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red-write-hand · 5 months

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Day One: I’ll be home for Christmas: Thomas Shelby

pairing -> thomas shelby x reader

warnings -> tommy being diabetic levels of sweet, talks of pregnancy, tommy and his fairly good voice, mariah Carey, santa baby (sorry y’all)

word count -> 908

A/N: this is absolutely dedicated to @birminghamshelbyboys love you to bits bestie :]

The snow fell slowly, dancing lazily as it sparkled and spiraled. It was like perfection brought down from the heavens. Birmingham was never this perfect. It had its cracks and flaws. It had its imperfections, but from your view, snow covered fields and pine trees caked in the white powder to perfection, there was no better place to be for Christmas than in Birmingham. You pulled the comfortingly warm, knit blanket around your shoulders. It was threadbare but it was yours.

You had forgotten the amount of times you had wrapped Tommy’s sleeping form up when he fell asleep doing work. Whenever you wrapped it around you, cozying up with a book and a mug of hot chocolate, it was almost like he was here. The blanket now was interwoven with his scent, so whenever you close your eyes it was like you could hear his voice in your ear tell you he had gotten home safe and there was no reason to worry about him. He would give such light kisses whenever he came home early, like he was worried you were fragile until a certain hour. His hands would glide and caress you like all he wanted to do was admire you.

That is how some colder nights would end, with him sitting on the counter and him just studying your every movement. Like you were some priceless piece of art that he would cherish until the day he died. In actuality, that is what he thought of you.

The sound of an approaching car brought you out of daydreams and had a smile growing on your face. That meant your husband was home. Your Tommy. The man who loves nothing more than to hold you in his arms and make you feel like the most special woman in the world. The door opened and closed, coming with it a rush of icy wind and a flurry of quiet Romani cursing and a few stray snowflakes.

You padded in your cozy socks towards the kitchen, wanting to make your husband some hot chocolate because you, now don’t get it wrong, you loved him but you were not about to share your hot chocolate. As you clattered around to find all the supplies to make the best hot chocolate for your adoring husband, you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you up fast to a large, warm chest.

Taking a deep breath, trying to keep his scent in your nose for as long as possible, you could tell instantly that it was your darling. You leaned into his chest, relaxing completely. You were able to collapse in his chest because you knew he would catch you, he would always catch you, no matter what. You were always the warmest in his arms. Somehow, it was just warmer with him around. Just as fast as the comfort was there, just as quickly slipped away when Tommy went to put on a record. It was a slow, jazzy version of ‘I’ll be home for Christmas.’ Once the Shelby had taken hold of your waist, that’s when you two started to sway, just barely but it was there.

He would plant small, lingering kisses on your jaw, just to make sure that you hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Right now, all you wanted to do is curl up in his arms and forget the world existed, forget the world needed the two of you, forget that you needed to live up to any expectations. He whispered soft things into your ear. Things about how much he loves you, how gorgeous you are to him, how delicate you look, how delicious you are. You both swayed slightly as the song continued to play. As the song ended, you gave him a small, tired kiss. A kiss from a woman who was happy to have her darling back safe.

He held her face in his strong hands and looked at her like she was the most beautiful, most precious, most perfect thing in the world. They hadn’t even noticed that something else had started playing. He chuckled and started humming the song. You groaned. You could only take so much Mariah at this point. You switched it and the next song was Santa Baby. Behind you, Tommy started to hum. His voice wasn’t half bad but it was a little too low to reach the high notes. You giggled and turned to face your adoring husband.

Your hands dragged down his chest as you also started to hum along. It was a quiet moment of calm, of peace, of ease, but more importantly passion, love, adoration from both parties. You kissed his nose gently as his palms gently pressed against the small of your back.

Without saying anything, brought one of his hands over to your stomach and gave him a look that spoke of pure joy and love. His cornflower blue eyes started to get a little watery. You two had been trying for months to no avail. Eventually, you both had agreed that it just wasn’t in the cards but now- now everything has changed. He, with all the poise and grace of a prince with his bride, kissed you. It was hard and passionate but it was also soft and sweet. It said “Our hard work has finally paid off” and it said “I love every single member of our little family.” It was perfect. A perfect Christmas Eve.

#12 days of Cill-mas #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #cillian murphy #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #mutuals #peaky blinder imagine

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carionto · 8 months

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A Proper Welcoming Party - P1

Vice Admiral Krastina was on duty in the inner segment of the Sol system to monitor a crucial mining aspect of the Dyson Sphere construction. Well, closer to a ring-like skeleton. It'll take far more than a few minor moons to approach even a thousandth of completion.

