-hour to see a revision. Then, as dinnertime approached, he excused himself to help the kitchen staff make potato pancakes — a recipe from his war-torn childhood.

With admirable control, the puppeteers discussed how to rework their savaged piece, each giving the others time to suggest solutions. It was a utopian vision of collaboration, agile and practical — and typical of how the company functions.

“Peter has a strong directional voice,” said Ziggy Bird, 26, a company member who took notice of Schumann’s work in a theater history class at Temple University. “It’s never personal and some of the most beautiful moments come from frustration, which can be a kick in the pants.”

+

[from comments]

In 1970, Father Daniel Berrigan was on the FBI's 10 most wanted list for his anti-war activities which led to a conviction and then his failure to show up for prison. A major event supporting Berrigan, after he became a refugee, was held in Ithaca.

The FBI was there waiting. The question was whether Berrigan would appear and speak to the thousands in the audience.

I was a stage hand and watched Berrigan enter the stage, unrecognized as he wore a motorcycle helmet. He removed the helmet to cheers and gave a speech. The FBI probably figured that they would avoid a riot and grab him as he left the building.

But then, from the back of the huge arena (Barton Hall), came chanting, weird music and lights. It was The Bread and Puppet Theater to the rescue. The ten foot puppets moved about as weirdness took over. Berrigan was alone on the stage, when the giant puppets came on stage and swirled around him in a spiral. I think I was the only one who noticed, from my stage hand perspective, as Berrigan slipped inside one of the puppets as the swirl unwound itself and kept chanting as they left the arena.

It took the FBI another seven months to catch up to Father Berrigan and send him to prison. I believe that this was one of the greatest puppet shows in history.

Yet, this is a story that few know about. Berrigan really was on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted list. and The Bread and Puppet Theater squirrelled him away to safety.

#Bread and Puppet Theatre #theatre #Peter Schumann #puppets #puppetry #story #storytelling

[xwritingdixonx]

Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 7 |

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series masterlist

Summary: As a result of Daryl's actions, Eddie comes to your defense. Pete causes the divide of Alexandria.

Warnings: language, use of guns, blood, typical twd things

Word count: aprox. 3K

Tags: @bigbaldheadname @daryldixcnswife @alanamarie @suniloli @fuseburner

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Typically at this hour you would be wrapping up whatever duty it was you were performing for the day. But after today, your only desire was to be home and not have to put on the facade of being a brave leader. And deep down you knew your temper was too on edge right now to face anyone. Besides, you wanted to use up fresh harvest while you could before it was back to cans, jars, and dried things. So, you did what you loved, cooked. But right now even that was proving to send you to your ends.

Daryl still hadn’t shown after your “talk” in the garage, it worried you that he wouldn’t show at all. Especially once he finds out about the words you shared with Rick. Maybe he was too wrapped up with that stupid fucking bike to realize the time. It was an attempt to reassure yourself but it didn’t work.

Stupid fucking bike, stupid fucking Rick Grimes, stupid fuck-, a sharp inhale left your lips as you watched the knife slide through the tip of your finger and not the potato.

Stupid fucking you for keeping the knifes so sharp.

You tossed the knife out of frustration, turning to run your finger under water, washing the blood that was oozing down. You tried to calm yourself, gripping the edge of the sink with your free hand. The pain in your finger grew, now throbbing with sharp stings. The overwhelming frustration you had been bottling all day was spilling over as hot tears blurred your vision.

You just wanted to keep your family safe. You wanted the boys to be safe, you promised Lizzie they would be. You wanted your husband to stand loyally by your side, just like Tommy has done. You just wanted to cook dinner.

“Y/n?”

Celia and Nellie rushed to your aid, both pulling their attention to different things. “Let me see” Celia turned to water off, grabbing a towel to wrap your finger. “What’s wrong?” Nellie asked close by your side. As you were about to speak, Tommy and Henry joined the kitchen, had been coming home from their day. “Rick, he wants to take Alexandria.” A deep breath left your chest, relieving yourself of the stress you’d carried all day. “And two guns are missing from the armory and I-I don’t think Daryl’s siding with us.” A sob almost slipped but you attempted to calm yourself as you didn’t want to be an emotional mess in front of the eyes of this many.

Silence hung over the room for a mere second, the two brothers glanced at each other before Tommy proudly spoke, “We can take care of it.” Just as you knew, undoubtedly loyal. “I already talked to Rick.” Celia walked with you over to the dining table, telling Nellie to go grab her first aid kit. “I don’t want a fight or a-a war. I don't want what we had to do before. I just-“ “It ruins all of our plans Y/n” Henry interrupted, “I know.”

As you conversed and spilled everything you had known to be true of that matter, Nellie ran into her brother, sneaking in through the back door in another attempt to avoid you. “What are you doing?” Nellie asked, startling the man. “What are you doing?” Eddie shot back noticing the first aid kit in her arms, receiving a glare at his childish response. “Y/n” Was all she replied, Eddie could see the stress hinted on her face, “What’s going on?”

Though your last words to your brother had been in anger, that didn’t mean he cared any less for you. “Well,” Nellie waved the first aid kit in her hand, “She cut herself while cooking but," She was hesitant to continue, not knowing if you wanted Eddie informed. But now she felt cornered, knowing there was no way of avoiding it. "She said that Rick wants to take Alexandria, and at the moment, Daryl’s on his side or that's what she thinks.” Unintentionally Eddie’s head drew back, how dare he? was the first thought shooting through his mind.

Daryl and Eddie had gotten into countless fights, verbal and physical, in the time of their lifelong friendship. Whether that was fighting over games as children or whether that involved you and Daryl's relationship in the first place.

"Where are you going!?" Nellie whispered with a harsh voice watching her brother begin to slip his way back out the door. "Imma take care of it." Ignoring Nellie beckoning him to come back, begging him to not make it worse. But he slipped away with every intent to prove to everyone that he was just as loyal and trustworthy as the rest.

"Had a visit from someone earlier." Rick stood where sleeping bags and pillows were once piled in the common area. Carol sat with her hands crossed over her clothed khakied knee, Maggie sat on the couch, and Michonne leaned on the closest wall. Rick's hands rested on his hips, as usual when he stood like this, "Y/n knows bout' Pete, she follows Deanna, won't do anything about it." Michonne rolled her eyes, she had grown tired of Rick constantly nagging about Jessie and Pete. She understood his intentions were good but had noticed a line constantly being crossed.

"Knows bout' everything."

Maggie never agreed with Rick's "plan" in the first place. Over these past two weeks she had grown to genuinely enjoy your company, along with your family. After losing the last of her blood family, she just wanted peace with her husband, as did you.

“We’re not gonna let this stop anything, alright? We’re not gonna let anyone make us weak. We-“

“The hell you doin’ man?”

Daryl’s low and gruff voice disrupted Rick’s brewing speech. Daryl stood not far behind Rick, his hunter abilities giving him a silent entrance. His clothes were dirty from working on his bike, though that was quite typical of him, but his chest was slightly puffed from anger. Daryl allowed, what he felt, enough time to pass for your talk with Rick before he even thought about making his way over. But he didn’t know he’d walk into what he had now.

Daryl thought Rick had stopped, he thought once Rick knew his “brothers” family was here, he wouldn’t want to take Alexandria anymore. He could insult himself for being so blind to what had been going on right in front of him. Perhaps he had gotten weak, gotten just a little bit too comfortable in your embrace.

“Daryl, I was gonna talk to you alone, I-“

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

If there was one thing Daryl drew a very fine line with, it was you.

Rick’s chest heaved with a sigh, “She threatened to cut my head off.” Rick could almost laugh at the memory, was wasn’t humorous was the seriousness hidden behind your eyes. “Yeah?” Daryl changed his position to stand in front of the man. Maggie and Michonne exchanged a knowing glance, “And I’d let her.”

Though this had been a thought in Rick’s mind, it wasn’t playing out the way he intended. But how could he expect Daryl to react about proclamations being made about his beloved wife?

“I’m doing this for my family. For Judith, Carl. For our group, our family. You said it yourself Daryl, we all deserve a place like this after everything we went through. But we gotta make it stronger.”

Daryl shook his head, “Nah. You got yer family and I got mine.” With that Daryl left with a scoff and a slam of a door, leaving the room silent.

Daryl returned to Aaron’s, going to clean up the mess he’d left behind. As Daryl pulled the garage door closed, he heard heavy footsteps behind him. He turned expecting Rick but was roughly shoved back by his childhood best friend. “The hell you doin’?!” Daryl yelled, returning the harsh shove. “What do you mean the hell?” Eddie shot back, repositioning himself from his slight stumble back. “Why you shovin’ me?”

A couple Alexandrian’s walked by, shooting the men odd glances. By now, most people had learned to shake their heads and keep walking.

