#cot organiser

[mandoalorian]

delicate

Pairing: High honour Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Summary: When Arthur and the gang are out in Valentine, you can’t help but notice that he left his journal by his bedside, unattended. You’re aware that Arthur is never careless enough to leave something so valuable to him in camp and see you see it as an opportunity. Upon reading his journal, you discover something that changes everything…

Word count: 2,000

Author’s note: My first Arthur fic! It’s been a long time coming. This is also cross-posted on my AO3. I do not consent to my fics being posted anywhere else, or translated without permission. If you enjoyed this fic please reblog as it helps increase support!<3

Masterlist 

You saw it as an opportunity.

Arthur, John, Micah, Javier and Sadie were out in Valentine, following Dutch’s well-convoluted plan to rob the local bank. They’d been gone for three hours already and with Micah part of the team, you dreaded to think how they were getting on. Dutch and Hosea had gone to scout out a manor northwest of Lemoyne, in Scarlet Meadows. Hosea was following a lead he’d heard from a guy at Emerald Ranch – that apparently, a well-off family were residing over there. An excellent opportunity for a cash grab, Dutch was also sure. Lately, any possibility of getting money, Dutch got excited over. You didn’t understand why because the ledger appeared more filled out than ever. Perhaps it was merely nothing more than a sin of greed, although you were in no position to question it. 

Mary-Beth, Tilly and Karen were doing laundry as Miss Grimshaw supervised, and Miss Molly O’Shea was napping in Dutch’s cot. She’d been sleeping a lot recently, you’d noticed. Uncle was nowhere in sight, probably sleeping or drunk or getting himself killed by Raiders. And Abigail was with Jack, nursing him back to health as influenza he’d developed after your time in Colter hadn’t yet subsided. The camp was empty. Not a soul in sight.

There was a small crate in the corner of his tent and organised neatly atop was a framed photo of his mother Beatrice, a small vase of flowers that were native to New Hanover, and a beat-up leather journal that he kept close to his bedside. Arthur was so protective of his journal, you’d often tease him for it. Sometimes, you’d admire him from afar. After a hard day, he’d often sit by the lake, slumped against a tree, jotting down his thoughts or filling the pages with doodles of his ventures. 

And this time it was calling out to you.

You wondered why he hadn’t taken it with him. Had he really just ‘left’ it at camp? Forgot to put it in his satchel before he left this morning? You were hyper-aware that you’d more than likely never get this chance again. The curiosity was begging to be explored and you took one final glance around camp before slowly inching towards the crate by his bedside. Arthur’s tent was really just a canopy and once you were under you felt a pang of guilt in his heart. You shouldn’t be snooping around his business like this. He had done nothing to warrant you doing that.

It wasn’t malicious. It was harmless. Just a little peek…

You sat on the edge of Arthur’s cot and picked up the journal, feeling the worn leather between your fingers. Undoing the clasp, you pulled it open midway and were greeted with an illustration of a girl. It was the back of her, so there was no way of making out her face, but as you took a closer look at the pattern on her ranch boots, you couldn’t help but recognise the embroidered swirls and shapes. They were your ranch boots, and Arthur’s illustration was a depiction of you. It was dated noon, 5th July 1899, just a few weeks ago. It appeared to be a drawing from observation, and you were pictured helping Pearson put away an assortment of canned goods. 

It took a moment for it to dawn on you. He’d drawn you.

Now you were invested. You turned to the next page to see a verse of words:

‘Sometimes I wonder when she sleeps

Is she ever dreaming of me?

Sometimes when I look into her eyes

I pretend she’s mine all the damn time’

To the left of the words was another illustration of you but this one had a lot more detail. A delicate flower was placed in your hair and this time, you could see your face. You could see the shape of your nose and the creases in the corner of your eyes when you smiled. It had never been so clear. Your gaze flicked back towards the words as you reread them over and over again. Could they have really been about you?

Surely not. Arthur had never done anything to suggest that he’d had these feelings for you. As far as you were aware, he was still hung up on Miss Mary Linton. You’d never met her before. You’d only heard tales from Hosea, how Arthur was sweet on her and she broke his heart to the point he didn’t want to leave camp for days. You couldn’t imagine Arthur that way. You supposed that since then, he had changed, and maybe since meeting you, he’d changed again.

On the outside, Arthur was rough. His skin was sun kissed and his clothes were old, his boots were muddy and he could go months without shaving. You’d heard stories of his questionable temperance but with you, he was patient and soft and gentle. You’d seen him be kind around little Jack too, and that relationship spoke volumes since John was mostly absent from his son’s life. Arthur was a good influence on Jack. Hell, you could argue he was the best influence around camp in general. Although he was often gloomy and he would, on occasion, pick fights with Micah or Bill, you saw through that. He had a good heart, wether he believed it, that didn’t matter.

A loud cough interrupted your thoughts. You froze, and it was like you could feel time moving. Arthur’s journal was still in your hands and you could feel the eyes of a cowboy bore into your back. You hoped and prayed it was anyone but Arthur. At least then you’d be able to potentially mangle yourself out of the fact you went behind your friend’s back. You wanted to put the journal down, hell, you needed to, but it was like your feet were glued to the ground and your hands were locked in place.

“What you doing snooping through my stuff, girl?” 

Oh, it was Arthur. You winced under his question and took a deep breath. You carefully placed the journal back on his bedside, just as it was before you took it. Perfect. Like it hadn’t moved an inch. Not that it mattered anymore…

“Well?”

Fuck. You cursed under your breath. Say something. Anything.

“Arthur-I’m-so-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-I-was-thinking-I-just-saw-it-there-and-you-always-got-your-head-down-in-it-and-never-show-anyone-and-I-was-just-curious-and-I-know-it-was-wrong-but-I-just-“

“Now, why you talkin’ like that? Like I’m holdin’ you up at gunpoint? Turn around and look at me.” He cut you off, his question was rhetorical and his voice stern.

You immediately obliged and spun around on your heel. Your stomach was in knots. You wish you had never looked. Never betrayed him like this. Arthur’s eyes were a piercing blue like you’d never noticed, and his lips were curled into a frown. But still, he remained stoic. It’s like he was trying to appear unbothered, but you could see right through him.

“You know now why I let nobody look in here?” Arthur muttered, leaning over you and snatching the journal from his bedside.

You nodded apologetically and watched as he stuffed the journal into his satchel.

“I’ll be on my way now.” Arthur tipped his hat to you before turning around. He paused and when he was looking away he muttered, “’Am sorry if… you thought it was weird, miss…” 

Your mouth felt dry as you watched him walk away.

Weird? He was worried that you thought it was weird.

You chased after him and caught up pretty quickly, placing the palm of your hand flat against the broadness of his back. “Arthur, what you wrote in there was the sweetest thing… not weird at all, I promise.”

Arthur stopped and looked down at you, still frowning. 

“I just had no idea you felt that way,” You continued, shaking your head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I overstepped your boundaries and we can just forget about it if that’s what you want…”

To clarify, forgetting about it was the last thing you wanted to do, but alas, this wasn’t about you anymore. You would do anything for Arthur’s forgiveness and if that meant pretending like today never happened, then so be it.

“Forget?” Arthur whispered. “You really expect me to forget about this?”

You pursed your lips together, holding back a sigh. “I don’t think you should. I know I’d struggle to forget what I saw in there… but also, I don’t want to forget. I… I’ve been sweet on you since the moment I met you, Arthur. Tilly and Mary-Beth would always tease me for it. Abigail knew too, but she said you’d never be interested in pursuing someone in camp. Hosea made it seem like you were still hung up on Miss Linton, and so I never said anything. Oh Arthur, you’ve always been so kind to me. So gentle and soft, you’re different to the others…” You placed a hand on his bicep and Arthur practically softened into your touch.

“I’m a bad man,” Arthur shook his head gruffly. “I’ve done bad things.”

“Haven’t we all?” you snapped back, exasperated. “I may just do the chores around camp but you forget my history, Mr Morgan. All of us are Van Der Linde’s and we are not good people. Hell, I struggle to even tell the difference between good and bad anymore. But when I’m with you, I feel good. Really good. I feel safe and protected and God, Arthur. When I saw you felt the same way… that you think about me in the same way…”

Arthur cut you off with a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and contrasted with the roughness of his stubble and quick-growing moustache. You let out a small gasp when his lips crashed atop yours but quickly melted into it, bringing your hands up to his head and running your fingers through his dark blonde hair. His tongue tasted like fresh mint and other herbs you couldn’t quite recognise, and you had never been closer to his musky familiar scent. Arthur’s big arms wrapped around your body and he held you tight against him. When he finally pulled away, he nudged his nose against yours and lingered for a moment, staring into your eyes.

“Forgive me for saying miss, but if it wasn’t already clear, I think I’m in love with you.”

The revelation made you giddy, your heart racing in your chest with the thrill of it all. You couldn’t believe it. Abigail…. Hosea…. They were all wrong. Arthur actually felt the same as you.

“I’m in love with you too,” you squeaked, tears filling your eyes as Arthur enveloped you in a hug.

When you finally pulled away from him, it was only to ask him another important question.

“Do you forgive me for what I did, Arthur?” you asked him sadly. Arthur could see the guilt; it was written all over your face.