The current power output was astonishing already, yet not even close to a fraction of what the planetary Warp Gate required. The logistics crew are looking for a more... creative source of materials.

The Sol system was abuzz with activity. Massive orbital construction projects, terraforming Mars and Venus, strip mining some of Jupiter and Saturn's more useless moons, if not outright breaking them down, and the thousands of emerging research stations given a blank check and left to their own devices. A bustling and eager young space faring civilization. Also known as a target rich environment for prospecting rogue elements.

No matter how broad and all encompassing the Galactic Coalition strives to be - space is vast. Some might say infinite. Within infinity all possibilities are real. Maybe nowhere close, perhaps not any time soon, but if it's even remotely possible, then it is guaranteed to be.

Of those limitless variations, Rogue Pirate Admiral (self proclaimed) Big Thrasher (self nicknamed), was in charge of the undisputedly most powerful independent fleet (self assessed, would be disputed if the topic was brought up outside his fleet) in the entire Galaxy (has not operated outside a small cluster of sixteen systems), and he has set his sight (wears an eyepatch just for show) on the refinery station around Mercury.

It's the perfect plan (has not updated the fleets database on Humanity in months) with no chance of failure (failure is always possible). He has accounted for Everything (literally the opposite is true)!

He commands all ships to enter hyperspace and emerge danger close. The hummies won't know what hit 'em. Hehehehee...

Part 2

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #story #scifi #carionto

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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

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Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 5

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the 'lost' daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700, @jinlizz-dragondrama, @firelightinferno, @bubbleyukismile, @coopsgirl, @achromaticerebus, @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart

Once you had finished fussing over the elk, you turned back to Thranduil. He was watching you and you smiled back at him. “I don’t suppose I should greet you quite the same way I did your animal.” You teased, moving past him and finding yourself pleased when you heard him laugh.

“I suppose not.” He said once he had regained his composure, thinking of you petting his hair like you did the creatures fur. An image so absurd he laughed again.

You weren't gathering berries as you had been yesterday, you were simply sitting in the clearing. Enjoying the air, the freedom, and the sounds of the forest. It was always so lovely here and you could see and hear some of your little animal friends in the trees above. You sat on a fallen log and, after a moment, Thranduil followed.

"You do not mind if I stay a while, do you?" He ventured, gesturing to the space beside you.

You looked back up at him, considering for a brief moment before you shook your head. "Oh. No... no. No, I don't mind."

Thranduil sat down, noting that your slight awkwardness had returned. There was something endearing about it, though he pushed the thought aside. The elk moved off to graze while Thranduil simply sat and watched you for a moment.

"What?" You asked after a few seconds, turning your head when you felt his eyes still on you.

“Sorry.” Thranduil shook his head. "I am merely trying to figure you out." He admitted.

"Figure me out?" You tilted your head, confused.

He chuckled. "Well, yes." Thranduil nodded. "I was not aware there were any elves living alone out in the forest."

"Oh, I'm not alone." You stated simply, shrugging, the real meaning of his words either lost on you or ignored. "I live with my uncle."

Thranduil was even more surprised by this fact and the expression on his face told you as much. "Two of you?" He went quiet for a moment, thinking. He knew of no nearby dwellings. Well, save Radagast's of course but he hardly thought that dilapidated thing counted. "Where do you live?"

You went quiet at that, suddenly very unsure. "Oh." You shook your head, turning to look at him. "I can’t say.” You hesitated as he blinked back at you in confusion. “I'm not supposed to tell strangers.”

Thranduil frowned slightly. He was no threat to elves living in the wood. Surely you could tell that? He remembered you didn’t know that he was the king and he supposed he could have told you here and now... but something stopped him.

"Well, we are not really strangers, are we?" He said instead, deciding to let the issue lie for now.

You gave him a look, tilting your head as you regarded him with curiosity. "Are we not?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No. Of course not. We've met before."

You frowned at him and shook your head. "Yesterday. I don’t think that really counts."

Thranduil shook his head again. "No, not yesterday."

You regarded him with complete confusion then. "Not--? What do you mean?"

Thranduil chuckled, shrugging a little as he moved to stand again. "Don’t you remember?” He gave you a pointed look, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Once upon a dream."

"A dream?" You chuckled then as you realised then that he was just being silly. "Well, I am afraid I do not remember, good sir... did I say anything in this dream?"

"You said-" Thranduil smirked, a gleam in his eye as he extended his had out towards you. "-that you would sing me a song and we would dance."