“I walked her down the aisle to you and you’re gonna betray her like this? Choosing some fake fucking family over her?” Eddie spat at Daryl who couldn't hide the utter bewilderment on his face.

“You don’t know what the hell yer talkin’ about!”

The two men looked like they did when they were boys, pushing and shoving, calling each other names, and throwing insults. Aaron came out from his home and stepped in, not wanting a brawl in the middle of his driveway. "Alright alright." Aaron coaxed, "Eddie go, please."

After Daryl sat with Aaron and took time to calm down, that's when he returned home to you. A pang of guilt burrowing in his chest.

When he slipped into the shared bedroom, you were lying on his side of the bed with your back to the door. No covers lay on your frame, showing Daryl that you had simply come to lie down but fallen asleep in the process. The length of your hair was in a loose braid, something Nellie must have done.

She had picked up this habit in moments of comfort or silence. She always loved playing with your hair or Cecilia's even when you were children. Her hair never quite reached your lengths and thickness, a constant reminder that she inherited your mother's thinner hair. Opposed to your father's dark rich curls.

Daryl glanced down at his attire, stained with dirt and his hands with grease. He did as he used to, showering before he came to you. When he returned from showering, you were no longer on his side of the bed. You laid on your side, once again with your back to him, now wearing your silky nightgown. It told Daryl exactly what you wanted it to tell him. You were upset and you weren't giving in so easily.

He slowly lay down beside you and wrapped his arm around your abdomen. You could feel the hesitation in his touch. He knew he had to try to talk to you, to explain himself but he didn't quite have the words. "M'sorry. I'm with you." That was all he could say. He didn't expect it to be enough for you, he didn't expect you to roll over and shower him in forgiving kisses.

You remained silent but brought one hand down to hold his hand in yours. It wasn't much but it was enough for him. "I love ya." Daryl planted a soft kiss on your shoulder before making himself comfortable.

The rest that engulfed the two of you wouldn't last very long. It was soon to be interrupted a few hours later when the streets of Alexandria were empty and the only thing lighting them was dying street lights and dimly lit porches.

You were awoken by Cecilia flinging your bedroom door open, herself wearing her own silky robe and pajamas. At first, you were so startled you didn't quite hear what she was saying, too focused on your heart beating rapidly. She repeated her words more urgently and that's when it clicked, "Jace and Luke!" That was all you needed to hear to jump out of bed, following her out of the house and through the streets.

Daryl was farther behind you, shouting something about putting something else on. You didn’t care for anything he had to say, though maybe he was right. Your nightgown was slightly sheer, showing every bit of your tattoos and scars.

A group had formed in front of the Anderson home, “Jace, Luke!” You shouted approaching the scene, Daryl close behind you. You rushed to the boy's aid noticing their once-perfect faces bruised and bloodied. “Oh god” You muttered, Jace’s cheek was swollen, along with his lip that was busted and freshly red with blood. “Show me.” You demanded from Luke, who held a cloth to his nose. His nose was bruised and bleeding, leaving streaks of dried and fresh blood streaming down his lips and chin.

Your eyes met Tommy's, the worry and anger burning into his features. “Who did this?!” You shouted, whipping yourself around to face the crowd. Your hair followed along with you, only the ends now still being held in the braid, long pieces falling along the frame of your face.

Cecilia examined the boys along with you, Cecilia telling Luke that his nose wasn’t broken. Your eyes landed on Carl, who stood to your right with Rick and Michonne. He didn’t have any visible damage besides his hair being tousled and clothes misplaced.

Ron stood with Pete and Jessie, looking as if he had taken a few hits himself.

The thought crossed your mind that the young boys simply had a brawl in the street. For what reason? You didn’t know but it wouldn’t come as a shock.

Henry and Eddie were already there with Tommy. Cecilia had woken them up first and they were out the door in an instant.

“What is going on here?!” Deanna rushed to the scene, Reg tying his robe as he followed behind her. Everyone stood in some sort of sleeping attire, having been woken up in the dead of night for this. Some Alexandrians in the surrounding homes stood on their porches or peered through cracked curtains.

"He hit Luke!" Jace pointed a finger at Pete.

“No I didn’t! That kids a fucking liar!”

“You’re a fucking liar!” Carl yelled back at Pete, defending his friend.

“Carl!” Rick.

“Dad!” Carl again.

Deanna took a step forward, "That's enough. Luke, what happened?" In an instant, all eyes were on him awaiting an explanation. Despite the anger that raged within you, you could see Luke cowering away behind you. You reached back and grasped onto his hand, holding his arm closely by your side. You took a deep breath, taking a moment to regain your composure. You felt Luke's hand shaking in yours, and you gently squeezed it in reassurance.

"Me, Jace, and Carl were walking home, and when we...walked by Pete was sitting on the porch. He started saying things to us and then got in my face so I said something back and then he hit me."

Luke took a pause, "And then Jace started yelling and Ron came outside and he and Jace started fighting and then Carl jumped in."

Luke's words were stuttered and frantic, his eyes darting between you and Tommy. "He was saying things about Y/n and Dad," Jace added, who stood protected behind Tommy. You shifted on your bare feet uncomfortably, your eyes adverting to the ground impulsively as you rubbed your thumb along Luke's hand.

You were unsure now if you were holding his hand to provide comfort for him or yourself.

Deanna let a deep sigh escape her lips and with a shake of her head, she simply said, "Everyone go home. Pete, we'll talk first thing tomorrow." Disbelief and anger could be felt bursting into the air, "W-what? My sons were attacked!" Tommy's voice boomed, "They were forced to defend themselves!"

Deanna stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm. "I understand, but I'm not going to let this escalate any further. We'll talk tomorrow and sort it out then when everyone is cooled off and the boys have been checked." She started to walk away, her steps heavy with weariness. She didn't get very far before an eruption of yells and insults we're being thrown into the air.

"Fucking whore." Pete insulted, intended for you.

"Please I'm sorry. He didn't mean it he's just drunk." Jessie pleaded, tears silently rolling down her cheeks.

"What'd ya say?" Daryl spat.

"Don't Daryl." You extended your free arm out, blocking him from making any advancements. You had heard every single insult and name that could be said about you....but Daryl hadn't. From the corner of your eye, you saw Rick's arm extend to the back of his belt. He felt your eyes on him, stopping his movement and locking eyes with you.

You glanced at the firearm that poked slightly out, then you glanced at Pete, and back to Rick. And you nodded.

The yelling continued, arguments spewing from both sides. No one stopped, not even when Deanna intervened, telling everyone to stop and calm down.

Jessie pleaded with Pete to stop.

Jace and Carl were going back and forth with Ron.

Tommy demanded justice for his sons, as did Rick.

"Enough!" In a second Pete had a gun raised aimlessly, almost out of instinct everyone took a step back. "Pete! Do not" Reg pleaded rushing to the man's side, pulling at his t-shirt. "Get off Reg!" As Pete shoved Reg away from him, the sound of the gun filled your ears. You grasped onto Luke, pushing him back behind you.

Reg fell to the ground in an instant grasping at the wound in his chest which spilled blood. Deanna rushed to his aid, cradling him in her arms and trying to stem the flow of blood. Cecilia dropped down to her knees beside Reg, doing what she could in an attempt to save him. But there was no doubt that nothing could be done. The group stood stunned and wide-eyed, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Tommy and Daryl had Pete down on the ground in an instant, kicking the gun away from his hands.

"This is how you want it to be, Deanna?"

Deanna's sad eyes looked up at you and then back down to Reg, her small hands cupping his face and holding him close. Pete's outburst was a sign that he was more than a drunk, more than a shitty husband. He was a threat. "Rick." Rick pulled the pistol from his waistband and waited for your command, "Do it."

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon series #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl x you #twd #daryl dixon #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead series #twd x reader

[minaramen]

Idol Star 2023 - Prince Stage: Torao Midou

[Disclaimer: I’m NOT a professional translator. I’m using my knowledge from 4 years of university. Please, feel free to let me know if you notice  mistranslation/typo/error of any kind]  

 

***

Haruka: Torao! O-ha-shi (*chopstick)

Torao: Enough with shiritori. My bad for losing

Haruka:

Haruka: Now you’re supposed to take me out for ice cream, like you promised

Torao: Alright. I’ll buy you as many ice creams as you want

Torao: However, attacking with “shi” is prohibited from now on

Torao: It’s frustrating to even type “shi” now

Haruka: That’s funny www It’s kinda of a trauma

Haruka: Okay, I’ll go with “su” next time

Haruka:

Torao: Stop it or I’ll be too frustrated to type any kana from the “sa” group anymore

Haruka: Admission of defeat www

Torao: Okashi*, Ohitashi*,   Inarizushi*…    (sweets, boiled vegetables, deep fried tofu with rice)

Haruka: Humph! Well, only Yotsuba can beat me

Haruka: Just kidding

Haruka: I’m stronger than Yotsuba! 😬

Torao: Are you really talking like that about yourself?