“If you didn’t do that, none of this would have ever happened,” Arthur smiled, pressing his index finger to your chin and picking your face up so you were looking at him in the eyes. He was smiling. He was okay…

“I s’pose that’s true,” you shrugged. “I’m still sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

“I believe you,” Arthur said, lacing his fingers with yours. “Now let’s go grab some of Pearson’s broth and we can take it to the lake. I think we have a lot to talk about…”

You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up. You and Arthur walked side by side to the campfire and the entire way you felt yourself bubbling with anticipation over what was to come next.

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x you #red dead redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan fanfic #John martson #dutch van der linde

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {13}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando is still struggling with his anxiety and it seems to only grows with time as he tried to balance work and parenting. Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort, mentions of dad!PND WC: 3.4K

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Lando grumbled as you sat in bed, your laptop screen filled with his image. The bright late afternoon sun was streaming through the window in your room but it was night where Lando was in Miami. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. I can’t concentrate on the race because I’m thinking about you two, and I can’t be at home because of the race…I hate this.”

 “I don’t know if it's easier, but I guess it will become a new normal in time. We’ll be with you at the next three races, just have to make it through this one.”

“I need this two week break to hurry up and arrive. I just need to be able to go to put Ren to bed and tuck her in,” startled cries sounded from the cot across the room as Renleigh woke from her nap, “and I need to be there to pick her up when she cries. I think I’m going out of my mind.”

The catch in his voice broke your heart and you grabbed your phone off the bedside so you could message Max. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take away the hurt you’re feeling, Lan. I don’t want you to be alone so Max is getting on the first flight he can. And before you argue, he is happy to do it. We are both worried about you, babe.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t need Max, I need my family.” He dropped his chin onto his hand with a sigh. 

“I’m just a phone call away, day or night. But if you want snuggles, Max will have to do for a few more nights.” 

You left the laptop for a moment so you could reach into the cot and bring Ren over to see her daddy, waving her little hand to the camera. A smile finally graced his lips as he waved back and leaned closer to the screen to kiss his camera. 

Placing her on the bed, you both watched her try to crawl towards Lando. “That’s it, my girl,” he praised as she rocked forward before face planting into the soft blankets. “Getting there, you’ll be racing around in no time.”

“Speaking of racing, you should be getting ready for bed,” you reminded him gently. “Max will be there in the morning to keep you company and you know you can talk to him about anything.”

“You make it sound like I need counselling,” he joked but it fell flat when you shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it’s just…your job is already so stressful, then the addition of a baby…it’s a big change and it’s alright to admit that. Dads can get PND too.” 

“Really?” His brows pinched together as he fell silent. 

“Even if you are fine, I think talking to someone else might still help. Remember when you got me to go to counselling? You said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and it isn’t.”

He didn’t look convinced as he muttered, “yeah, maybe.”

“Just think about it,” you suggested as he started to yawn. “And get some rest, babe. I love you.”

You felt like you had come out of hibernation as you sat beside Lando, your fingers entwined as he drove to Imola. Since giving birth you had hardly travelled anywhere, opting to keep Renleigh’s arrival private, so everyone close enough to know about her came to your house to visit her. That would all change on Sunday and to say you were nervous was the mother of all understatements.

Your stomach was tied up in knots just thinking about trying to navigate the busy paddock with your precious baby. Lando had already organised plenty of security to escort you everywhere but your overthinking and paranoia whispered that there were still so many things that could go wrong. It lingered even when you tried to focus on the here and now.

The radio played quietly in the background but it was Ren that you listened to, her babbling in response to Lando’s chattering keeping you both entertained and distracted. You turned in the seat to see her smile in the small mirror and her papaya socks kicking in the air.

“Someone is excited to make her debut,” Lando said with a chuckle. He gripped the wheel with one hand and the other came to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn’t holding some part of you since his return, needing the comfort of your touch to ground himself and suppress his growing anxiety. 

This was the most relaxed he had been in months and you smiled back at him, grateful that your husband was returning to his old self. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a nervous laugh between glances as he drove.

“Do you ever just stop and think ‘I have never been happier than I am at this moment’?” you asked as you traced the beauty spots that dotted his arm like a constellation of stars that would always lead you home. “It’s almost painful how happy I am right now, like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, reaching up to stroke your cheek before concentrating back on the road. “That was me this morning, well, every morning I wake up beside you. Seeing the sunlight catch your hair, the peace on your face when you bury it in my neck and snore.”

Ren’s arms startled into the air at the sudden laugh you barked and Lando’s grin grew at the sound of pure, unfiltered joy. “That was almost romantic! You were so close to a blowjob, until you lied.”

“You do snore, and it’s cute!” he stated seriously before casting you a sly smile. “So about that blowjob…”

You leaned over the console and kissed the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the curve to his ear. “Tell me I snore one more time.” He clamped his lips closed and you smirked as you sat back in the seat. “Smart man.”

Lando put the car in park and turned the engine off but made no move to open the door as he sat quietly with his hands still on the wheel. His qualifying had gone great the day before and he was starting the race in P3 but the race was far from his mind as he looked at the high fence ahead, knowing the circuit was just on the other side.

“What if we are doing the wrong thing?”

“Lan, we can’t keep her bubble wrapped for the rest of her life. And we are going to make mistakes, that’s just a fact, but there’s only one way to find out.” You looked out the window and saw a group of men wearing McLaren shirts that showed off their large muscles. “Your papaya army has arrived, and they bought the big guns too.”

Lando snorted and relaxed a little, though the wariness never left his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around yours and he placed his other hand protectively over Renleigh’s back. He had debated putting her into the stroller that remained folded up in the car boot but the need to keep her close made him strap the front pack to his chest. Every few steps his head would dip down and he would place a tender kiss to the top of her head, whispering soothing words that were more for himself than her.

“What’s the weather forecast?” you asked as you tipped your head back to the skies and wondered if you had imagined the kiss of raindrop on your skin. 

“Chance of rain, but it should only be light.” He took a look around himself and narrowed his eyes at the grey clouds on the horizon before picking up the pace a little. His quick walk stalled when he reached the paddock gates and patted his pockets for his pass to scan and swore under his breath. 

“Looking for this?” you teased as you pulled his pass out of your pocket along with yours. 

“Have I told you how much I missed having you here?” he said as he took his pass and scanned it, his photo popping up on the little screen before he stepped through the barrier. 

“You may have mentioned it once or twice. Is Maria here already?”

Lando nodded, mentioning he had messaged her earlier and she had already arrived at the track with Zak. 

“Maybe grand-mere can look after you for a little while,” you whispered as you tickled Ren’s feet through her socks. “Then mummy and daddy can sneak off to his room for a few minutes.”

 “Minutes?” Lando scoffed at the insult and you grinned knowing his competitive side was coming out despite the fact the man’s stamina was far longer.

“If you want to prove me wrong…”

“I’ve done that multiple times a day, for the last two weeks, love,” he smirked as he whispered in your ear as you walked along. “But if your memory is that bad, I’m sure I can remind you.”

Your reply was lost as a huge swell of people came into view through the gaps in the wall of muscle ahead, the chaotic screams suddenly piercing the air as Lando was spotted by the crowd. Your mouth was still parted in shock but the sound of a shaky breath didn’t come from your lips. 

“Can we get to the garage, please?” you asked the head of security and he nodded, just as eager to make it through the mass of people. 

As effortless as Lando made it seem, he was never truly comfortable in large crowds and the birth of his daughter had only increased his social anxiety. You could feel it now as his palm heated against yours, his skin clammy and grip tightening to an almost painful hold. He was using you to anchor himself and fight back the panic so you bit the inside of your cheek and let him crush your hand.

“Almost there, baby,” you soothed as the men moved to the shape of an arrow that speared the crowd apart. 

Cameras flashed and fans screamed as they spotted the baby tucked into Lando’s chest, just the brown tufts of her curls visible. Those too were hidden as Lando cupped the back of her head and hummed a sweet lullaby to distract himself from the questions thrown his way. There was no way he could bring himself to stop and answer any of them until Ren was safely in the McLaren area, he couldn’t risk her safety among the strangers. It was only when he caught sight of the grey and orange coloured motorhome that he could muster up the courage to slip his hand away from yours and offer a small wave. 

The fear and reservations you had held never had time to surface while you focused on Lando but when you passed the doors and the outside world was silenced you finally breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, Lan.”

“I don’t like this,” he admitted as he continued to his driver room. A bassinet was already set up with McLaren blankets and it made his lips twitch into an almost smile as you helped him to take Ren out of the front pack. “I can’t believe she slept through all that.”

He placed her into the bassinet and tucked her in while you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until she woke up for a feed as a heaviness ached in your breasts so you had to make the most of the quiet moments while you could, dragging Lando to the couch and forcing him to sit down. 

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?” you asked as you combed your fingers through his hair and tugged the stands so he looked at you. “Talk to me.”

“I thought having you both here would be easier, but I still feel sick,” he admitted after a minute of drawn out silence. “I need you here, don’t get me wrong, I hated being away from you but now I can't…I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You waited patiently for him to collate his thoughts, holding his hand while he watched Ren sleep peacefully. He longed for that peacefulness too.

“Infinite possibilities, it’s something Andrea gets us to think about when we race. One move can make a difference, one millimetre off the line could be the difference between the fastest lap or ending up in the gravel. Every action has an infinite amount of possibilities and it’s my job to figure out which is most likely to happen.” He took a deep breath from his quiet ramblings and exhaled a long sigh as he slowed down his words. “I can’t stop thinking about the infinite possibilities with Ren. Every bad thing that could happen, everything that could go wrong, I see it in my head. All. The. Time. I can’t stop.”