You blinked at him but you couldn’t help the small, amused smile tugging at your lips, giving away your own amusement. “Did I indeed?”

Thranduil nodded, humming an affirmative. “In fact, you promised.” He wasn’t entirely certain what had come over him. It couldn’t have even been ten minutes ago that he had been absolutely stricken by those memories of the past brought on by his meeting with the Enchantress. Now, it seemed almost as though he was being spelled by an enchantress of a completely different kind.

He stayed where he was, looking at you, before you eventually broke the stand off and laughed softly, rising from where you were seated and reaching out for the hand he was still holding out towards you.

“Well, I suppose I cannot go back on a promise, can I?” You teased as you looked up at him. Thranduil was looking back at you triumphantly as you started to sing a soft tune, much like yesterday’s. He pulled you a little closer, one hand dropping to your waist as he started to lead you in a little dance around the clearing.

You felt a bit silly at first, laughing every so often between the song, making Thranduil laugh at the same time. Soon, he began to sing with you in a way he hadn’t since his father died and he was thrust onto the throne, and every woodland creature nearby stopped their own song to come closer so they could listen to the song of the Elvenking that they had so greatly missed.

So caught in the moment were the both of you, that the dark pair of eyes watching through a thick tangle of nearby trees and bushes went completely unnoticed. So caught up were the animals that not even they had the wits to sound the alarm.

Through the trees, the Enchantress narrowed her gaze. Thranduil was dancing in the clearing with some maiden. The sight made her sick, though she couldn’t conceal her curiosity about this she-elf who, from what she’d heard of their conversation, did not live within the halls of the woodland realm.

Her gaze was fixed on Thranduil, wanting to wipe the smile right off his face, though her attention continued to drift back to you. Who were you, who could have the Elvenking looking and sounding so light after she had specifically intended to tear down his defences during their little meeting.

The good thing was that he seemed far too enamoured with the elf in front of him to sense her presence. That was good. That meant she could poke around a little more. Silently, she turned and tore herself away from the couple in the clearing, hurrying through the trees to continue her exploration.

For many long years after that fateful day in Lindon, the Enchantress had thought (as had everybody) that Gil-Galad’s daughter had lost her life. It had not been her intention when she appeared in Lindon that day, for the elfling to be slaughtered there and then. No, she had bestowed upon the baby a curse that would have had them all living in fear and paranoia for thousands of years. However, things had gone slightly awry, ending in the deaths of two queens and one princess. Grief had rained down upon Gil-Galad that day as intended, but the Enchantress had been left slightly dissatisfied. It was over too quickly for her liking.

Many years later, however, word had reached her ears from a spy within Lindon itself. He said that the princess had survived and had been taken far away and hidden, to be kept as such until the time limit on her curse ran itself out.

However, unable to find a trace of the child, the Enchantress was left still furious. Her orcs found no trace of the elleth in any town, forest, or mountain. She even began to consider that the spy had been lying to her and had tried to track him down to kill him - unluckily for her, however, he had already passed on to the Halls of Mandos by this point.

The Enchantress did not give up her search and a good thing too... for she knew it was the right choice. She knew the princess did indeed live. She had come into possession of one of the palantir a great many years ago, though she had since lost it again, and in it she had discovered the truth. The princess had indeed survived, and the Enchantress would stop at nothing to find her.

Gil-Galad may be long dead but her need for revenge was not and she would not rest until her curse was completed.

The song eventually came to an end and you and Thranduil came to a stop in the middle of the clearing. There was a brief pause and then you both started laughing.

Thranduil let go of you and stepped back, giving a brief bow.

You returned the gesture with a giggle, cheeks flushed.

You had gone from pretty much no contact with anybody to dancing and singing with this strange ellon in two days. It was a little absurd and you knew you could not tell Radagast or he would forbid you from leaving on your own, but you realised that you enjoyed the feeling of it. You enjoyed not being alone in the woods, having someone to share it with... you’d had the animals, of course, but it wasn’t exactly the same. You were aware that you barely knew this elf but you felt like you might trust him already. He hadn’t given you any reason not to.

“I see you are a lady who keeps her word.” Thranduil joked lightly. “Very honourable.”

“But of course.” You laughed again as you turned back towards the bench. A bird flew down from the branches above and landed in front of you. Thranduil watched you ruffle its feathers with a smile.

He stayed for a while longer but then he had to take his leave and go back to his halls. At least he would be returning less frustrated than he had left.

He returned two days later to find you were picking berries again, which this time he helped you with. Then he came again the next day, and the day after that. Instead of telling you that he was the king, Thranduil decided that he was simply not going to. Not yet, anyway. He quite liked the time he spent out here with you, able to be simply Thranduil.