Haruka: So what?? It’s the story of our war!

Haruka:  By the way, I wanted to ask you about the wrap-up party! Can we do it at your place?

Torao: Yes, it’s the biggest after all

Torao: Shall I call the pastry chef again? 

Torao: You said you wanted to eat that crêpe again, didn’t you? 

Haruka: Ah, the one I could watch a real chef make right in front of me! It was super good! The dough was overflowing with butter, and the cream was also full-bodied!

Torao: You’re a real food reporter

Haruka: Well, a crêpe made by a chef is fine with me, of course… but let’s try to make it all together, instead!

Torao: With “all together”, you mean us making a crêpe?

Torao: I don’t think I have that thing

Torao: That thing you use to mix the fresh cream

Haruka: You mean a blender?

Haruka: It’s okay, we don’t need to mix it! We can just buy whipped cream and wring it out

Torao: Can we really do that with a cream that just needs to be wrung out?

Haruka: Yes! We can buy it at the supermarket. They have it at the conbini as well

Haruka: It doesn’t take that much time if we just have to bake the dough

Haruka: It will be fun, don’t you think? Choosing what kind of sauce we can use for baking! We can go for chocolate sauce, strawberry sauce, caramel sauce… whatever we like! You can also choose fruit sauce!

Torao: Can I…choose that?

Haruka: Yeah! It’ll be a Torao special crêpe 🐯

Torao: That’s going to be the number one special crêpe. I’ll get some fruit, then

Haruka: 

Haruka: Really?? Hooray! The melon you gave me last time was the best ever! Grandma loved it as well!

Torao: Give your grandmother my regards

Haruka: Okay, then each of us will bring something for the party. Minami can bring snacks and Touma drinks. 

Torao: I see

Torao: How about meat and potatoes? I mean, the one you shared with me before. It may be cliche, but it tasted like home

Haruka: Really?!

Haruka: The recipe was transmitted to me directly by Grandma! She will be happy!

Torao: Your grandmother is a first class chef

Haruka: Eheh, oh well… it gets more flavorful the second day, so maybe it’s better to make it the day before 

Torao: Do you eat the same thing for two days in a row?

Haruka: Of course! What else should you do when you cook big portions?

Haruka: The third day you can rearrange the meat and potatoes and make some curry! 

Torao: Understood. I’m gonna study

Haruka:

Haruka: Also! We’ll watch the rest of that foreign drama we left halfway the last time I came to your house. Be ready!

Torao: What?! You could have finished it even if you weren’t at my house

Haruka: You don’t understand 😐

Haruka: Isn’t it better to noisily watch that action stuff all together while eating snacks and having some drinks?

Torao: Well, I guess so

Torao: When the story’s atmosphere got tense ti was priceless to watch Touma gazing at the screen with his mouth open, while you were clinging to Minami’s arm

Haruka: What?! You can forget about that!! 

Haruka: If you keep on talking nonsense, I’ll get two ice creams!

Torao: I told you I’ll get you as many ice creams as you want. You’re the shiritori master

Haruka: Say it again😌

Torao: You’re the shiritori master, Haruka. I can’t wait for the wrap-up party

Haruka: Yes! Thanks, Torao!

The end

#zool #idolish7 #idolish7translation #torao midou #haruka isumi

[notyour-valentine]

The Boy in the Window 6 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: Talk of strike, Charlie's questions and a scare push (Y/N) further than she would have liked.

Notes: Well, well, well, welcome back! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the precious parts and your continued interest. We are about at the halfway point, so let's find out how New Year's Eve has changed Tommy and (Y/N)'s relationship- I hope you enjoy! 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. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 4766

Part 6

[Previously]

On New Year's Eve, a wall had come down. She hadn't heard the crash, nor had she felt the earth rumble, but in the light of the fading debris, it was hard to deny. It wasn't each and every wall they had built around themselves, not even close, but it was a wall that no longer existed. 

And (Y/N) Hale found that she was no longer afraid of Tommy Shelby. 

She no longer flinched when she saw his figure in the window or heard the way he knocked on the back door. She was still nervous around him, but it was a different kind of nervous. It still made her stomach flutter, but it no longer made her feel sick to her stomach and while her skin tingled, it didn't itch with the anxiety to remove herself from his reach. Not now, not when she knew just how gentle his touch could be. 

He sensed it too, that change, and seemed to prefer it infinitely to what they had before, because he came around. Not just occasionally, but more frequently, so frequently in fact that she now always set the table for him too, just in case.

Unless it was lunch, he was there more often than he wasn't. Sometimes he came earlier, whenever time would allow and then he'd sit and watch Charlie. Or sometimes he would come and join her in the kitchen. 

And so she found herself one afternoon sitting at her kitchen desk, cutting up carrots right next to Tommy Shelby himself, who was making sure the potato water didn’t boil over, leaning against the counter with a cigarette between his lips, listening to the distant chatter of children playing in the living room. 

She soon realised that, even now, there were several different versions of Tommy Shelby, and one in particular only showed his face when the children were in bed, when the fire filled the living room with warmth and when she seemed to be the last living soul in Small Heath who had not been claimed by slumber. 

He seemed younger then, and more vulnerable than she would have thought possible. Perhaps, by now, his body remembered, even if his mind did not. 

Sometimes he would talk, mostly of old times before the war, and sometimes, though a lot rarer, even about what was happening now. Some nights he would just stare into the fireplace, and she would watch him- the sharpness of his jaw, the thick outline of his lips, those bright eyes with that bottomless darkness in them, but also light too, which he kept locked away from the world. 

Of course, it wasn't always like this. Many evenings, he was away too late for her to be awake for his return even if she had wanted to. Some times he'd run in and out with nothing but a few words.

But overall, the greatest beneficiary from that wall coming down was Charlie, whose little face lit up every time he saw his father sitting at the kitchen table or gracing the sofa. 

Even Emma had gotten used to him, and maybe even grew to like this curiosity of a man because he took his time to answer all her questions, which were many and more. 

Today, they were all sitting down for dinner, the four of them, her across from Tommy and the children across from each other.

It was too early for Tommy to eat, but (Y/N) had always eaten with Emma so she ate with them now, while he sat on his chair next to the window, a cigarette between his lips and the rolled up newspaper next to his empty plate.

(Y/N) had already seen Emma throw glances at it several times before she finally reached over and picked it up with a frown. 

Putting it down in front of her, she braced her hands on the table and glared at it in the way some wartime minister would study battle plans. 

"What's this when it's finished?", (Y/N) wanted to know after a while. 

Slowly Emma took her finger and began to trace one of the larger letters. 

"That's an S.", She announced a triumphant grin on her face.  

"How do you know?", Charlie wanted to know, leaning closer at once.

"Because it looks like a snake. See. Sssssnake is S."

She traced it once more.

"Here, look.", Tommy said, taking off his golden signet ring and handing it to his son. 

"Another S."

"S.", Charlie repeated, his fingers brushing over the engraving. 

"Why do you have an S on your ring, Dad?", He asked as he twisted it between his fingers. 

"For Shelby."

"But Sh doesn't sound like s!", Emma argued at once. 

"If you take an S and add a h it's sh.", He explained as he took the ring back from Charlie. 

“Not S-eitsch?” 

“No, Sh.”

Emma huffed in disapproval, but it didn’t last long. 

"Is that sh too?", She asked and pointed at the headline of the newspaper. 

"No, that's a t.", He said. "S-t-rike."

"Strike.", She repeated, diligently analysing the dark marks, while mumbling under her breath. 

"S t."

"What strike? Like a lightning strike?", She asked, settling back down on her chair and picking up her fork.

"No. It's a worker's strike.", (Y/N) said and then looked to the household expert on these matters, not knowing how to explain it to the children. 

With a sigh, he leaned back. 

"Imagine you're the captain of the boat."

"A boat of pirates?", Charlie asked.

His father nodded. 

"That way you are the boss. And you decide how much everyone gets from the treasure. But you're not alone on the boat. You've got the other pirates who help with the oars and the sail because it takes more than one man to sail one, yes?"

Both children nodded. 

"Now imagine you're out at sea and one day all the other pirates aren't working the oars or raising the sail. They're just sitting on deck and doing nothing."

"Why would they do that?", Emma asked. 

"Because they want more money and because they think that the Captain can't sail the ship without them. So they tell him that they will only keep sailing the ship if he gives them three more gold coins each. And because the captain can't sail the ship alone, they think he has to agree."

"Or they'll throw him overboard.", Emma laughed. 

Tommy Shelby choked on his drink, coughing violently as his eyes turned teary- staring at Emma with a mixture of shock and disbelief.  

(Y/N) couldn't help the snort of amusement. She quickly raised her napkin up and covered her mouth to hide her grin, but the fabric did nothing to stop the sound of her giggle, even though she tried anything in her power to hide it in a cough of her own before biting down on the inside of her lip.