His words died out with a sob and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace as he fell apart. This was the moment you had been expecting, though it was still gut wrenching to witness. All the ups and downs this season had been leading to one cataclysmic peak where he had to release the pent up thoughts he had tried to suppress.

“Do you remember that day at Silverstone, the first time I came back to the paddock?” You knew he was listening by the way he held his breath to silence the sobs that jolted his shoulders. Rubbing his back softly, you kissed his temple and stared at the poster on the wall, seeing how much his face had matured in the last four years.

“When I sat in your room alone it was like time stood still. I had so much time to think that I imagined every horror scenario of you and your car and that fear made my stomach turn. I couldn’t eat anything all day,” you admitted as he pulled back with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. “But the moment I saw you napping in the cockpit of your car I could finally think again. Not a single one of those scenarios came close to what was actually happening in that moment.”

You wiped his eyes and cupped his face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter that there’s endless possibilities for how the future might go, Lando. All that matters is this moment, and wasting time thinking about things that may never even happen only makes us miss out on today.”

“You aren’t scared we are making the wrong decisions?”

“Of course I’m scared, babe. But I know the man I married and I know that the decisions we make, whether they are right or wrong, come from a good place.” You placed a hand over his heart, feeling the bump under his shirt of the necklace he wore for Ren. “That’s the best any parent can hope for.”

His hand came to rest over yours for a moment before he lifted it to his lips and kissed your wedding ring. “I need to go but I’ll be back before the race starts.”

You nodded as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face, looking clear headed and calm once more. “Are you alright?” you asked as he started to undress and grab his fireproofs from the closet.

He pulled the skin tight material over his head and looked at your reflection in the mirror. “No, but I will be.”

The honesty was more relieving despite his words and you were glad he hadn’t just lied and said he was fine.

With a small smile, he leaned into the bassinet and kissed Ren’s cheek. “I love you, little lady, more than anything in this whole wide world.”

Five years after Imola had stolen your breath away, it had done it again. This time your voice was hoarse from the screams of support and happiness as Lando won the race.

It was as if all the tears ever shed at the circuit were released from the heavens to cascade upon the track with only three laps to go. Max and Charles had just passed the pit entrance before the deluge fell but Lando had made the split second decision to box and change to full wets. He had quickly caught up with the better grip and took the lead when they pitted on the next lap.

You hadn’t been able to move from where you stood rooted on the balcony in front of the home straight. Lando had always been able to dance in the rain, making his car sing in harmony to the beat of the drops on the blacktop. This was his element, but every turn gave you heart palpitations.

Yellow flags flew as some drivers tried their luck with their slicks, praying the rain would pass, only to spin out when they hit a puddle. One rookie aquaplaned off the track, leaving tire ruts in the grass, before rejoining the track and you gasped as Lando had to swerve to avoid him.

“We saw there was a close call on that final turn. How stressful was that?”

“It was scary, so scary. Knowing that my wife was watching just ahead, and seeing that car come right in front of me…my wife and my daughter, they were all I could think about. It’s so wet out there, turn too quick and there’s just no grip, nothing to keep me on the track. I was certain I was gone when that car came at me.”

Lando brushed his cap off and combed his hair as his lips pressed tight to hide the tremble. “It was so scary. You just have no idea what it’s like in those split seconds where you react on instinct and don’t know if you have just saved your life or forfeited it. It’s a risk, and I used to find it fun when I was younger but not now. I have too much to risk now.”

You cradled Ren closer as the McLaren team let you through to the front of the barrier. You hadn’t planned on stepping out of the motorhome but Lando was clearly not okay and you needed to get to him.

“It’s hard to be excited over winning when I thought I had just about made my wife a widow again, or that my daughter was going to grow up and not know me,” he said, answering another question that you had missed as you navigated your way out of the garage. “As much as I love this sport, and I am grateful for all the people who have helped me to get to where I am, I love my family more.”

He seemed to sense you in the crowd and Renleigh started to cry in your arms as you reached the barrier. The reporter followed him as he crossed the short distance and pressed his sweaty forehead to yours. “I’m going to be alright,” he whispered for only you to hear before he took Ren, who instantly settled on his shoulder, as the crowd ‘awww’d at the sight.

“I have been thinking hard about this for the last few months,” he continued as he gently bounced Ren back to sleep, “but this will be my last season in Formula One. I have always put 100% into what means the most to me and I haven’t been able to do that with racing taking me away from my family.”

The shock that rippled through the crowd and stunned the reporter into silence didn’t reach you. You had seen the look in his eyes when he parked in front of the 1st place signage and pulled his helmet off. He hadn’t thrown his hands in the air, he hadn’t waved to the crowd or his team. He had fallen to his knees and ripped his gloves off to feel the solid ground beneath his palms as the rain continued to fall.

The microphone shifted to you as you watched Lando hold Ren tighter and brush his lips over her dark curls. “It must have been harrowing to watch that last lap, especially since it wasn’t far from where you laid a wreath earlier today.”

“I trust every decision Lando makes. I knew he would make it through,” you said with a reassuring smile to your husband as you clutched the necklace that held your first wedding ring. “And every year when I visit I ask René to watch over him. Maybe he was listening all this time.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

[ecoamerica]

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[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black fem!reader

summary: it has been a dream to have the perfect family but a nightmare occurs and you question the love you receive.

warnings: angst, mentions of death, descriptions of pain, loads of crying.

saint’s team radio 🎀: we’re getting sad with this one!! buckle up and thank you anon for requesting this! <3 sorry for any typos!

tags: @non-stop-imagines @arshiyuh @queenshikongo3 @mauvecherie-writes @lorarri @goldsainz @exotic-iris13 @alika-4466 @yeea-nah

pls like, reblog and comment! 🤍

The nursery was filled with so many gifts from the baby shower that you felt tired just at the thought of organising it all.

Looking up at the wall, her name was painted in light pink paint with cursive that you insisted would make you smile. Her cot was filled to the brim with stuffed animals that you guaranteed would last her a lifetime and just at the thought of your little princess entering the world in six months made you rub your belly with happiness, feeling her slightly kick as if to say “Hello.”

Oh you could just remember the exact moment you found out you were pregnant, the look on Lewis’ face was filled with love and adoration. Thanking you for bearing your child, the start of the family the both of you had been dreaming about. The gender reveal was celebrated intimately, the simple slice of the cake revealing the pink sponge cake within, the tears overflowing at the thought of you having a baby girl. The world finding out that you were expecting a picture of the slice of cake with a little onesie next to it, causing a frenzy at the sight of the 8 time world champion and his wife celebrating a new life soon.

The memories were as sweet as can be, Lewis being there every step of the way. He would panic when you weren’t by his side during race weekends but he knew you were in the comfort of your family and friends and that you were loved beyond measure. His love towards you was always growing stronger every day, his excitement for his family had always caused butterflies in his stomach. He hugged you every chance he got, he spoke to your pregnant belly with the softest of voices and your heart swelled up.

You were both more than ready to begin parenthood with each other.

Sitting down on the couch with a few groans, you reached for the remote whilst Lewis was in the kitchen making an afternoon snack. It was a chill afternoon, a few phone calls from your friends here and there but it was spent in the comfort of your home. You carefully placed your braids into a bun and in that moment, you felt a slight cramp around your womb. Taking it as a sign that you were most likely dehydrated, you stood up to get a glass of water.

“Babe, are you okay? D’you need help?” Lewis asked, slowing down his chopping up of fruits to watch you walk into the kitchen. “Yeah I’m good. Just felt a normal pain. Don’t stress.” You reassured him, walking quite slowly as you felt the pain coming back.

You managed to make it to the island when the pain hit you stronger than before causing you to hold onto the marble surface, your legs weakening as you continued to stand. “Y/n, let’s sit you down. I’ll get whatever you need.” Lewis said, coming around his side of the island to help you sit down but you waved him off, barely able to construct a coherent sentence.

“Please.” You managed to let out before groaning loudly, holding onto your swollen belly. He was stressing out, holding onto your hands as he began to guide you towards the couch. One step out, you let out a scream of pain, your legs giving out on you but Lewis was there to catch you. Now carrying you onto the couch, he gathered all the cushions to make you a little comfortable.

“I think I’ll go get the car ready for the hospital.” He said, holding onto your face as tears rolled down in every direction. One hand on your belly and the other on his hand, you cried out in pain. “She’s n-not moving, Lew.” You croaked out, the worst thoughts filling your mind. Was your baby okay? Could she feel the pain that you were experiencing.”

“No, my angel. Don’t say that, please don’t say that. She’s okay, our baby is okay.” Tears filled Lewis’ eyes as he tried to convince himself and you that all was okay. Your eyes were squeezed shut as the pain spread across your lower waist, your hips aching. He looked all over your body for any signs of shaking and once his eyes got to the crotch of your white cotton pants, his heart dropped. Blood slowly spread and he didn’t want to think of that. Nothing could’ve prepared him to experience this. You both have done everything by the book, everything to keep your little princess safe.

Lewis couldn’t think of the worst. Maybe these pants had been this stain for a while but he knows better than anyone that you would know of any stain on any of your clothing. He was panicking, he was stressed. He couldn’t let this happen, not after the both of you had been dreaming of your own family.