His unease about the Enchantress was still very present but he did not see her again for over a week...

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfic #thranduil fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #hobbit fanfic #sleeping beauty

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lilac-den · 9 months

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Fluff Prompt [Silverking][F!Dolos x MC]

In regards to this poll!

It had been a lazy Sunday morning when I saw Dolos's sleeping face.

It's nothing new, of course. While Dolos rarely sleeps, she does so around me. But it still boggles my mind just how different she looks when she's asleep.

Her face looks so relaxed and innocent, none of the mischievous glint in her eyes or the fiendish grin she'd flash towards the people she has a bone to pick with (or Dionysus, if she feels particularly evil and plotting on what buttons to push). She's even breathing easily, the soft rise and fall of her chest presenting a sort of calmness I don't remember seeing too often.

I reach out, brushing the back of my fingers against her cheek.

"Mm..." Dolos closes her lips together and leans into my touch easily. My heart shivers from seeing those lips curl upwards.

"She's asleep, she's asleep, she's asleep." I remind myself insistently, to not be pulled into that exotic charm of hers. The fact she isn't lashing out at me is already something I should be lucky with; the last time someone touched her while she's asleep, she got a pocket knife out and pinned the person down with a sort of feral gaze.

She didn't sleep right after that, not till I got to her and helped soothe her. It's probably because she doesn't see me as much of a threat as the doctor who came to check on her vitals.

I begin pulling my fingers away...just for a hand to grasp my hand in an instant.

Eyes blink open for me and I still feel my breath being taken away by the glint of life in them.

"Sorry." I find myself saying, not tearing my eyes away from her face. "I just...couldn't help it."

And she smiles a foxy smile. But this one has less sharpness to them, a gentle sort.

"You're being cute with me, tweety bird."

I feel my cheeks warm. The nickname is much more intimate with that sleepy voice she has upon being woken up.

"I should be saying the same thing to you, love."

I sit up, the blanket covering me and Dolos falling off my torso and to my lap. I look at Dolos over my shoulder, just to find her admiring something behind me with a lax smirk on her face.

"Mm...You sure about that?"

She lifts a hand and moves for my back. The moment I feel sharp stings, I elicit a mixture of a groan and growl. I move an arm under her raised on and move to be on top of her, her breasts pressing against my torso. Dolos laughs.

"You didn't seem to mind them last night."

"Probably because somebody has me too occupied to take note."

"Aww." Dolos coos. "Are you blaming me for this small plight of yours?"

"If I'm to blame you for anything, it's for that drink you brought over."

She makes a wide, wide grin at that. "Lightweight."

I lean in, letting out a short laugh. "Thirsty vixen."

Her arms wrap around my neck and I move to bury my nose against her neck, a sense of pride welling in me with each mark I find to signal her as mine. I begin peppering her with kisses, which leads to her laughing again. "I'm thirsty? What does that make you then?"

"A hungry hermit?" I provide, more focused on kissing just how many marks there are on her than putting a label of what I am compared to her.

Then I feel a sharp tug on the back of my head, drawing my face up to meet Dolos's eyes again. Her hands move to my cheeks, holding them in place.

"Should I start calling you 'Hummy bird' then?"

I can't help but laugh at the second definition of 'hermit', my arms wrapping around Dolos's waist to tug her close to me. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Of course." She says with much confidence. "Why else would you be here, sleeping oh-so-soundly with me?"

She certainly has the sense of what buttons to push on for me to feel my cheeks on fire.

But a part of me can't resist firing back.

I reach up to brush the locks of her hair off her face and murmur to her sweetly. "Because I love you."

Her face goes in shock. My lips smile before I'm even aware of it.

"I trust you with my life."

And, at this, my beloved looks more flustered than she had done to me.

A rare sight indeed.

#silverking #snippet #Dolosasks

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the-blank-crossing-os · 4 months

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what r some features does each contestant have if they were hummie..(human)

Ooo lets see...

Bouquet would dye her hair every 5 minutes or so (if called for). Its funny (also she's canonically conventionally attractive). Her eyes are green.

Cat Ears MUST be mute and be unable to sign in some way, those are intentional details. Cannot forget to incorporate kits' ears in some way! Kits' eyes are white.

Charger should have a pretty blocky build, but with his ribs showing (:3). His eyes are orange.

I have no idea what a grapes humie would look like tbh go wild.. Their eyes are black.

Moppy is stick thin, ungodly tall, but his legs are short (hes built like a ferret). His eyes are blue.