From across the kitchen table, he shook his head slowly. And yet there was a hint of a smile on his lips. 

"Unbelievable.", He muttered, drawing out the words. "Not only the factory workers and me family, now you're up against me too, eh?"

(Y/N) felt her cheeks burn but not in a bad way, not only at least.

"You started it.", She reminded him, still unable to stop her grin. 

"What's so funny?", Charlie demanded to know, looking from her to his father and back. 

"(Y/N)'s being naughty.", Tommy told his son, clicking his tongue as if he was scolding her. “Tsk tsk tsk.”

Charlie's wide-eyed surprise was met by Emma's breathless delight. 

"Mummy!", She exclaimed, finding it even more hilarious when she couldn't hide the heat that rose to her head. 

"Mummy, he said you were naughty!" 

"I don't know what he's talking about.", She insisted. "After all, he brought up the boat comparison."

She quickly took a sip of water to have something to do with her face except just feeling it burn with a flush.

"Did I now?", He wanted to know, leaning back. 

"Of course.", She argued. 

"What would you have said?"

It was a challenge, she knew and so she turned to the children. 

"You know, when people want to make things better for them and others, it's always best if they work together. Then, they can come up with a good plan and other people are more likely to listen to them. So when people aren't happy with something they have to do, they go together in a group to tell the person doing it to them that they will go on strike until they change things and because a group is always stronger than just one person, it works."

"Sometimes.", Tommy muttered. 

It was another challenge, she knew, but not one voiced at her. 

In a way, Jessie Eden had chosen the worst time for her activity, with all the Shelbys here, on edge and with a lot of time on their hands. 

She could only hope there wouldn't be any actual throwing overboard happening. 

"I'm going on strike.", Emma announced after having thought on it for a while. "and Charlie to."

"I am?", Charlie asked, as surprised as the adults were. But Emma nodded with the age-old certainty of a priest and the righteousness of a revolutionary. 

"We're going on strike. We're no longer eating our vegetables until we get chocolate pudding every night."

Charlie decided to assess her reaction before either joining in or voicing his protest, glancing at her suspiciously. But it was Tommy that spoke. 

"That's not how it works, Emma.", He said. "Out of all of us here, your Mum's the only one that can go on strike."

"Why?", She demanded to know. 

"Well,", Tommy said, leaning back in his chair. "Imagine one morning your Mum decided just to stay in bed. She won't wake you up. She won't warm your clothes in front of the oven and she won't help you get dressed. You won't get your warm milk and who will make you breakfast? And lunch? Or dinner? Who'll buy all the food and make sure your home is nice and clean?"

(Y/N) bit the inside of her lip as she stared down at her plate. 

"No food, no warm milk, no cuddles, no hugs, no songs."

"Not even good night songs?", Charlie asked, his jaw dropping. 

Tommy nodded. 

"So you better be good, or your Mum might decide to strike.", He told Emma, who frowned. 

Then her face lit up with a wide smile and she pushed her chair back. 

In a split second she had climbed into her lap, both legs dangling on either side of hers as she smothered herself into (Y/N)'s chest who barely had time to put her fork down.

"But she's not going to go on strike.", She announced as one arm snaked up to caress the side of her face. 

"You sure about that?", Tommy asked. 

She nodded eagerly. "Cause she's my Mummy. And she loves me. And she won't ever stop being my Mummy. So she'll always give me all the hugs and all the kisses I want!"

To prove her point she pulled (Y/N)'s face down to kiss her and get a kiss of her own. 

"Right you are, Love.", She said, stroking over the top of her head. 

Then she sat her down onto her two feet again. 

"Now no more talk of striking while you still have some vegetables to eat."

She rolled her eyes, but (Y/N) noticed that she ate them all and without protest.

She was also particularly good and easy during bedtime, unlike Charlie, who slouched and lingered. 

“Come on, Charlie, time for bed.”, she called from Emma’s room. 

When he didn’t come, she went to search for him. 

She found him sitting on the first steps of the stairs, already in his pyjamas. 

“Did you say good night to your Dad?”, she asked. 

He didn’t respond, his head leaning against the bannister.

“Charlie?”, she asked suspiciously, dropping Emma’s and his dirty clothes in the basket before she turned to him.

“What’s wrong?”

She crouched down next to him and stroked the side of his face. 

Without looking at her, he shook his head. 

“Charlie?”, she asked again, feeling his forehead to make sure he had the temperature. But there was nothing. 

“Is it true what Emma said…at dinner?”, he asked softly, leaning his head against the bannister. “That you won’t ever stop being her mummy because you love her? That’s why you do all the things you do…”

“Yes.”, she confirmed, as she sat down on the step next to him. 

“My mum doesn’t do these things.”, he whispered. “She can’t 'cause she’s dead. So she can’t love me.”

(Y/N) felt her heart drop.

And for a moment she felt lost - as if she had been pulled underwater, ripped downstream by a currant stronger than the power in her arms and legs. And she had nothing left to hold on to.

But she knew what he wanted. He was reaching out into the emptiness and the only thing he could possibly hold onto was her, so she had to make sure he could. And that she was steadfast enough to provide the comfort he sought. 

So she took a deep breath to gather herself before answering.

“Just because your mum is in heaven, does not mean she doesn’t love you anymore.”

He only huffed, clearly not believing her.

“You know, Emma’s dad is in heaven too.”, she told him, using that storyteller voice of hers she knew he liked. “He’s all the way in heaven and he still loves her from up there.”

She took her sigh of relief too soon, as Charlie’s head snapped around to look at her. 

“But Dad doesn’t think God’s real. And if God’s not real he can’t take people up to heaven and so my mum’s not there!”, he insisted. 

This is so far above my weight class, (Y/N) thought, but she was in the ring now, and so it was too late for her to chicken out. 

For his sake more than her own. He was still too young to lose faith. 

She smoothed the skirts of her dress down and patted her knees. 

At once, had scrambled onto her lap, burying his head in the crook of her neck as his hands coiled into the fabric of her dress, a tell-tale sign of a desperate need for security. 

She leaned her head against his and allowed her arms to wrap around him, gently rocking him. 

“Darling,”, she began slowly, “I don’t think your Dad doesn’t believe God is real. I just think that maybe your Dad doesn’t like him very much.”

That was a lie. 

She was rather certain that Tommy Shelby didn’t believe in God at all, but it was a lie, she hoped, she’d be forgiven for. It wasn’t a lie to hurt after all, but one to cause comfort. 

“Why not?”, Charlie whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. 

Because he had seen war. He had seen death and slaughter without mercy. Because if there was a God he was either not all powerful, or not all knowing or he simply did not care enough to save them. But those questions were difficult, and not hers to answer. It was easier to just believe. Even if it was the cowardly thing to do.

Of course she could not say that to Charlie so instead she stroked the back of his head. 

“Because God could have been kinder to your father.”

Him and many others. 

“Does God mind that Dad doesn’t like him?”, Charlie wanted to know, his fingers stroking down her sides, along the pattern in the fabric. 

“No.”

“Why?”

She smiled softly as she held him tighter. 

“Do you remember that in church we sometimes call God Father?”, she asked. 

He nodded. 

“That’s because he is. In a way, God’s a Dad.”, she said. “He loves you and everyone else, even if you are angry at him, or even if he is a bit angry at you. Even if you’re hurting, frightened or upset.”

Leaning her chin on the top of his head she allowed herself to close her eyes. 

Her interpretation of faith wouldn’t fly with the church, but who were those men in long robes to have more authority to speak on God than she did? She doubted they even knew any more about God than she did, spending their days looking into those Bible texts all day long. Didn’t the Bible say to appreciate and protect his work in the real world, and not just in holy places? (Y/N) was fairly sure she knew a lot more about the real world than they ever would. 

And so she felt no guilt, as she continued. 

“Even if you don’t believe in him. He will still love you and take care of you. Cause that’s what Dads do.”

“And mums.”, Charlie added, looking up at her. 

“And mums.”

He tightened his grip on her and gave her a squeeze as if he feared she could slip away. She let him, and she held him until he was ready to let go, before taking him up to Emma’s room. By now, there were two children’s beds here - both new and both brought in by Tommy a few nights ago so that they no longer had to share.

She read and she sang and then she kissed them good night and tucked them in. 

~

It was no longer a surprise to find Tommy Shelby awaiting her with expecting eyes, leaning back on her sofa, whisky in hand. 

She offered him a small smile, but he only stared. 

"Do you believe that?", He asked. 

"Pardon?"

"What you told Charlie."

"Oh.", She whispered as her blood ran cold. "I…I didn't know you heard. I'm sorry."

It wasn't her place to speak on these things to another person’s child but at the same time, Charlie had asked. And she had to tell him something. 

"Do you believe what you said?", He asked once more. 

A slight frown appeared on her forehead. 