He grabbed the nearest car keys and picked you up bridal style once again and carefully rushed you to the large enough car, laying you down onto the backseat as he rushed back inside to get your hospital bag and both of your phones. Everything was a blur, driving off to the nearest hospital, keeping the ac cold so that you could stay awake. Calling your mom to let her know, not wanting her panic but still warned her along with his mom.

Rushed you into emergency. Parked the car. Watched you roll away on a stretcher, barely awake but your hands still held onto your belly. 40 minutes. In that moment, your mother arrived and so did his. Your best friend arrived and so did his. Your younger sister gathering her tears and carried one of your baby’s stuffed animals as a source of comfort. Everyone was waiting in the waiting room, trying to console Lewis but he wanted to be as calm as he could be. For your sake.

Dr Watts, your paediatrician, rounded the corner of the waiting room with a tissue patting her tears as she stuffed it into her scrubs. She had made eye contact with Lewis and right in that moment, he knew.

“Uhm everyone, Y/n unfortunately suffered a miscarriage. We had to extract the baby from her womb, it was internal bleeding from the womb and I will let the father of the baby know of other information.” She sniffled. Dr Watts had been helping you throughout your pregnancy, how excited you were for motherhood and seeing that being taken away from you was heartbreaking.

“Does she know?” Your mom spoke up, rubbing Lewis’s shoulders as his head was in his hands. Shaking her head, the paediatrician spoke up. “Y/n is very close to waking up. Two people can be in the room with her.”

The walk to your hospital room was dreadful, everyone else staying behind to let you and Lewis have this moment together. Your eyelids felt heavy but you still managed to keep them open, your husband holding your hand with drips connected to it. His eyes looked empty, only moving to look at you with a look you couldn’t quite grasp. Watts gathered up the courage to tell you the bad news, your stomach dropping at the moment you heard that she had already let your body.

“I killed my own creation.” You whispered but Lewis heard you and immediately shook his head. “Sweetheat, it is not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself, I’m begging.” He tried to help but he had very little strength in him as well. “She’s gone forever. I caused her to leave. I walked around and ruined everything.” You rasped out.

It was inevitable that you were going to blame yourself. Your bump slowly started falling as you cried to yourself all night. You chased everyone out, keeping your hand encased in Lewis’ as he cried alongside you.

Once discharged from the hospital, you felt suffocated by your thoughts. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, not even the doctor and not even Lewis who was losing his mind over you going non-verbal. He knew you made your late daughter your entire life and to see the light get sucked out of you was heart-wrenching. You reached home and sat in the nursery with him, crying your heart out but still refusing to speak. You slept there for most of the week after, you ate there and one night, you faced Lewis.

“I’m sorry.” You spoke softly as you leaned over to hug him. Without hesitation, he welcomed you into his arms and you felt the love he was giving within your soul. You now knew you were loved beyond words when you were around him. “Don’t be sorry, I’ve got you forever.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead and slightly tightening his hold on you.

saint speaks: omg y’all i cried while writing this, hope y’all enjoyed!

#saint writes #celebrating 600 with saint! #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton angst #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #SoundCloud

[lulublack90]

Prompt 9 - Movie

@jegulus-microfic February 9 Word count 980

Previous part First part

Regulus woke in relative comfort. His wounds had all been healed, and he’d been allowed to sleep. 

His hair was moving strangely, though. He craned his head to get a better look.

James Potter was absentmindedly trailing his fingers through Regulus’s hair.

“Hi,” His voice was cracked and raw. But it was still understandable. James jumped. He hadn’t realised Regulus had woken up.

“Oh, hi. How are you feeling?” James asked, already scanning Regulus for signs of pain. 

“Good. My skin feels a bit tight where the cuts were, but I’m sure that will go away once everything’s fully healed.” James nodded in agreement. 

“Oh, I’m supposed to let them know when you wake up.” James pulled out his wand and cast the patronus charm. A huge regal stag shot out of his wand, casting them in its eerie blue light. “Tell Frank that Reg is awake,” James told the ghostly creature. It galloped away through the wall, and a moment later, they could hear footsteps crossing the floor above them.

Mad-Eye Moody came through the door, glowering at the reclining Regulus. Regulus put all his energy into not recoiling at the sight of him. He refused to give him that satisfaction. 

“I need details, and I need names.” Moody barked at him, getting straight to the point. Regulus appreciated that. He didn’t have the patience for niceties. “And you, I don’t want a peep out of you if I allow you to stay.” He ordered, narrowing his eyes at James. 

“Yes, Mad-Eye. I promise.” Moody looked at the cot Regulus had been sleeping on and waved his wand. Regulus was levitated into the air, and he watched as the cot transformed back into the chair it had been the previous day. He was lowered onto it. Then, the chair scooted itself forward until Regulus was at the table. 

Moody took a scroll of parchment and a quill from his robes and set them on the table. He then looked at Regulus pointedly, waiting for him to begin. 

“I don’t know how.” He stated but added when Moody glared at him, demanding more. “As far as I’m aware, those orders are being left until the last minute. So there are no leaks.”

“Does he think he has a spy in his organisation?” Moody interrupted him. His deeply scared face revealed nothing. 

“I’m not sure. He’s been keeping important information close to his chest more so than usual.”

“Alright. Names?” Moody moved the questioning on, clearly deciding that Regulus didn’t have anything else to offer about the actual attack. 

“Malfoy,”

“Which one?”

“Both.” Moody nodded and made a note on his scroll of parchment. 

“Next.”

“Lestrange,”

“Which?”

“All three,”

“Three?”

“Rodolphus, Rabastan and Bellatrix.”

“Ah yes, she’s a Lestrange now, isn’t she? I still think of her as a Black.” More jotting. “Any more?”

“Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Lee, Dolohov and Snyde.” He gave as many big names as he could. But left out his friends. Evan and Barty would be safe for now. 

“Hmm,” Moody murmured to himself as he scanned the list. "That’s a good lot to be getting on with. We know about most of these. But Lee and Nott, these are new leads. Well done, Black.” He stood up and made to leave. 

“Wait! What about me? What’s going to happen to me?” Regulus’s eyes darted between Moody and James. 

“Oh, I’ll have someone from the Ministry come and pick you up and take you to Azkaban,” Moody said blandly, carefully rolling up the parchment. 

“Azkaban?” Regulus felt his whole body go numb.

“You’re a death eater, Black. What did you expect?”

“You can’t do that to him!” James broke his promise to keep silent during the interrogation and leapt out of his chair. 

“I can and I will, Potter. He’s killed countless people on our side. Good people.” Moody didn’t even bother to look at them, already planning his next steps. 

“Please, Mad-Eye. There has to be something else. Anything else. Please, please don’t send him there.” James’s eyes had filled with tears at the thought of Regulus sitting in one of the cold stone cells of Azkaban surrounded by dementors. 

There was a sudden banging noise outside the door, and Sirius came barging in with Remus in tow. 

“Where the bloody hell have you been Black?” Moody shouted, already aggravated by James’s outburst. 

“Remus took me to see the new Monty Python movie. We told Alice we wouldn’t be long.”

“I don’t care about minty lizard motive. You’ve been gone for hours!” Moody snapped. 

“It’s Monty Python. It’s a movie, you know, a muggle motion picture. As for time, it’s an hour and a half film, plus the trailers, and I had to get popcorn, and—” 

“Mad-Eye’s trying to send Regulus to Azkaban, Sirius!” James interrupted before Sirius started explaining further.

“WHAT!!!” Sirius bellowed. “I REFUSE TO LET YOU SEND HIM THERE! AZKABAN IS NOT AN OPTION MAD-EYE! I WILL FIGHT YOU OVER THIS!” 

Remus had to grab the back of Sirius’s robes to stop him from launching himself at Mad-Eye.

“Calm down, Sirius. I’m sure we can sort this out.” He turned to Mad-Eye. “Perhaps it would be best to discuss this later when we’ve all had the time to think.” Remus tried to be the voice of reason and stood between the two riled-up men. Moody grunted. 

“Fine. I’ll discuss this with Dumbledore. Get his thoughts on the matter.” He pointed a stubby finger at Regulus. “He does not leave this room. Is that clear?” 

“Crystal,” Remus responded, his tone cooler than usual. 

Four pairs of eyes watched Moody leave the cellar. As soon as the door at the top of the stairs shut, a collective sigh rang out. 

Regulus started shaking. He couldn’t go to Azkaban. James wrapped his arms around him and held him close. 

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll figure it out.”   

Next part

#February 9 #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #jegulus fanfiction #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #mad eye moody #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #dead gay wizards #james and regulus #james x regulus #james potter x regulus black #regulus and james #movie

[kaaragen]

By the Scenic Route

(A short(ish) fic inspired by this conversation with @stellanslashgeode)

Ahsoka glared at her datapad as if narrowing her eyes further would force the information to align in a way she liked. Sat in the Noti pod that was now her base of operations, the data was refusing to comply. However she spun it, twisted it, rearranged it, pleaded with it, argued, and threatened to throw it against the wall, the datapad was resolute.

No purgil migrations would be happening for another two years. Minimum.

Which meant her chances of escaping Peridia were zilch. Nada. Nought.

She sighed and leaned back against the cold metal of the wall, stretching her legs out across her cot, long lekku draping down toward her waist. Months they’d been out here, with no sign of a way out. She’d briefly scouted the space around the planet with Huyang, scoping with the sensors as far as possible, but wherever Peridia was it was the ass-end of it. Nothing was out there for light years.