Rainbow Streak you can pretty much do whatever with tbh. Their eyes are blue. Remember that they're canonically part viet!

Rollcake is pretty chonky, and bigger than you (or I)'d expect. Her eyes are blue.

Spyglass dresses like a full fledged detective, and tries SOOO hard to act like one (she fails sometimes). Her eyes are purple.

Honestly I really like the idea of Tably centaur.. If you're not doing that, though, it should be HUGE regardless. Its eyes are yellow.

Tablespoon is really small. Her eyes are the same pink as his patterns. Remember that hes canonically part viet!

make icyrose a furry

#qna #the blank crossing #object obstacle course #before you say icyrose is already a furry they're a feral. theres a difference

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konata-the-izumi · 4 months

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// implied lightfan

GOGO GADJET LIGHTNING AND FANNY GIJINKA REF SHEETS1!!21!!1!1!1!1! Plus nationality hcs and some doodles because yes.

——————————

💛💛💛

First off Lightning!1!1!1 ⚡️⚡️⚡️ and yes i headcannon him as French.

Theres literally nothing wrong w/ my gijinka of him, hes literally perfect ahhh 😭😭😭 I LOVE HIM SM RAGGAGHAGAHAGHAJAJAJAHS i might platonically steal him from fanny /JJJJJJ

(NO BUT SERIOUSLY WHY DO I WANNA GIVE MY GIJINKA OF HIM A HUG SO BAD??????????? WHAT?2!2?2?2,2?1,1?,1,1,2?1?1,1,,1?1,1?1,1?1,1?1,,1,1?1,1,??1?1??)

I love him grahhhhhhhhh 💛⚡️✨

heres some side doodles i did of him 💛💛💛

(is it just me or does his face look slightly different here? maybe bc lack of makeup or something but it still looks good either way 🥰🥰🥰)

OMGGGGGGGG 💛💛💛💛💛 *epic fangirling noises*

Oh and also this one thing i can’t remember why i drew it- at least i got to draw my daily dose of lightfan yay

There’s also a couple more side doodles of him that i did but i reserved them for another post 🤫🤫

——————————

💙💙💙

And now for Fanny’s!1!1!1!1 🌀🌀🌀 i hc her as haitian! (fun fact im of haitian descent myself lol)

I’m so glad i finally have a consistent hair texture for her yay. Now one thing I’m currently having trouble drawing consistently is her face. She just looks different averytime i draw her help 😭😭😭 (you’ll see once you get to see the side doodles i did of her, actually i currently have the same problem w/ my ruby gijinka ever since i redesigned her 🥲)

Btw i drew her w/ no face paint this time cause i wanted to actually make her other facial details visible.)

Anyways off to the side doodles (I’m not too proud of these).

i actually tried drawing her w/ different hairstyles (i usually almost never give human characters the same hairstyle or outfits twice lol, but since i had trouble with finding a consistent hair texture for my fanny hummie she was one of the exceptions)

Also this is what i was talking abt when i said i couldn’t draw her face consistently…

OMG WHAT????? FANNY IS SMILING2?!1?2?2!1?1!2?!2?2? (I don’t like this doodle either LMAO, in fact i think it’s my least favourite of all three of them)

And finally small side doodle again

This one is definitely better than the other three lol

I really need to practise drawing my fanny gijinkas face properly or else ill end up with odd results like the latter three-

Anyways that’s all the refs i have for now! I’m working on some for my other character gijinkies as well so stay tuned lol

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goldenfigtree · 9 months

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Summary: This is just a part of a fan fiction that’s still in the works. It’s basically my OC Eden and Leon Kennedy in Venice, Italy trying to follow through with a mission and find themselves without a lead. Eden suddenly has an unexpected idea…

Word Count: 818

Warnings: fluff

There they sat at a booth in the bar, the mosaic windows beaming sharpened shapes of yellow, red, and green. Leon, with his elbow propped on the table and the hand attached to it filled with a fistful of blonde hair. Across from him was Eden, watching him with sympathy. Working with him throughout this mission, it was evident that Leon was hard on himself. And now that their one lead was going for the hills; the both of them felt the constructs of time close in around them like some booby trap from Indiana Jones,

“What are we going to do?” Leon hopelessly mutters, his eyes darting slightly as his mind raced at, no doubt, the highest speeds.