"I think so.", She admitted. 

He took another sip of whisky and shook his head. 

"Why? Your father wasn't much better than mine and I like him a lot more now that he's dead."

She blinked quickly- up until now she had not known what happened to Arthur Shelby Senior. But she could not claim to mourn him, even if he had never been cruel to her. Only her judgement was not the one that mattered. His was. 

"That's why I said Dad and not father.", She said. "And man can be a father. But not all can or get to be a dad."

Her eyes drifted over to the picture on the mantelpiece and the man it showed. She saw him more in Emma than she saw him in that brass frame.  

"Which one am I, eh?", He asked, his voice rougher and lower than she was used to. And his eyes shone. 

"Which one do you want to be?", She asked, using the same soft tone she had used with Charlie only a little while earlier. 

He snorted and shook his head, his hair falling in his face. 

"As if that's all it takes."

His snarl was cruel, and it didn't pass her by without cutting her. But at the same time, she knew he was only lashing out to hide his own pain, and in this case fear. 

"I think it's a big part. The most important part, really. Because if you don't want it, you won't get through the sleepless nights, the messes, the frustration, the fights and the exhaustion."

Tommy stared at her for a moment, as if weighing her words against the entirety of the world. Whatever judgement he came to, he kept from her. Instead, he slowly held out his hand. 

She took it and let him pull her onto the sofa next to her, but to her surprise he did not let go of it, but chose to hold on. 

"You're so soft.", He remarked after a few silent minutes had passed. 

"Soft as in stupid?", She asked. He couldn't mean her hand. They were far from soft, with callouses and needle work scars. 

"No.", He said. "Soft like soft."

That told her little more. 

"How can you still be so soft in a place like this?"

Now she understood his meaning and she sighed. 

It was true, hard places breed hard people and Small Heath had its fair share of those. Perhaps she was stupid, or at least more stupid than most, more naive, maybe even weaker. But at the same time she was far from the only one in this part of the city who was like she was, at least to people they know. To outsiders, it was a different story.

Still, he wanted an answer. 

"Emma I think.", She admitted. "Children have such a unique way of seeing the world, as if everything is good, or at least supposed to be good."

"But it's not, is it?", He asked. "Not even fucking close."

"That doesn't mean we get to stop trying.", She said, sharper than she had intended. 

It made his head snap around and his eyes widened the same way Charlie's did when she had to scold him. 

So she softened her tone, before she voiced something that had left a bitter taste in her mouth long before tonight.

"You should talk to him.", she said cautiously.

"I talk to Charlie."

She picked pieces of dust off of the fabric of her dress instead of meeting his eyes.

"About his mother, I mean."

He pulled his hand away as if he had burned himself and shifted in his seat. Despite the crackling fire, the temperature seemed to have dropped at an instance.

"I don't want to talk about her.", he snarled through clenched teeth.

"And you don't have to.", (Y/N) agreed, "Not to me and not to your siblings or your aunt, not to anyone really, except Charlie."

When she looked at him again, she was met with a face turned to stone, harsher than she had seen in a long time.

"He has a right to know her, and you owe it to her to make sure she's more to her son than a picture on the wall. He doesn't remember her and he won't know her, not unless you talk to him."

Thomas Shelby exhaled the way a bull would exhale before charging, every muscle in his back so tense she thought they might burst.

But then, to her surprise, he dropped his head into his hands and sighed, hiding his face from view.

~

“Mummy?”, Emma asked. “Can we go to the church green today?”

“I see no reason against it. Tommy?”

He raised his hands, resigning himself to her judgement. 

Before he had time to lower them, a gunshot cut through the early morning air. 

Emma flinched so hard, she dropped the cup of milk. It shattered into a thousand pieces and spilled milk all over her nightgown and the floor. 

She wasn’t the only one who flinched. 

For a split second they were frozen as (Y/N) desperately stared at Tommy for guidance, for help, for anything.

“Upstairs.”, he ordered as he leapt to his feet. “Down and away from the windows. Don’t let anyone in!”

With that he ran off. 

“What’s happening?”, Charlie asked, sensing his father’s distress. 

“A car’s got problems.”, she lied, lifting Emma up so that she wouldn’t cut her feet on the shards, and taking Charlie by the arm. 

“Come on, you heard your father!”, she insisted sharply. "Go- go."

She ushered them up the stairs as quickly as she could and into Emma's bedroom. Out of all the places in her house, this was the one she considered the safest. 

She drew the curtains and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. 

"Come here, both of you!", She snapped. Both children came without argument, huddling into her. 

They knew that this wasn't normal, that something had happened which frightened them- and if the adults were frightened, children weren't far behind. 

Now, in the silence, she could do nothing more than to hold the children tight as the fear set in- but it wasn't just fear. It was icy cold terror. It found its way under her skin, through her veins and into the depth of her heart, freezing all of her until even breathing became a chore. 

Oh God- oh God please. 

She didn't even know what to pray for, or what not to pray for. 

What if someone came in? What would she do then? What could she even do? She had no gun- and she couldn't fight. 

But if someone entered, she couldn't just stay up here and wait to be found with the children. Or rather, have the children be found with her. 

She'd have to leave them, have to go down and lie and bargain and do whatever needed to be done. 

And only hope they would leave her alive and the children unnoticed. 

Yes, she could get through that, through anything. She would have to and so she would. 

There simply was no other option. 

"Mummy?", Emma finally asked, "Mummy, it's not a car, is it?"

It snapped her out of her almost trance-like focus. 

Her eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears. 

Oh my darling girl. 

She stroked over her head and kissed her temple, hoping the way only desperate people could hope that this wouldn't be the last time. 

"Sometimes cars have problems.", She told her. "And they make bad noises and if one doesn't take care of them properly, they become very dangerous and could even explode into a thousand little pieces."

"And Dad's gone to take care of it?", Charlie asked. 

She nodded, pulling him in tighter too. 

They waited for what seemed like half an eternity, until Emma's stomach began to rumble, but she knew not to ask for breakfast. She probably could tell by the devilish focus (Y/N) had on the door and the way she listened for everything, for anything. 

When she heard the movement in front of the door, she felt like she was falling. 

"Stay here.", She told them. "Don't make a sound, and don't come. No matter what happens."

No matter what you might hear. 

The children closed the gap her absence left at once, Mrs Tatters and Duffie between them. 

When she reached the top of the stairs, she could hear the key being turned on the lock- leaving time for another silent prayer. 

It opened slowly, and the person that had done it took the time to close it from the inside and lock it thoroughly. 

Even though his silhouette was painfully recognisable she waited until she could see him in full light to be sure. 

"Oh thank God.", She whispered, clutching the bannister as she no longer trusted her legs alone to hold her. 

"Just me.", Tommy Shelby said, staring up at her. "Just me. It's alright. It was just Arthur shooting a fucking bottle."

In that moment, she could have laughed. 

In that moment, she could have cried. 

But first she had to calm the children. 

"Dad, Dad, did you fix the car?", Charlie asked. 

"The car?", He asked, until he caught on. 

"Yeah. All fine, my boy. All as it should be."

"Does that mean we get breakfast now?", Emma asked. 

"Yeah- think so.", Tommy told her. 

(Y/N) felt foreign in her own body as she descended the steps carefully. 

Once she stood in the kitchen door she noticed the white puddle on the floor and the shards. 

She had forgotten all about it. 

But the children were hungry, so she hurried to make a few sandwiches and told them that they could eat in the living room. 

That excited the both of them and gave her time to clean up. 

Kneeling on the floor with a bit of old newspaper in one hand, she tried to collect the shards with the other. But as she reached for the pieces, they blurred in front of her, becoming one with the white milk, slipping from her grasp. 

“Oh bloody hell!”, she hissed under her breath, cursing herself for her foolishness, for her shaky hands, for the fact that she couldn’t just focus on the simple task ahead of her. 

"(Y/N)?”, a distant voice asked as she tried once more. 

“Hey, hey, hey- slow down!”

There was a sharpness in his tone that made her stop and look up to him as her eyes began to burn.

“Oh (Y/N).”, he sighed, as he knelt down in front of her. His hands reached out and clasped hers, and only then did she realise how violently they shook. 

“I’m sorry.”, she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m just being foolish.”

She wiped her forehead with her sleeve, as she took a shaking breath. 

“It’s alright,”, he assured her. “It’s alright, eh? C'mere. C’mere!”

A large hand found the back of her head and pulled her in - and she let him. 

His arms wrapped around her as she closed her eyes and buried her face in his white shirt. 

He smelled of cigarettes and the scent of his shaving cream, of earth and of smoke from an open fire. And maybe it was that similarity, which brought tears to her eyes.

“I didn’t know what to do.”, she whispered. “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Nothing at all. If they came, I could have done nothing.”

“But they didn’t come.”, he told her, stroking the back of her neck. “They didn’t and they won’t.”