And while she was stuck here, Thrawn was back home. Doing who knew what. Yes, sure, she trusted Ezra, trusted Hera and Luke and everyone, but still.

The sound of running feet scuffing through dust twitched her montrals and the sigh was leaving her lips before Sabine even skidded to the open hatch.

“Master!” Sabine shouted, doing nothing for Ahoska’s headache. “The bandits are attacking!”

Ahsoka feathered fingers to her temple. “Sabine, for the love of the Force, can you and Shin find other ways of hanging out...”

Sabine looked affronted, even as her cheeks reddened. “Hang out--what do--they’re murderous, rampaging bandits!”

Ahsoka crossed her arms sourly. “Really? And when was the last time they murdered something more valuable than flowers?”

“I--”

“Never mind!” Ahsoka threw up her hands and stood, storming past Sabine and into the cold light of the village. The Noti looked spectacularly unbothered for people apparently about to be raided, going about their daily tasks of mending the curving, snail-like pods, caring for the children and organising the supplies. A couple poked their eyestalks toward Ahsoka and Sabine but most paid them no mind as Ahsoka strode for her howler, Yoti, snoozing at the edge of the village circle. She gestured and Yoti responded to her presence, yawning and stretching.

“I’m going out,” Ahsoka said, gathering up her saddle and reins and putting them on Yoti, “I place you in full charge of the defence of the village.”

Sabine put her hands on her hips, frowning. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome Padawan. Enjoy the lightsabre duel. Make sure the plant pots stay safe.” She cracked the reigns and Yoti shot off, bounding across the mottled earth.

“Sheesh...go have a wank or something, don’t take your frustration out on me...” she heard Sabine mutter.

----------------

Ahsoka wasn’t aware of how long she rode, or even where. The light didn’t change much at the best of times, and much of the planet had a drab, hewn grey. But she could pick out some markers to lead her back to the Noti. For everything else, she had the Force.

She breathed deeply. Casting her eyes up into the cloudless day, the pale blue of the sky revealed nothing, save for the purple line cutting across the heavens like a lightsabre blade. Huyang had determined that that phenomenon, whatever it was, was several million lightyears away but was unable to determine what it was. Focusing on it and questing through the Force in the past had brought Ahsoka nothing but a deep, sickly feeling so she’d ignored it since.

What was she going to do? Everything inside her was screaming at her with visions of destruction, death, returning to the galaxy to fine the Empire renewed and everyone she knew gone. Again.

Sometimes she could shut it out. Sometimes she could keep it quiet. But there were nightmares. And during the day, they would intrude into her consciousness, jabbing like needles into her skin.

It was happening again.

She breathed. She let the rhythmic thump of her mount’s stride reverberate. She reached through the echoing pulse of her feet striking the ground. Followed the ripple of its waves into the grass. Followed the pollen leaking from the grass up and up into the air. Followed them as they dappled down, landing across furrowed ground and then some tools and then the sides of a hut and up and up and landing on...

Something...familiar?

She opened her eyes, confused. Ahsoka cast her gaze to the East and directed Yoti to follow a path she hadn’t traversed before. The path led her toward a mountain, where tumbled statues fell across the ground, large stone hands that had once been upraised in triumph now beseeching to anyone passing by. She ignored them, focusing on the horizon getting closer and closer, crossing a small stream.

The curve of the planet unrolled and she came across a small hut with a flat roof, sat at the end of a ploughed field. Several crops poked from the furrows of the ground, some hanging fruits as well as rooted vegetables. Ahsoka swung off the howler, and walked across the field, her eyes never leaving the figure sitting in a cross-legged meditation pose on the hut’s roof.

Ahsoka halted a meter away and stared. “Barriss?”

Barriss Offee, for it was she, cracked open an eye and turned her head slightly. She wore a plain, loose black tunic, a shawl wrapped over her hair, the black freckles of her diamond tattoos across her nose and cheeks standing out from the yellow skin. A few lines streaked her face, but still recognisably her.

“Ah, hello Ahsoka,” she said, closing her eyes again. “My apologies, I’m in the middle of completing an exercise. Would you mind waiting?”

Ahsoka raised a bewildered brow.

Barriss’ eyes flew open and her mouth twisted into a rictus. She toppled off the side of her hut as if she’d had a heart attack.

Thud!

“...Owww...”

Ahsoka looked down at Barriss, rather inelegantly sprawled upside down with her ankles in the region of her ears, wincing at what was an almighty whack to the head when she fell.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ahsoka asked, more in shock than anything else.

“I live here!” Barriss replied. She scooted herself around to a seated position, rubbing the back of her head. She cast a vicious glare at Ahoska, as if she’d missed a ‘private property - keep out!’ sign. “What are you doing here?”

“I...” Ahsoka started and then trailed off. She’d been asking herself that same question, repeatedly. “I...live here too...I guess.”

“You guess? Are you not aware?” Barriss scoffed, getting to her feet. She froze slightly and cast a worried eye at her. “You’re not...you’re not here for...?”

“You? No. Until this moment I had no idea you were here.” Ahsoka frowned. “What are you doing here?”

A dry, mirthless chuckle escaped Barriss’ throat. “What do you think? Hiding. Trying to find some semblance of life away from it all. I had to run to entirely different galaxy to escape my demons.” She paused, her expression falling into a pit. “Seems they found me anyway.”

Ahsoka swallowed. “I’m...Barriss I’m not looking to...” She shook her head. “How did you find your way here?”

“The fairy tales. I always like them. I read up on purgil migration patterns and thought I’d take the chance. Anything was better than...than where I was.” She cleared her throat. “The Inquisitorious...it was...”

“I know,” Ahsoka interrupted. “We found the list.”

She’d spent days staring at it, when she’d seen Barriss’ name among the reports, declared dead some two years after the rise of the Empire. There had been a part of her that had ached. Ached for the loss of closure. For the missed opportunity to talk. But she’d put it away and had largely not thought about Barriss for nearly thirty years.

Now she was suddenly, quietly, back in her life.

She almost couldn’t process it. There was the face she remembered from her youth. Older now, but still her. The person she’d almost died with, multiple times. The person she’d gone through a war with. The person she’d grown up with.

The person she’d felt...

Who had betrayed...

Barriss’ eyes flicked to her, and their gazes hooked into each other for a long moment.

Barriss’ lip trembled. “I...I wouldn’t presume to hope that you’d know...but I want to say that I’m so sorry for--”

“Barriss, stop.”

Just like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She collapsed into a squat, energy draining out of her. Her arms hung limp over her knees and Barriss said nothing, just watched her.

“I’m...I’m so tired.” Admitting it felt strange, but it came with a pulse of truth. She took a deep breath and ploughed through. “I get it. I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand it. I’ve been fighting, constantly, since I was fourteen years old. The Empire has been gone for twelve years and I’m still fighting. Even now, stuck here, all of my thoughts are about trying to get back, trying to keep fighting, and what will happen if I don’t.

“I was angry with you. I’m not going to lie, I spent a lot of hours imagining confronting you in the aftermath of...of it...”

“Did any of them take place in a galaxy far, far away?” Barriss asked weakly.

Ahsoka cracked a smile. “No, but a spectacular number ended with you getting punched.”

Barriss’ face twitched. “Can’t say I wouldn’t have deserved it.”

“But seeing you, now, just makes me think...that I’m too exhausted for this anymore. I’m too exhausted to stay angry. Or anything.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Barriss cleared her throat. “I don’t...I don’t want to give advice but...if you really can’t get back, then perhaps take that as a sign?”

Ahsoka squinted up at her.

“The Force and I...we don’t have the best relationship. I’m trying to find my way back to it, to let it back into my life. But it’s been good out here. It gave me time to think. To decompress. To...” She waggled her hands. “To rest. Maybe you’re getting a signal that you should do the same?”

Ahsoka swallowed. There as a part of her that rebelled at that idea. That couldn’t stand the idea that she should just leave things be. That wanted to rage against the infinite box she was placed in. But...but what good would it do to even return to the galaxy if she was this tired?

Her confrontation with Anakin had told her something; that death wasn’t the right path. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some rest. That she couldn’t take a break. That she couldn’t let herself truly breathe...

She chuckled softly and stood. Maybe the Force had led her with its pollen path?

“Thanks, Barriss. I think I needed to hear that.”

Barriss smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re welcome, Ahsoka. May the Force be with you.”

Ahsoka nodded and turned to go to Yoti. She reached halfway across the field, before pausing and then swinging back. Barriss stared at her, rooted to the spot, eyes wide and a trembling across her face.

Ahsoka swallowed and opened her mouth--

“Do you want to see my village?”

Barriss blinked. “What?”

Ahsoka squeezed her eyes shut. All the vaunted maturity she’d thought she’d gained over the years fled out of her system and suddenly she was a teenager again, desperate to say something but not knowing how to or even what the something was beyond a vague feeling. But this time the feeling was clear: she wanted her friend back.

She opened her eyes, and there was Barriss and for the first time she saw all the fear that had coagulated in her being. “Do you...do you think we could just pretend that we talked it all out a long time ago? That we moved past it?”

Barriss held still a moment, then she crumpled back against her hut. Her breath came thick and short, and she squeezed her eyes closed. For a moment, Ahsoka thought she was going to vomit, but she seemed to get herself under control.

“I would like that,” she gasped. “I would like that very much.”