“What we can” Eden responds before leaning in, flattening her palm on the wooden table to catch his attention, “What we must”

“Eden, that was our last chance—”

“No it wasn’t” Eden interrupts while shaking her head, “That wasn’t our last chance, it’s the only chance we know of” she says, her once flattened palm now in a fist as she points at him, “we’ll get this, together” there’s a softness in her tone at the very end of her sentence. The ends of her lips twitched in a smile until “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John began playing on the beat up jukebox across the bar. It was then that her smile broadened, brightened like a sunset. An idea was swirling in her head as she stared at him for a moment. With a small percentage of liquid courage in her, she abruptly gets to her feet and lends out her hand for Leon to take. His head lifts up slowly, his blue eyes still clouded with the fear of the unknown, yet he asks curiously,

“What are you doing?”

“What I must” she says lightheartedly with a shrug, “Come on, trust me with this one” she assures with a twirl of her wrist, still awaiting his hand. Gingerly, he places his much bigger hand into hers and finds himself dragged to the one area without tables and chairs, which was a lame excuse for a dance floor. With swiftness, she places his hand on her waist and her own on his shoulder and takes the lead,

“You can’t be serious” Leon groans quietly, “Eden, we don’t have time for this”

“Oh yes we do” Eden replies firmly, “I’ve always said, in the midst of the spiraling mess find the golden thread”

Leon scoffs as he gives in to swaying along with her, “Meaning?”

“In the midst of hopelessness, there’s still hope. You just have to find it—go where hope is not, ya know, less” she explains matter-of-factly, earning an eye roll from Leon but nevertheless a grin fighting relentlessly to show curling on his lips, “Hence why we are not over there spiraling in a booth and instead enjoying this song on the dance floor. Might I remind you, Leon, that you are dancing with a total catch in Venice, Italy. Not many people get opportunities like this” Eden continues to elaborate, her spunky expressions along with the charming twinkle in her eye only making Leon continue to roll his eyes, only this time bashfully.

“Alright, I get it. Stop and smell the roses” he murmurs, averting his eyes. Nodding her head, her cheeks lift along with her smile,

“Exactly, just try it” Leon still thought it was a stupid idea, but knowing Eden, he had no choice but to give in. At least, just for a little while. Tightening his grip on her waist, he then takes the lead. Moving with much more confidence as he looked into Eden’s eyes, never straying from their gaze. Without thinking, he lets go of her waist and gives her a twirl as the song rang in their ears much more so now than at the booth. Watching her twirl and giggle with glee felt as if she was in slow motion. Suddenly, they were the only two people in the world. It’s only when she meets him back in a waltz that he realizes that she’s humming to the tune, singing the lyrics under her breath. A chuckle of intrigue escapes his lips as he watches her.

How can this woman dance in their moment of crisis?

And how in God’s name did she convince him to join her?

He couldn’t say, but the swell in his chest at her request said it all. The song eventually ended, leaving the two of them alone on the dance floor in silence. Eden, always being the interruption of silence, looks at him hopefully,

“So? Find the golden thread?”

Her twirling on the dance floor merely a few minutes ago flashes in his mind as a small smile forms,

“Yeah, yeah I did”

#Spotify #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #re4r leon

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torrential-rainfall · 2 years

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I love Hummy so much because of this one small scene. (Fun fact Hummy is voiced by Kotono Mitsuishi the Japanese voice actress of Sailor Moon)

#suite precure #hummy #precure #pretty cure #my post

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curelore · 1 month

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yk I feel like the more I look back on suite, the more I love it

idk why, but the town and environment felt so magical to me, and the music, transformations, and attacks are all super fun and catchy too!!

plus (even though the beginning development was a slog) I love how all of the cures in suite feel like they really transformed throughout the series and relied on each other for help in that respect, instead of having just one singular episode where they decide to change in some small way

I love hibiki, kanade, ellen, ako, and hummy's little found family :,) they're all so cute!!

tl;dr, while the beginning can be a bit of a slog with hibiki and kanade navigating their relationship, overall suite is great and more people should give it a chance!!

#lore rabbles #don't mind me suite posting again #heartcatch is still my objective favorite but suite...#its encroaching....#suite precure #suite pretty cure

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hamsters100life · 2 months

Video

youtube

Cute Babies Growing Up 🐹 Hamsters#shorts #hamsterbabies

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ben-miller-art · 2 years

Photo

Hummi

Animal: Hummingbird Sweet: Gummi Level 3 Piñata

This little guy would be super small in game (whirlm size) and I think it'd enjoy a nice hibiscus flower

#my art #viva pinata #vp #Hummi #hummingbird #character design

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grogu-explains-it-all · 2 years

Note

Hi Grogu!