You don’t know that. 

You can’t know that. 

John is dead. 

Mr. Gray is in the hospital. 

And you can’t know that they won’t come. 

“It was just Arthur being foolish - just fucking Arthur.”, he told her, swaying slightly with her in his arms.

She forced her eyes shut and leaned into him, into the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms.

“You’re safe. The children are safe. It’s alright. I promise, it’s alright.”

He told her again and again until she allowed herself to believe it. 

“What’s wrong?”, she heard Charlie's voice. 

(Y/N)  pulled herself away from Tommy’s embrace and saw his son standing in the doorway, his now empty plate in hand. 

But she didn’t know what to say to him.

“(Y/N)'s not feeling well.”, he told him. “So you’ll take her and make sure she sits down in the living room and I’ll make some tea, eh?”

“You don’t have t-”, she tried, but he shook his head. 

Diligently, Charlie stepped forward, taking her hand in his, stroking over it with the other. 

"Come now.", He told her, eager to fulfill the task set before him by his father. 

End of Part 6

~

Here you can find Part 7

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind! If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist].

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#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Thomas Shelby Imagine #The Boy in the Window #valentineswritings

[slocumjoe]

companions start a minecraft server. how do they play? who lives with who? who starts a war over their dog dying?

Companions play Minecraft

Cait; hardcore mode speedrunner who looks for increasingly difficult and mindfuck ways to kill the Elder Dragon. Why? Success is a kind of high you'll get from nothing else. Especially when you kill the final boss with nothing but eggs and slime pistons. When playing on Hancock's server, functions as a bodyguard during less-safe builds, like underground, or at the edge of the forest. The first line of defense during a raid. Does busywork for Codsworth in exchange for throwing eggs. Piper built a traditional Irish pub for her to live in and you can occasionally see her just staring at it in wonder. Is the one with the pack of wolves. The town graveyard is filled with her fallen pups. Also has a parrot, just to watch it dance to the pub's jukebox.

Codsworth; Does the busywork around the town Hancock and the others have built. Town is probably called Goodneighbor, let's be real. Tends the farms, the animals, makes food, etc. Does a little bit of everything. Takes care of Curie's zoo, goes fishing with Danse, gives opinions on building materials...pure chilling. Refuses to slaughter farm animals for meat, he's too attached. Fish, bread, and vegetables are on the menu in Goodneighbor. Lives in a quaint little birch cottage by the river, where he keeps flowers, bees, and chickens. All of them have nametags. Second line of defense during a raid—touch his potato fields, and enjoy eggs for your last meal.

Curie; Spends all of her time following and studying the more fantastical creatures, like Endermen. Keeps real notes in a notebook as she plays, theorizing on their biology. Endlessly fascinated with the convergent evolution between Villagers and Pillagers. Will often join Preston's archeology expeditions to discover the lore hints in the environment. Dies a lot, usually has nothing but seeds and dirt in her inventory. Keeps an area filled with specimens in appropriate pens. Puts bounties out for new creatures. Favors the axolotls and fish, though. Lives in the second floor of the zoo's visitor center.

Danse; Minecraft has a powerful aura of sad nostalgia, and I don't think he could handle it. Will help out in Goodneighbor by going and getting materials for building. Enjoys fishing more than anything, though. Gets very attached to his orange cat that sits on his bed. His dirt hut is on the outskirts of Goodneighbor, but is covered in flowers, paintings, and whatever else decor the others have put up. Nick dyed his cat's collar pink. Accompanies X6 on Curie's specimen bounties. Will sometimes stop moving. Don't worry, he's just enraptured by the music and is enjoying it. Or is being made very sad by it. Same thing, right?

Deacon; Pays money to change his username to look like someone else's every week. Changes to their skin, too, but edited to have sunglasses. Otherwise, Herobrine wannabe. If you don't know what that is, you are too young to be reading this blog. Deacon will make small, uniform tunnels, fill them with oddities like bone and paper. He'll leave structures reminiscent of crosses. He'll use armor stands and elaborate Redstone mechanisms, make it look like someone's watching you from the trees, only for you to step on a hidden pressure plate, and the figure vanishes. Adds to the lore of the world. Has a rainbow wool house filled with so many rabbits, the game crashes when he approaches.

Gage; You think Gage is playing a kids game? He has shit to do. Like pirate it and sell copies for dirt cheap. Not even to make money, he just does it for the principle. The principle of fuck you, I will make as many copies of this shit as I damn well please. Probably has his face hung up in Mojang HQ, with darts stuck in the one good eye. Would play if he could join the side of the Pillagers. Yeah, sure. He could just set villages on fire himself...but where's the community in that?

Hancock; Owns the server. Keeps it on harder difficulties for the challenge, but not so much of a...whatever you call Cait's type of player. Avid builder, Goodneighbor is a massive project recreating Boston. It's not quite 1 to 1, but still damn impressive. But, hey, if Bobby wants to build places from Grognak, that's chill. Doesn't care about aesthetic or accuracy, just wants to relax and let the creative juices flow. Hancock himself lives in a giant mushroom he made out of mushroom blocks, wool, and mycelium. Pet of choice? Mushroom cow, obviously, courtesy of X6.

MacCready; Got sick for a week. Built the entire Ux-Ron galaxy on the other side of the river. Doesn't remember it, was hopped up on Nyquil and chicken broth in hot water. The resident hunter, when he isn't on a grape-chicken-liquid diet. He's good at building, but can get bored quickly. Aim is...frightening. Can kill a chicken across any gulf. Takes the nightshift guard duty to shoot down Phantoms. His house is a crashed UFO. Even got Deacon to do his redstone trickery, so it lights up all blinky when you trigger a plate at the door. Has a parrot for a pet.

Nick; One of the more adventurous ones. Goes off with Preston, X6, and Cait to explore the different biomes. The resident potion master. It's just a puzzlegame, but for cocktails that can make you jump real high. Keeps a garden with various ingredients, often ventures into the Nether for blaze powder and rods. Has a spawner caged up, so he just smacks them through the door. Writes down all potion or poison recipes in an in-game book and quill. The trial-and-error- failed recipes are also listed, so it's 200+ pages long. His potion hut is built like a speakeasy, and he lives in the basement with a black cat. Would fill the place with ravens, if they weren't in the spin-off game. Third line of defense in town—keeps a chest full of splash poisons. Occasionally opens it and stares at them, like he's not sure if he's willing to commit such an act.

Piper; Obsessed with the underwater update. Always diving for treasure and sunken ships and temples. Keeps all of the knickknacks in a chest back at Goodneighbor, not even for use. Piper isn't even an ocean kinda gal in real life, but...it's so pretty! And the dolphins are so cute! Trades resources for water-breathing potions from Nick. Fills out so many maps, keeps them framed on a massive wall on the Goodneighbor docks. Also keeps a book-and-quill with coordinates and traveling notes, it's longer than Nick's recipe book. Lives in an underwater bubble habitat off the coast of Goodneighbor. Keeps a pink dolphin in a massive glass habitat outside.

Preston; Resident archeologist. Excavates ruins and structures to study them. Spent a month in real life sponging up an underwater temple. Even longer digging out an End fortress. Goes into mineshafts and renovates them entirely, puts signs and maps up. Takes X6 most often on his expeditions, has his own wall of land-maps. Preston spends a lot of time studying the builds left in the world and pondering the historical implications. Real theorist over here. He's fascinated with the subtle story telling and clues. The End keeps him up at night. His house is the huge community library. Also keeps books, writes down his notes and theories. Has a llama for traveling. If anything happened to it, would be very distraught.

X6-88; Resident mercenary. Nick accidentally summoned the Wither? There's a baby zombie running around? Deacon's rabbits have broken out the windows, and the server is in legitimate danger if the horde grows any larger? Get X6-88. Appears with a clap of thunder on his black warhorse, wielding only the most enchanted of weapons, wearing the most enchanted of armor. He does all the hard, dangerous work. Clears out the Nether, the End, Dark Forests, Pillager encampments...X6 is the hard hitter that goes out into danger, whereas Cait stays behind to defend. Is the one who leashes animals and painstakingly brings them back to Goodneighbor, occasionally with Danse's help. He lost his mind, looking for pandas for Curie. Keeps one as a pet in his house, which is the castle in the graveyard.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #companions react #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #porter gage #codsworth

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

A Surefly Way

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 716

Summary: watching an old film of Dieter’s has unexpected results (the fake film part was based on a dream)

Warnings: minor historical inaccuracies, a child cries but it’s all happy adorable fluffy goodness at the end, Dieter being Dieter

Check out masterlist here

“This corn?” Clara asked holding a can out to you.

“Yes, that’s corn.”

“Corn yummy!”

You and Clara had just returned from some errands. She enjoyed helping unpack groceries and you explained the contents as she passed them to you. Having finished with that task, you turned on the TV and left Clara in the living room to play and you set about making dinner.