A wave of relief, carrying with it a long-buried feeling, settling over her like an old cloak. Not exactly comfy, perhaps, and maybe not fitting right anymore. But comfortable, with the familiar scent providing warmth. She walked to Barriss and lightly put her hand on her shoulder. Barriss looked up at her wide-eyed, hopeful and scared.

“Then let’s do that.” Ahsoka smiled.

-----------------

The ride back was comfortable, the two catching up on the way. Barriss didn’t have much to tell, apart from her “less-than-daring escape” as she put it, and Ahsoka chided her to come up with something more entertaining to tell later. From Ahsoka’s side there was so much.

“So they built two superweapons?” Barriss queried, riding behind Ahsoka on the mount, her hands resting on Ahsoka’s thighs in a light way that suggested she was afraid of touching something scalding.

“Yeah. I think there must have been an underspend in the budget somewhere.”

“And they called this planet killing weapon the Death Star?”

“They sure did.”

“What have they called the solar system destroying weapon? The Sun Crusher? The Starkiller?”

Ahsoka laughed. They crested a rise and came onto view the village, the pods all miraculously undestroyed and unraided.

“Here we are,” Ahsoka said. “It’s not much, but it’s a base.”

“It looks lovely. I’ve traded with the Noti before. Very friendly people. You’ve done well.” Barriss squinted past Ahsoka’s arm. “Are those Scar-Waste Bandits?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka frowned. Alright, this was unusual. Usually the bandits scuttled off after a bit of ritual bellowing and a lightsabre fight between Sabine and Shin, that usually ended with Shin fleeing and threatening vile retribution like some HoloNet serial villain. But this time, they were hanging about. Drinking tea with the Noti, spinning some of the kids in their disc-shaped hats, and generally being pleasant people. Their helmets were off, pale blue skin with green eyes peering out. “This isn’t normal.”

“From my experience, they’re not ones to trade or be pleasant, even when it would be more advantageous to them. But they leave you alone if you give them a sufficiently thorough kicking.”

Ahsoka raised a brow at Barriss, and her cheeks darkened. “They caught me on a bad day and took a potato crop that had just ripened. I’m not perfect!”

Ahsoka slid off Yoti and Barriss followed her through the village. She reached out, trying to locate Sabine and twigged her presence as coming from their pod.

With...someone else...

Ahsoka halted outside of the pod, the hatch door shut. “Sabine?” she called.

Someone swore. There was a fumbling, stumbling noise, two people in a hushed argument. Sounds of items being thrown and clinking against the walls and floor. An isolated curse. And then the hatch popped open and Sabine popped out, flushed and panicked and wearing a light grey tunic that was familiar and also not Sabine’s.

“Oh! Hey, Master, I thought you would be longer--that is, it’s good to see you back!”

“Master?” Barriss queried with a twitch of her lips.

Ahsoka flapped her hand. “What are you doing?” she asked Sabine.

“Uh...well, actually, I’m in the process of negotiating a peace treaty with the bandits.”

“Really?” Ahsoka’s voice dripped with so much sarcasm it nearly pooled at her feet.

“Pretty intense negotiations actually.” Sabine toed her boot into the ground, the ankle and leg above its hem bare.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and let out a suffering sigh. She turned to Barriss. “I don’t suppose I could stay at your place?”

For what might have been the first time in her life, Ahsoka saw a genuine smile cross Barriss’ face. She slid her hand into Ahsoka’s and gently squeezed.

“Come on, I’ll take you home by the scenic route.”

Home. She liked the sound of that word and the implications it held.

Ahsoka squeezed the hand back. “That sounds like just what I need.”

#star wars #fanfic #barrissoka #wolfwren #my writing #fluff #mild angst #hope you enjoy!

[fallenwhumpee]

Pls pls pls do another part of “this can’t be it” it was incredible!!!!

Of course! Glad you find it up to your tastes.

"This can't be it."

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Masterlist •

Warnings: Whumper-turned-whumpee, whumper-turned-caretaker, stitches.

Telling Whumper was angry would be the understatement of the year. Of the century. Their forces betrayed them in a horrible way. Just the audacity! How dare they try to kill their only way out of this mess.

As if they didn't notice that this was an attempt to balance the organisation's inner politics and make up their latest - and biggest - defeat. The only thing that came out good from this trap was that it let them have Leader, the only one Whumper had to deal with in person.

Though carrying them was getting harder every second. Leader was barely putting a step in front of another, and Whumper's dizziness wasn't making things any easier.

What the organisation didn't know was Whumper always had a backup plan. Always an exit rule, always a trick in their sleeve.

It was ironic that only Leader noticed those small things. Whumper appreciated that intelligence, and it often motivated Whumper. They loved the delight to say the last line or outsmart their rival and brag about it.

They slid through the corridors like maze, finally reaching to an underground bunker. They sealed the door, setting Leader down to a cot.

With less weight, they stumbled, blinking back as they clung to the edges of the cot. They pushed back a wave of nausea as they straightened, a groan escaping.

They pulled a med kit from under the cot.

They set it next to the motionless form of their enemy, not caring for the noise they made. They probably should have cared.

Leader's eyes snapped up with that, pushing them with a strength Whumper didn't think they possessed after taking a bullet.

Leader could only go two steps far before their legs gave up. Whumper caught them, carrying them back to the cot while Leader struggled as much as they could with the painful wound.

"Just don't move. You're going to get blood everywhere."

And apparently, this wasn't the right thing to tell the enemy at your mercy.

A fist sent them to the floor, their breaths knocing out of their chest as they hit the ground.

"That's not how you thank someone saved your life." Whumper got up, feeling their ribs ache. They were starting to think that they carried a mass of muscles down there.

Leader doubled over as they tried to sit to the edge of the cot, hissing. Whumper was glad that they stopped.

"Now, I know you want to go up and snap some necks, but I have to patch you up, or you will bleed to death."

Whumper got up slowly. They weren't in good shape either, but they were better than their unintentional companion.

"Pretty unbelievable when it was the only thing you wanted," Leader rasped. They didn't sound good.

"Shut up and lay down. I need some space to think a way out of this."

Surprisingly, Leader obeyed as they breathed through the pain with every movement.

Whumper finally found a chair and pulled it next to the cot. The med kit was fully equipped to patch up the mess in front of them.

"I will pull the bullet out now, do you need something to bite or...?"

"You can't have my kidneys."

Whumper chuckled. If Leader was making jokes, then the blood loss was yet to claim their coherency.

"Both the agency and organisation will pay for this."

"How—"

Whumper pulled the bullet out quickly, Leader screaming right after.

"Yeah well, now the stitches. The hardest is done."

They dumped the antiseptic into the wound, ignoring Leader trying to get a hold of their breaths.

"Now," Whumper started as they pushed the needle into Leader's skin. "I will get my revenge, and you will help me."

"Never," Leader gasped, but Whumper knew they would agree at the end.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #whumper turned whumpee #whumper turned caretaker #stitches

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[ukrfeminism]

10 minute read

Full text under cut. Trigger warning for domestic abuse, institutional misogyny, child abuse, and murder.

Laura Corkill was prepared for the birth of her son. The baby's room was newly decorated - she had even chosen the name. Leiland-James Michael Corkill was born by emergency Caesarean four days before Christmas at West Cumberland Hospital.

Mother and baby bonded straight away - Laura describes it as "perfect".  

"I remember his big bright eyes. I was happy, full of joy. I was looking forward to bringing my baby home." 

But 48 hours after he was born, Leiland-James was taken away. The midwife who had helped deliver him came to tell Laura there was a social worker at his cot about to remove him. 

Laura says she went and confronted the woman but was told paperwork had been sent to her solicitor.  "I still haven't seen any paperwork," says Laura.

Laura's world "shattered" when her son was carried away.

It was 2019, and over the following year, she would try to get him back. But just days after his first birthday, the woman - who social workers had placed him with - murdered him.

Laura Corkill has never spoken out before. She wasn't involved in the subsequent murder trial. She wasn't involved in Cumbria County Council's review into his death. She says she feels silenced. This is her story, told for the first time. 

This is also the story of what happens when social services get it wrong and when mothers who have experienced domestic abuse end up losing their children.

 When Laura fell pregnant with Leiland-James, it was a moment of hope - a time to put her troubled past behind her. She was in a good place - supported by Aishea Drysder, from Women Out West, an organisation helping women who have suffered domestic and sexual violence.  

Laura already knew what it was like to have a child removed by social services. Years earlier, she suffered domestic violence, but weeks after asking for help to remove her abusive partner from the home, her children were taken instead. Her life unravelled. 

But being pregnant with Leiland-James was different, she says.

 "I wanted to do anything and everything possible, to make sure social services didn't get their hands on this one. I was on cloud nine. I heard nothing from social services until 22 weeks."  

The first social worker, she says, appeared to be happy with the preparations made for the baby at home. "She checked everything over and went around the house. She had no problems. She could see from what she read in my previous paperwork that I've come a very long way." 

But Laura was still cautious and says she asked directly if she would be able to keep her baby. She says the woman reassured her there wasn't any reason the baby would be taken into care.

"I got the cot. I decorated [the room] in blue and white." 

Laura believes everything changed when a second social worker replaced the first. The woman  wanted  to know more about Laura's past, particularly her time with an abusive partner when her first two children were taken away from her. Laura says she was open and honest.

"My mind was in two places. I feared they were going to whip everything away, but I was determined to carry on. I thought 'they are not getting him'."

Before the birth, Laura passed several parenting assessment courses.