I've started cooking for the holidays and making all kinds of yummy treats. It made me think of you and how I'm sure you would like them. One thing I made was cranberry sauce. Here's a picture for you.

Are you excited to celebrate Thanksgiving with Mama Hazel? Are there any foods you are excited to try? I hope you have a wonderful holiday!

Love,

Wiggles 💕

Hi Wiggles!

That looks good, I helped make cranberry sauce too!!! Mama Hazel has been away and was traveling on Thursday, so I will tell you all about Thanksgiving at Jupiter Cottage!

Remember what I said about Earth and food and special days??

Yeah well, this day about NOTHING but food!! And being Grateful for it.

Well, you said that there are some “problematic issues” around it. BUT if we focus on gratitude for food and not the “Thanksgiving myth” we’d be all right. And you muttered about Colonialism, Pilgrims and no dry turkey on your watch, thank you very much.

I am always focusing on food, ma'am.

See before Dad, I was given food that keeped me alive. And That. Is. It. Then when Dad saved me, we were in the Crest for a loooonnnggg time, guess what? Bone Broth and Ration Bars. BLECH! You know how I feel about drinking bones for crying out loud and Ration Bars are not much of an improvement, people!! But it was better with Dad cuz I knew he was trying, cuz he ate and drank the same stuff.

With Dad, I always ate first.

Here on Earth, we are not running away from bad guys all the time so we get to relax about it, and finding favorite food is like a game for me and Dad! Like you, we LOVE “Big Breakfast”. With the Pancakes, and the maple tree syrups and everything…

ANYWAYS, for Thanksgiving, we did what you said, ignored the Dumb Pilgrim Story and Focused on The Food.

Yesterday you and Dad cut up lots of firewoods for the Big Black Stove. Then you woke up super early to start The Preparation. This seemed like a very big and important deal, so Dad and Me said we will help you, and you said something about too many cooks. WHAT? And shooed us out of the kitchen!! I was shocked by this!! THIS IS WHERE THE FOOD IS! You had never shoo me or Dad anywhere before! Me and Dad did not know WHAT to do about this. Dad told me it is okay and we’d be allowed in the kitchen again. I held his face, WHICH IS NOT COVERED BY A HELMET ANYMORE! But that is another story...

ANYWAYS I asked, Are you sure Father? He did his chuckle and said yes, he was sure.

I think you could hear us being nervous about the status of the kitchen so you came out and said you’d need help in a bit, and me and Dad did a sigh of relief, I tell you ! Then you laughed and asked us to take care of the chickens, and that made me feel much better about this whole situation!

The chickens were SO glad to see me. BUT they were a little nervous about Dad, he is so big in their little house! They made big chicken sounds and Dad made himself small and they calmed down a little. I came over to each one and held their little chicken faces and told them Dad will not hurt them at all. I do not think Eva believed me.

ANYWAYS we gave them their water and their food bits, and then Dad opened their little door, so they can stretch their legs. I do not know why Dad wants everyone to stretch their legs so much. But the hens ran out and started peck pecking at the ground but Dad seemed satisfied. I did not see anyone stretching their legs AT ALL.

After me and Dad came back, everything smelled sooo good! Warm and cozy, good.You said it was the sage and onion. I tried to sneak the pumpkin pie you made yesterday, but you said, I got your number bub. Which means I did not get pie. I did a Dad sigh of sadness and resignment. THEN you told me to look on the table and I found the yummy circles you call munchkings.

Yummy! So I ate those things and got hummy!

Okay so, once you got the Turkey-that-is-not-a-chicken-at-all in the oven, I got to help! You brought me over to the oven, and gave me a big bag of red berries. I got to pour them to the pot, then the sweet sandy stuff! Then you poured in the orange juice. This was hard work and made me thirsty for some of that orange juice. So you gave me a cup and put me in my seat at the table…since I was there I thought I’d have more munchkings.

Then, Dad helped you make bread. You showed how to punch the dough. Which Dad is good at, then, You and Dad got dusty with the flours and laughed a lot.

You know, things changed after Tricks or Treats, your auras got snuggly with each other. There are still bursts and glowing bright, but not zappy shocks and your auras turn green where they touch.

ANYWAYS, you cooked and cooked, we helped and helped. And then finally we got to eat it all!!

Smooshed potatoes AND sweet potatoes! I liked them A LOT! It turns out that there is a lot of butter involved in Thanksgiving. Which is right!

The turkey was not dry, thank you very much, just like you said and I ate a whole leg!! Plus Also we had your favorite, which is your great grandma’s stuffing, I guess this is apparently what made her so great, cuz yummy!!