“Look! Daddy!” Clara pointed excitedly at the TV.

There on the screen was your husband looking rather dapper in a pinstripe suit. You bundled that image away for later use.

“It’s a daddy story,” that was what you ended up calling films featuring your husband.

This particular one was before the two of you met. Surefly Way was set during the Second World War and supposedly about two chocolate factories. The history was dubious at best but at the heart of it was a love story so the inaccuracies could be forgiven.

Clara enjoyed watching any films with her father but never watched many of them as he hated watching himself on screen. This one was age appropriate, so you left her to it. You heard occasional dialogue and made a guess to the plot.

Miss Winslow, daughter of Mr. Winslow, owner of Winslow Chocolates is pretending to be an ordinary factory worker making ration bars for frontline troops. Unknowingly, her American fiancée, Mr. Surefly of Surefly Chocolates, arrives to help in the making of the chocolate. Having no idea what his future intended looks like, he ends up falling in love with her and she in return.

~

“Mr. Surefly is here in England? Shouldn’t he be back home in America?”

“He feels that he’d do better for the troops here. Isn’t this a good chance to meet your fiancé?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Dotty, why?”

“Because I want to fall in love. Not be sold off and shipped off to the highest bidder!”

~

“Americans? What do Americans know about chocolate?”

“Their stuff only tastes slightly better than a boiled potato.”

~

“So Mr. Surefly, is there a sweetheart waiting for you back home?”

“I do have a fiancée, but I’ve yet to meet her.”

“How have you not met the woman you’re going to marry?”

“Let’s say it’s more of a business exchange rather than an act of love.”

~

“You were pretending this whole time? Why?”

“How can I sit here doing nothing while everyone else is off fighting the war? Even the royal family are going their part.”

~

You heard the sounds of the front door as Dieter arrived back home. Clara seemed too intrigued with on-screen father to notice her actual father, so he made his way over to you.

“Clara is watching one of your films.”

“It better not be Cliff Beasts.”

“No, it’s Surefly Way,” confusion crossed his face. “World War Two? Two chocolate factories?”

He vaguely remembered filming something in that time period, so he wandered over to watch it with his daughter.

As he got closer, he saw that Clara was in tears.

“What’s wrong cupcake?”

“Daddy kiss lady,” she pointed at the screen.

It took a minute for Dieter to remember back to who was in the film with him, mainly his on-screen romantic partner. “Yes, I did kiss that lady.”

“Not mummy,” more tears ran down her cheeks and it took less than a minute for Dieter to decipher the toddler code.

“Oh, cupcake,” he pulled her close. “That was mummy I was kissing. She swapped out with that lady.”

You had just walked into the room, so Dieter turned to you.

“That was you I was kissing, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “They always swap me out if there’s kissing.”

Clara wiped her face, “You love mummy?”

“Yes, I love mummy so much and she’s the only lady I kiss. But you get kisses too because you’re my sweet baby girl.”

He kissed her cheek, his beard tickling her turning her sobs into giggles.

Later on, she went to bed happy knowing that her parents still loved each other, sometimes a bit too much.

“Nice save.”

“I learned from the best,” he kissed your cheek.

“So when is she going to learn the truth about it?”

“Oh, when she’s older. Like, fifty.”

“We’ll definitely be dead by then.”

“Well then, she’ll never know.”

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl @cupcakehp @wannab-urs

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror universe #love of horror #dieter x reader #dieter x f!reader #dieter bravo #the bubble netflix #the bubble

[munsster]

Just imagine Steve freaking out when you have your first baby but by the sixth he’s totally prepared and chilled because you guys have been through it so many times lol.

domestic!steve and his little family (3)

A/N: he totally would go from gelled hair, full suit and tie to like war vet wearing glasses and drinking a slurpee in sweats

Warnings: references to childbirth/labor!, hospital, panicked steve, dad!steve, fluff, afab!reader implied, cursing, pet names (sunshine)

part one part two part three part four

steve’s character development surrounding your labor 😭 pls

and the first time he’s totally helicopter mom-ing it

bringing two duffel bags full of literally anything and everything that you might need

(most of it is really for him though)

steve “ohgodpohffuckohmyggodwhat if i mmiss it” harrington vs. steve “ay, babe, im runnin’ to the store, what kinda M&M’s d’you want?” harrington

oh god that first time he’s so lost

i mean he had 9 months to prepare and now he’s floundering???

he works up a sweat before you can even say your water broke

both of you being so diligent the first time: playing music for your bump, going to lamaze classes, being really good about the pregnancy diet

oh man, that poor sixth baby…….

not that you two are any less caring about it, but you are hella tired and they can’t expect you to avoid caffeine the whole time😭😭

now as far as preparedness goes, MAN has there been a vast improvement

the first time, he did not know what to do once you had your first contraction

he SPED to the hospital only for them to be like “uhhh just wait here” and you’re there for two hours when you could’ve been home i-

he was so scared the first time too

you were ANNIHILATING his right hand tho

probly broke a couple of his fingers, but thats okay, he’ll forgive you

him being that dad with a video camera

oh he was so obsessed the first time

bringing you ice chips so so often

asking if you needed anything constantly

helping you breathe through the hard parts

moving your hair out of your face 🥺

telling you how good you’re doing

you being an absolute menace—seriously, full on excorist—but he understands because… well, childbirth!

and once that sucker pops out, he’s so excited and you look so so beautiful holding the baby

and the first time dad really kicks in

he is SO nervous while you’re just sitting with the baby

then the nurse comes to put him in the nursery

and you immediately go “are you okay, stevie? i can see you brooding over there” “‘m not brooding, i’m just—” “nervous?” “yeah” “me too”

and he looks at you so lovingly and kisses your forehead and goes “we got this”

🥺🥺 he is just a sweetheart

then along came the twins—a whole different ordeal—and then babygirl and her brother

and then the sixth

you got your first contraction at like 5 am

yikes

and evvvvvverybody woke up

whole house was absolutely bumping

all the little ones were SO excited and you were like

holy fukcing shit im never doing this again

and steve really groggily phoned the sitter and apologized for the wakeup call

but she was sweet about it and watched the kids while you two hobbled into the car and drove off

oh and all the babes were like “good luck!!!” “see you soon” “miss youuuououoou” and waving and chasing the car down the street as far as they could 🥺🥺🥺

this time steve brought nothing

no duffel bag

he’ll drive home if he needs to

he’s learned enough to know that he doesn’t know anything

what never changes is that he’s always holding your hand if he can

like he’ll just reach for you and let you crush his hand during a particularly brutal contraction

honestly, his gentleness never fades

he’s just a lot more tired now

and wearing his pajamas & slippers

and he forgot to shave

but no matter, you are in your hospital gown looking gracefully sweaty when he waltzes into the room eating a bag of potato chips

and you glare at him

“want some?” “there is a baby coming out of me” “understood”

and he’s perched on the same chair in the same room with his chip bag tossed aside

“y’look just as beautiful as you did the first time” “please murder me, steven” “i could never” “if you don’t, this baby will” “nah, i believe in you, sunshine, you got this”

bonus: dustin bringing balloons and flowers and toys like the good uncle he is

and he definitely gives steve the same pep talk each time about how great of a father he’s been/going to be

aww dustin 🥺😌

he really loves being a part of your guys’ little family

and once it’s over, steve’s hovering over your shoulder and watching the baby with a little smile

and once the nurse takes the baby

he gets in the bed with you

“d’you think they’ll let us sleep here?” and he has his arms around you, very quickly losing consciousness

“god i hope so” and you slump into him right as he starts snoring

the babies are SO EXCITED when you finally bring the sixth home

they’re all like “woahhh” and so eager to touch the baby but they don’t

one of the grouches being like “SEND IT BACK” and steve laughing his ass off before scolding him a little

and babygirl being all like “she’s so little….. i LOVE her!!!!!”

ughhh, you know you both promised to stop after this one but

i mean, come on

masterlist

#steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #domestic!steve harrington #domestic steve harrington #fluff #headcanon #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #st4 #stranger things 4 #x fem!reader #x gn!reader #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #fanfic

[yourfriendlyneighbourhoodweeb]

If you guys haven’t heard, technoblade or Alex has passed away

I wasn’t his fan from the very beginning but in covid, around one and a half year ago, I started watching minecraft and the dream smp

Techno already became my favourite

Over a year ago he posted a video titles “where I’ve been”

Technoblade usually didn’t really upload and us the fans made that an inside joke but when we heard what happened, we were shattered to our cores

Technoblade has been suffering from cancer in his right hand for over a year, in the video he had told us about how he found about his cancer

Hearing the news, many minecraft players put up a purple ribbon on their skin, I don’t play minecraft so I just put that in my usernames, it stands for cancer treatment

Then he made another update video, telling us how he’s going for physical therapy

After that he also made a vr video, said that he woukd continue the series, in the video he sound3d so much better, like his health was getting much better

Did we speak too soon?