"I jumped through every hoop to bring Leiland-James home."  

Cumbria County Council has a different version of events and says in the last month of her pregnancy the plan was to remove Laura's son at birth. They say they told her this three times. Laura disputes this, and she says she is still waiting to see the paperwork, and that she only received confirmation when the social worker was taking her son from the hospital.

Laura's home is on the edge of Whitehaven, in a corner of an estate looking down on the town's harbour. It has a stunning view.

It's a place of extraordinary beauty but also deep deprivation. It's hard to believe now, but in the 18th Century it was a town made rich by coal, and the second-busiest port after London. Those days are long gone.  

Laura's front room is now a shrine to her children and in particular Leiland-James. 

When I meet her she is with Aishea from Women Out West and her colleague Rebecca Todd. Between them, they have more than 50 years' experience helping women who have suffered domestic and sexual violence.  

They had no idea Leiland-James was going to be taken. "The first we knew was when Laura phoned us from the ward. We were devastated," says Aishea.  Whatever the plan was, it wasn't communicated to them, they say.

Aishea says they had their own plan which would have seen Laura supported at home with the baby. After he was taken away, there were several attempts to negotiate with Cumbria County Council to bring him home.

A council spokesperson told the BBC that where there are concerns that a child's needs cannot be met, they have a duty to act and they work hard to support and inform birth parents.

Initially, Leiland-James was placed with a temporary foster carer. Laura says he was happy.

But she never stopped asking for him back.

The BBC has seen evidence that the Women Out West team supporting Laura offered social workers proposals to bring Leiland-James home. Both Aishea and Rebecca say they were not listened to. 

The council told us Laura was assessed as not being able to meet Leiland-James's needs and during his life her circumstances did not change. This is strongly denied by Laura and Women Out West.

Removing Leiland-James proved to be the start of a series of events that proved fatal. Laura, Aishea and Rebecca believe decisions were made based on Laura's past, a belief the violence she faced previously could happen again, putting her and the baby at risk.

Leiland-James was taken from his mother in hospital and placed in care. He went on to be killed by the woman who wanted to adopt him.

Laura suffered several miscarriages after experiencing severe violence at the hands of a previous partner. After one of them, as she lay in a hospital bed recovering from a blood transfusion, her two children were removed from the family home.

She says at the time she reached out to Cumbria County Council for help but had not received what she needed.

"What they didn't realise was that I may have been the victim, but I was also the protector of my older children."  

She says she "went off the rails" and suffered a mental health breakdown. She collapsed and ended up in hospital again. The next few years were hell, she says.

"I didn't want to be around any more." 

Laura says she wasn't in a relationship while pregnant with Leiland-James and was in a positive frame of mind.

 For the first few months of Leiland-James's life, Laura was able to see him at a council-run contact centre. She shows me photographs and it's striking how happy they both look. Laura would see her son four times a week, for an hour-and-a-half a day.  

"I was still expecting him to come home," she says. "The contact meant the world to me. I even asked for them to extend it to about two hours. They wouldn't do it. I didn't trust them [the social workers], but I was willing to co-operate to get Leiland back." 

But Covid cut off contact. In March 2020, as the country went into its first lockdown, she says she took two buses - an hour's journey - and turned up at the centre only to find it was closed.

For the next three months, she asked for video contact. But when she did get it, it wasn't the same.  "I just wanted to hold him," she says.  

But worse was to come. In July, the family court granted an adoption order for Leiland-James. Laura says she hadn't been told that Cumbria County Council had already identified her son for adoption and had  found  a family to place him with  months earlier.

Cumbria County Council says they told Laura in April that Leiland-James should be adopted.

Laura disputes this - and says the time she had with Leiland-James in the contact centre should have indicated she was able to look after her son. She thinks too much weight was placed on her abusive past and the assumption the baby would be at risk of future emotional harm.

"How can [social workers] come up with that when they had seen what I was like in contact with the baby?" Laura asks.

Laura also believes her lack of face-to-face contact with her son because of Covid, and the closure of the centre, was used against her. 

On 22 August 2020, Leiland-James was formally placed with a foster mother,  Laura Castle, with a view to adoption. 

Laura says she was meant to meet  Laura Castle,  as she still had parental rights, before the formal adoption. But the meeting time was constantly changed.  She says she was given excuse after excuse by social workers. "Leiland was poorly when he wasn't, or they had to work. Something always cropped up." 

Cumbria County Council says it did plan for a meeting before the adoption order was granted but everyone involved needed to be emotionally ready and the pandemic also caused difficulties.

Laura became suspicious. "I thought there's something seriously wrong. I automatically thought 'He's getting abused.'" 

She  shows me the last picture of her and her son at the contact centre. "It's precious," she says, her voice breaking. It's all she has left. She would never hold Leiland-James again.  

In January 2021, the baby was taken to hospital by ambulance. Laura Castle told emergency services he had fallen from a sofa, injuring his head, and that he was unresponsive. 

A social worker phoned Laura Corkill, but wouldn't tell her which hospital he was in.

"I was up and down all night. I just wanted to try to figure out if I could go to every hospital I could to find him. It was evil not to tell me." 

The following day, she was told Leiland-James had been moved to Alder Hey  Children's Hospital in Liverpool.

Cumbria County Council says only limited details were shared with Laura because his prospective adoptive parents were with him and the extent of the injuries were not known at the time. But the next day, when it became clear he wasn't expected to live, they rang Laura within an hour.

A taxi sent by the council was meant to take her to Liverpool, but Laura says it didn't arrive. Her support workers at Women Out West provided transport.

Laura was alone at the hospital when she arrived. She says by the time she got to his room, Leiland-James had died. By then, Laura says her son's body was evidence, a crime scene, and hospital staff would not let her touch him.

Laura says she instinctively knew his death had not been an accident. 

"I said whoever had him had killed him. The surgeon told me 'we had suspicions of this and it went into investigation as soon as Leiland-James went into the hospital'."

Pathologists would later say in court that Leiland-James's injuries had been a classic indicator of "abusive head trauma" - a replacement term for "shaken baby syndrome" - and were of the severity seen in high-speed car crashes.

If you've been affected by the issues raised in this report, details of organisations offering information and support for domestic abuse and adoption are available via BBC Action Line.

Before Leiland-James was placed in her care, Laura Castle had agreed to Cumbria County Council's zero-tolerance approach to corporal punishment.

But during her trial for the murder in May this year, it emerged she had  constantly beaten and abused the baby. In court, she was described as self-centred, abusive and violent. 

She filmed the baby in distress. In text messages she bragged to her husband how she had "leathered him" and described him as "the devil's spawn". 

In one text, she wrote: "I honestly really don't like him lately, he's an absolute moaning winge bag and I totally regret doin this [sic]. 

"Although I need to stop smacking him cos if I start, I'll not stop at one point and it's not getting us anywhere and then I feel bad."

These texts and the abuse were hidden from social workers, they had no idea this violence was taking place - but they were becoming concerned about what Laura Castle was saying to them about the boy.

The court heard a social worker had reported that Leiland-James had appeared unsettled, while another reported that Laura Castle had branded him "lazy" and "big" and said she didn't love him.   

In December 2020, what is known as a Child Looked After Review had taken place. Social workers had agreed not to support an application for Laura Castle to formally adopt Leiland-James. But when Laura Castle was told this, she said to one social worker that "Leiland-James wasn't going anywhere". 

In May this year, Laura Castle was found guilty of murder and sentenced to 18 years. Her husband, Scott Castle, was cleared of causing or allowing Leiland-James's death at the couple's home. He told the court that on the morning of the fatal attack he was in bed  asleep after working a night shift.

Laura Corkill describes the woman who killed her son as an "evil sadistic monster". But she is also angry with Cumbria County Council and says it also must bear some responsibility for his death.

"Why did they place him there? Why did it take them so long to pick up on it? They should have cancelled the adoption order." 

She also argues the council needs to offer more support to abuse victims.

The BBC has learned there are currently 26 mothers in west Cumbria, victims of domestic and sexual abuse, who are now at risk of losing their children because social workers have concerns about the impact on their children.

All of them are being supported by Women Out West. Laura Bell is what is known as the centre's McKenzie Friend - not a legal professional but someone who may support a domestic violence victim in the family court, or when dealing with children's services. 

All the 26 women she supports are required to go through child safeguarding procedures, despite being victims themselves. This is because there's an incorrect belief, she says, that these women can't keep their children safe. 

"It's a national scandal. A lot of the time, these women victims of domestic or sexual abuse make the right choice, they leave the relationship, they try to get help but end up victimised again, either by the perpetrator or by agencies meant to support them.

"Nine times out of 10, they have to make their children available for contact with the person who has abused them." 

Women Out West was founded by Rachel Holliday three years ago. She says six mothers who faced domestic and sexual abuse by partners  have revealed to her that their children were removed by Cumbria County Council and placed with their abusers. 

Some of the evidence she collected with the mothers' permission, she says, was handed over to the council more than two years ago.

"One woman had her children taken away and moved to the father, and those children are still making allegations to this day that he is putting his hands on [them].

"We have a culture of blaming women, not believing women." 

As a result, Rachel says, women and children are being put in danger.  She says her concerns have not been taken seriously by Cumbria County Council. 

"It didn't matter who we took [them] to. It was shocking nothing happened. We showed a lot of people, community leaders, but nothing changed."