After I ate lots and lots of bread and meat and many kinds of potato you said have at least one string bean, for GOODNESS SAKE, so I did. And it was pretty good because cheese was there, so I ate two. But I wanted more potato food. And the bread.

Dad was eating and he made lots of yummy sounds and you told him his bread was wonderful and he said it was but because of you… okay, you two. Pass the butter, Father, if you please!

Soon, we stopped eating because we were so full of food we could hardly move. I did not know this was a thing that happens! So you turned on your records playing thing for music. And we all just laid around on the floor and we listen to a guy sing about a lady named Alice and her restaurant and he telled a story about Thanksgiving and improper garbage disposal.

FINALLY, I got to eat the pumpkin pie as soon as I could feel a little spot in my tummy it could fit! It was very good!

And that is the story of how we had a Thanksgiving dinner that could not be beat, just like that singing guy said. But we did not dump a half a ton of garbage anywhere! Because WHO DOES THAT?

#ask grogu #grogu explains it all #grogu at thanksgiving #food

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myheartisafish · 2 years

Text

DEAR AMERICA: The book series most beloved by Weird Little Girls everywhere, because the volumes came with a ribbon in them. “I am surely holding a priceless volume of historical significance,” you say to yourself, stroking the spine while sitting under the playground at recess. When you go home, you resolve to write your own Diary, but forget to keep writing in it after one entry.

What I personally remember about these books is that they were surprisingly gruesome. American Girl these are not. These girls are BEATEN DOWN. They are SUFFERING. So I thought I’d read them and compare them for overall gruesomeness.

The first volume of the series is the Diary of Remember Patience Whipple, and is written by Kathyrn Lasky, who is most well known for writing the Guardians of Ga’Hoole books. It’s a small world, I guess.

Our protagonist is nicknamed ‘Mem,’ and she shortly gives her Diary the nickname of ‘Imp,’ standing for ‘Impatience,’ as a little play on her own name, which she feels doesn’t suit her. We meet her as she is already on the Mayflower.

Mem has a best friend nicknamed Hummy, which is short for Humility. Mem tells us in a not-gay way that Hummy has a ‘dear little face.’

We also meet Will B. who is another friend of theirs, and also just an all around great guy, who’s great with kids. Too bad he’s a servant.

So everyone immediately gets sick, and the first 25% of the book is essentially descriptions of people puking and shitting and coughing blood and so on. This is all fine, because at least Mem has her two best friends, Hummy and Will B..

Even though Will B. is feeling poorly lately.

Will B. dies and his body is thrown overboard.

But at least she has Hummy! And her Mam, who’s a great person, and speaks up, even though she’s a woman.

So we end up at Plymoth, and they have about enough time to build one building before everyone gets sick again, and this part of the book is basically Mem describing the tragic death scenes of various people whilst their family members clutch their hands and so on. A standout is probably the wife who, when her husband dies, lies down beside him, gives birth right there next to his dead body, shows his dead body the baby, then the baby dies too!

At least Mem has Hummy, though! And her Mam.

Although Mam is feeling poorly lately.

Somewhere in here we get the accounts of the first Native Americans they interact with, and we learn that Mem loves Native Americans. In fact, she thinks the Pilgrims and the Native Americans should just all get along! Hooray! And even better, a treaty is worked out so the Pilgrims and Native Americans will all get along forever! I think that’ll end well.

Then we get Thanksgiving! Hooray!!

But with all of this excitement about Native Americans, you say, have we forgotten about her Mam? Wasn’t she sick?

Yes, her Mam was sick. And also dead. She dies. She’s dead.

At least Mem has Hummy!

Nope, Hummy’s father takes her back with him when the Mayflower leaves, because he misses his dead wife’s grave in England. In fact, he missed his dead wife so much he was going around to dying people and whispering in their ears to tell his wife he would join her soon, which isn’t ominous at all. Mem and Hummy have a tearful goodbye where Hummy promises to return in any way possible, even as an indentured servant.

Then Mem is so depressed she doesn’t write in her diary for a while, and when she comes back we learn that soon there will be a ship returning from England!! Will Hummy be on the ship??

According to the epilogue: No. Hummy is not on the ship. In fact, Mem and Hummy never meet again.

The end.

Ratings:

Death Toll: 9/10 half their colony dies

Overall Gruesomeness: 4/10. I remember other books in this series being much worse.

#personal #dear america #middle grade #children's lit #this idea took like 2 and a half hours of my evening to execute #but i cant say it was an evening misspent

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smuggsy · 3 years

Text

Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

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