Today in my area, at 10 o’clock morning I opened my iPad to see if stranger things’ new episodes have been released

When I suddenly saw a notification from techno, I got super excited that maybe he’s gotten better

But then

My heart sank

Shattered into too many pieces to count

As I read the title

“So long nerds”

I immediately clicked on it, forgetting about stranger things.

We were met by techno’s dad and his dog floof.

He told us that technoblade had passed away. At 10 o’clock in the morning, I felt hot steamy salty tears run down my cheeks as I gripped my iPad, hoping it was all a sick joke

That randomly we would hear techno saying “TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIESSS” or “CANCER, IF YOU WISH TO DEFEAT ME, TRAIN FOR ANOTHER 800 YEARSSS” but that never happened

Techno had left a last message for us fans

His real name was Alex, which he greatly trolled us with “Dave”, he wanted us to live long and happy lives

And he told us something we never had heard from him, but we always knew that in our hearts

“I love you guys”

His dad’s voice cracked and he also cried

Telling us about how much techno was struggling to write these words for us.

I and millions of fans, his loved ones, family, friends all miss him dearly

He was an inspiration for millions of kids in the world.

For me, his humour stood above all, he himself for me stood above all

I always had his potato war series in my downloads, cause I knew that if I was ever really sad then his videos will definitely make me laugh when no body else can

I don’t have words to describe how I feel

My condolences goes to his family and friends, who lost him as Alex

We lost him as a legend, a god, an awesome human being, and as technoblade

Maybe only Alex has left us, technoblade will always be remembered in our hearts, he will always be part of our good memories, where I would stay up till 2 just to watch his streams because of different time zones

And now I’m here crying, literally sobbing as I write this, I haven’t been feelings very well but today when I heard about what happened, I sobbed hard.

I remember feeling so excited when I would always hear “startin the streammmm”, it brought me joy and comfort which I am really realising today.

I’m sure many others have too

“Blood for the blood god”

“If you wish to defeat me, train for another 300 years”

“Damce potato boy, DANCEE”

“I dropped out of college because minecraft was the only thing I had the intellectual capacity for”

“Welcome home thesuius”

“My chats is bullying me”

He truly didn’t deserve to go

At age 23, he had so much to live for

But even in those years, he made the best of them

I will never forget you king

Your iconic moments and quotes are forever drilled into our hearts

We love you too

Rest in peace king

Rest easy

o7

🎗💜

Fuck cancer!

“Technoblade never dies”

Technoblade truly will never die

#technoblade death #technoblade x #technoblade x reader #dream smp #minecraft #o7 #rest in piece technoblade #technoblade #blood for the blood god #technoblade never dies #fuck cancer #rest easy king #angst

[thesparrowmelody]

Thomas Andre x Lennart Niermann canon divergence au

After the final war things went back to normal and Lennart return back to his guild in German

One day Thomas in casual outfit which consist of his leather jacket and white t shirt underneath and jeans just barged into his office before lunch break and pick him up onto his shoulder like a sack of potato

Everyone in the guild watch them in bewilderment and surprised at seeing Thomas Andre the no 1 hunter in the world carrying their guild  leader effortlessly like he weight nothing 

Lennart who was in shock struggle futilely on his shoulder as he was carried out toward the huge bike park right in front of the building door 

Thomas place Lennart gently on the bike and place a helmet on him

Lennart glared at Thomas and asks "What do you think you're doing?"

Thomas don't reply but his grin look downright devilish as he put on his own helmet before saying "I'm taking you out for lunch" and start the bike which produce loud noise that grate his ears

Thomas drive through the road recklessly and Lennart is pretty sure he broke all the road law. he pray for his safety all while holding onto Thomas broad frame which feel really really nice for some reason that Lennart refuse to think of as heat rush to his face 

They arrived in front of a café that look really cozy and apparently Thomas have place a reservation on the entire cafe for the entire lunch hour since it's empty of any customer save for the waitress and waiter 

Lennart was skeptical of Thomas' intentions and weird attitude when the hunter took out a small box from his leather jacket and placed it in front of Lennart. It looks like a gift, but for what?

Thomas spoke up then and said "I want to give this to you. I'm grateful to you for defending and saving me from the beast monarch-"

Lennart intercepts him, "Wait, hold on. One, I didn't do that for you. Two, I barely do much... Hunter Sung is the one who subdues him in the end. In the end I'm just acting recklessly"

Thomas looked at Lennart in disbelief and said, "That's not true at all! I can count by hand on how many hunters could land a hit on the beast monarch and you're one of them! Your courage is admirable and you managed to push him back with just one hit. I find your action quite ho-t I mean admirable" Lennart was too dumbfounded by Thomas' word to realize the slip. "I owe you one for that and wish to give you this as a thank you from me. I will be happy if you'll accept it"

Lennart stared at the gift for a moment before looking at Thomas, he still had those sunglasses on but could feel the piercing gaze through it. "Okay, I'll accept this gift. Thank you" he said softly

Thomas didn't miss the light blush adorning Lennart's cheek and smiled inwardly. It seems like his plan is going smoothly so far

The rest of the lunch hour was spent eating and talking. They had conversations about their respective guild and things they could improve for the training and so on

Thomas heard Lennart laugh for the first time and found he loved the sound of his laughter and Lennart got to see Thomas' red eyes without the sunglasses and was captivated by how different he looked without it. 

Thomas drives him back to his workplace while Lennart clings to him and wishes the time will stop for a moment for he wants to spend more time with Thomas. He wasn't as insufferable as he thought at first and enjoyed the moment they spent together

Upon arriving, Lennart gave Thomas the helmet and mumbled a thanks. But he didn't take it back, instead putting it back onto Lennart's head. Lennart was confused by his action when he suddenly lean forward and kiss him through the helmet at right where his lips should be

Thomas stepped back and said "No thank you. You can have the helmet, it's for you. I enjoyed today's date. Same time tomorrow? I will fetch you again. Bye" Stunned, Lennart could only stand there in daze as Thomas wink at him and drove away in his noisy bike at a dangerous speed until he could no longer see his silhouette

Lennart took the helmet off and noticed a piece of sticky note stuck on the helmet visor . On the sticky note was a number scrawl messily that Lennart had a hard time identifying the numbers. Well he could always ask him tomorrow instead. A small smile adorns his face as he blushes at the implication

It's a date.

Bonus:

That night Lennart found out Thomas gave him an expensive custom made cufflink set adorned with jewels that bring out his eye color. He wore it the next day during his date with Thomas.

I will eventually write a proper fic for this au but for now this will do (‾.‾“)

#solo leveling #solo leveling manhwa #Thomas Andre x Lennart Niermann #Thomas Andre #Lennart Nierman #my writing

[birthisacurse-and]

hey have you heard the techno news? :(

this is from a few days ago, but I'm home from traveling and now can reply with my full attention.

I saw the video notification 15 minutes after it was uploaded. I thought for sure he was simply officially going on a break, or that it was a prank. I don't know why, but for some reason, when they did surgery on his arm, I thought that would be the end of it, that he would get better from then on. Now, I keep fluctuating between denial and acceptance, unable to land solidly onto one. Every time I open Tumblr, I'm reminded of his death, which is both a bad and a good thing- bad because I feel just solemn sadness for a while, and good because I love seeing all the fanart and outpouring of love on my dash.

Suffice to say, Techno was my favorite mcyt CC, by far. Like for many of you, he made me laugh when I was incredibly sad or angry or stressed. I found the Dream SMP hard to keep up with because streams were too long for my attention to be kept, but Techno's streams were the only ones I would watch fully every time, beginning to end. I'd sing "starting the stream" along with him, I donated to him on my birthday just so he could call me a nerd, I changed my Minecraft skin to an Antarctic Empire outfit rendition for a while. He is the only streamer whose "cancelling" attempts I ever fully, and in great detail, covered on my blog, refuting every point Twitter was trying to make about inane things. When he privated so many of his videos, I panicked and eventually felt massive relief when I found them on the Internet Archive. When people said comfort streamer, the only one who really fit that definition for me was Technoblade.

Now I'm rewatching his Potato War videos. I'm going to be rewatching his Story Mode and Dream SMP VODs for the next few weeks, I'm sure. And still, nothing will fill the hole that is left by his current absence. I, like many others, will miss him deeply, but this community that has garnered so much love and creativity and support in the aftermath of his death will sustain me, as it will all of you.

I've seen some really concerning tweets, posts, and comments from hardcore Techno fans (that I can highly relate to), and I want to tell you all this: please keep going. He would want you to. Just because someone is gone does not mean that we must give up and disappear, ourselves. Live on, so his memory can live on in you.

#technoblade #death tw #mcyt #dream smp #asks #death mention tw