The council told us when it was given the names of these women, it reviewed the allegations and some had been through its formal complaints procedures. It added that decisions to remove children from their parents - and where they should be placed - are made by the courts.

Cumbria Safeguarding Children Partnership is expected to publish a review into Leiland-James's death today. It will examine why he was placed with the Castle family and what social workers did when concerns were raised.

Laura Corkill has not been asked to be part of it. 

"I lost count of how many times I asked for my baby back. It's as though I've been wiped off the face of the earth. When he came home, it was in a wooden box," she says. 

John Readman. from Cumbria County Council, said in Leiland-James's case the family court agreed he should be placed in foster care after he was born and that Laura Corkill has been supported by her own social worker. He said Leiland-James's death "should not have happened and our condolences go to all who knew him".

A year-and-a-half after Leiland James's murder, Laura Corkill says no-one from the council has visited to her to say sorry or phoned to apologise. If he had been allowed to go home with her, she says, he would still be alive today.   

In the cemetery near Laura Corkill's home, there is a small headstone. The words "gone but never forgotten" are etched alongside Leiland-James's name and those of his living siblings - the children taken from their mother years ago. 

Here, Laura says, she can be at peace with her child. But it might have been very different. Laura says social workers wanted the body to be cremated and she had to fight to give him a burial.

"They even tried to write the eulogy," she says.  The BBC has seen a draft copy of  it sent by a social worker, which includes the words: "Leiland I am sorry I was not able to be the parent you needed."

Laura refused to read it out and wrote her own. "They tried to control me 100% but it didn't work. They tried to make me forget I was a mother, but no-one can take that away from me." 

Cumbria County Council admits it helped Laura to prepare the eulogy, but says she was left to make final decisions.

Rebecca Todd, from Women Out West, says what happened after Leiland's death was unthinkable. "It all needs to be investigated. Everyone involved with this case needs to be accountable.  

"It's important for Laura. She has been silenced and dismissed. To control a lady that can't even control her own child's funeral, where his body is, is just wrong. It's horrific." 

She says there needs to be a public inquiry outside Cumbria into the decision to remove him from mother.

Laura often sits alone at the grave contemplating what could have been - Leiland-James would be at nursery now. She says it's also the place where no-one can control her time with her son.

"I've spent more time with Leiland in death than in life. He's home now. I loved him - all I wanted was to be a proper mother."

[sleepingdeath-light]

the snake charmer ; bb. snake (18+)

pairing ; snake x female!reader

warnings ; unprotected sex, slight dub-con & one night stand

word count ; 2995

note ; this was a rewrite of my first ever proper smut piece that was originally written in august of 2017. i posted this on wattpad on the piece’s 5 year anniversary and just realised that i never posted it here — so enjoy!

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

never had her cramped little isolated tent felt quite so homey as it did after evening performances in the big top. the thin fabric that made up the 'walls' may have done little to offer a sense of true privacy or keep out the cold, and her cot was terribly worn and uncomfortable, but it was a welcome reprieve from the bright lights and unrelenting noise that punctuated her performances (and it gave her the space to relax and practice privately without the stress of perfection that accompanied one's presence in front of the crowds their circus tended to draw in these days).

their tent was also where her beloved companions were housed, one of which being her mischievous main partner that had made a habit of trying to eat their ringmaster at any given opportunity — much to her, and his, open chagrin. livia, as she had so affectionately named her, had always had a penchant for the dramatic; going along with training and routine, but only for the right price, and following her numerous attempted felonies with that expression that screamed empty-headedness and a default innocence unbefitting of the would-be criminal.

"that won't work forever you know, my love," (name) scolded halfheartedly as she returned her friend to her enclosure and offered her a fresh mouse, "your crimes will catch up to you eventually — and the law isn't light on repeat offenders, i hear."

the snake, being an animal, offered no response other than a slow blink before moving to attack her prey — and promptly missing (earning a hearty laugh from the woman despite her growing exhaustion). endearing — she'd never be able to survive in the wild, but she made for a wonderfully amusing domestic companion (though one with a taste for blood and noncompliance with the law).

though her amusement was quickly cut short when she noticed a distinctive, and distinctly unfamiliar, red and white striped tail peaking out from the pile of boxes she hadn't gotten around to organising yet. a snake, certainly, but not one of hers — so with light footsteps and a honeyed voice, she approached the animal and coaxed it carefully out of its hiding place.

"hello there, darling," she began as she slowly picked it up, "hi. aren't you a beautiful creature... where did you come from, hm?" she turned it around in her hands as it comfortably wrapped itself around her forearm and rested its head on her flattened palm. "well you're certainly a domestic animal... let's go and see if we can find your owner, hm? i’m sure they're driving themselves mad looking for you." the snake stuck its tongue out and licked the tip of her thumb, causing her to laugh as she turned on her heel and made her way towards the lone exit to her space.

surely sleep could wait a short while longer, right?

————

however her plan to leave her tent was quickly turned on it's head when she ran face-first into a complete stranger at the entrance to her tent. the force of it had her stumbling backwards, equal parts confused and mortified as she went to apologise — only to be stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of just who she'd nearly toppled over.

then man before her was a peculiar sight to be sure: skin pale enough to rival the light of the moon that peered over the tents outside, smattered with random patches of lightly coloured scales that complimented his unusual complexion in a suitably unusual way; fair, silky hair that framed his face and hung over his forehead, itself seeming unusually soft and well cared for despite their obviously shared line of work; a thin silhouette with clothing that seemed to almost hang off of his semi-gaunt form, his body practically engulfed by the ocean of fabric in a way that brought a bemused smile to her face. and that wasn't even to mention the various snakes that comfortably slithered in and out of his clothes and wound themselves calmly around his body.

though, she supposed, she must have been an equally intriguing sight if his wandering gaze was anything to go by: (length) (colour) hair done up in a (comfortable/suited/sensible) (style) that complimented both her role and her clothing; (type) body silhouetted by a fitted leotard and corset, itself a deep green in colour and accented in various shades of gold and red to mimic the colouring of her beloved companions; (size) (shape) lips painted a deep red and curled upwards in a pleasant smile and (shape) (colour) eyes decorated with a thick liner and obviously raking over his form. perhaps she shouldn't be so judgmental then, she noted to herself.

upon regaining her composure, the woman politely bowed her head to the stranger and greeted him in a kind voice as she offered the friendly and now very talkative snake to him.

"good evening, sir, i take it this beauty is yours?" when he nodded politely and carefully moved her to his person, she smiled and gestured for him to enter her space. "you've clearly come quite some way — i didn't even know there were other snake charmers around — and it would be terribly rude to just send you off like that. so, would you like to come inside?" he seemed to look to his companions for answers before nodding and meeting her curious gaze.

"we'd like that," he began in a high pitched voice, "says emily."

"oh? is that her name?" when he nodded she smiled and continued in a pleasant tone. "well, my name is (name), it's a pleasure to meet you, emily and..."

"snake," he offered, this time seemingly speaking for himself this time.

"snake! how fitting," she joked lightly, ushering him inside, "would you like to hear some songs from my performance? i've been meaning to practise and it's always nice to have another likeminded performer about to give their mind."

he didn't say anything that time, but the small nod he gave was confirmation enough for her to go and retrieve her slightly beaten up pungi before taking a seat beside him on her cot.

————

lightly calloused fingertips caressed the length of the instrument, coaxing an all too familiar tune from it with a well practised ease that allowed her mind to wander — tired eyes slipping shut as she lost herself to the routine, yet heavily toned down, performance. sat with crossed legs on a thin, dirty mattress, it didn't take long for her to lose herself entirely as she went through the motions she had committed to muscle memory — swaying side-to-side to the music in time with her various reptilian companions and, unbeknownst to her in that moment, the young man that sat by her side.

the pitch and rhythm and sound were utterly entrancing, snake had realised, and he soon found himself mirroring her movements — swaying to-and-fro in a trance-like state; unable to tear his eyes away from her as his heart rate began to pick up and his mouth ran dry. he could just barely hear emily and wordsworth chatting airily amongst themselves, but he couldn't bring himself to respond even when they removed themselves from his clothes and evacuated to an unoccupied enclosure somewhere behind them.

but even as their voices faded into white noise, lost to the intoxicating, all encompassing song, he didn't give much in the way of a response — not verbally, at least, for his body was certainly responding beyond what he cared to acknowledge. it was affecting his mind and body like a drug, just as addictive and potent as if he'd ingested it rather than simply heard it: his mouth was dry and felt as though it were filled with cotton wool, leaving him with a scratchy throat and a tongue that was better suited to the work of a paperweight than its original purpose; his skin was gradually getting coated with a thin sheen of sweat and flushing deeply as his heart rate picked up under the influence of the song, a confusing mixture of arousal and embarrassment sending heat coursing through his veins; his cock was aching painfully against the confines of his work clothes, straining and throbbing in ways that left his mind racing with the unfamiliarity of just how hard it was getting.

all unfamiliar, but far from unwelcome or uncomfortable, he managed to note to himself.

and then, just as suddenly as it began, it all came to an end as the song concluded; snake regaining awareness of the world beyond her and becoming thoroughly flustered at the state she had left him in without much effort — or even realisation of the effects he had suffered. or, rather, she was unaware until she turned her head to look at him and took in his appearance once again, swallowing thickly and averting her gaze as she offered her help in a voice barely loud enough for him to hear.

"i... oh goodness," she licked her lips, a movement he couldn't help but follow with his eyes, "would you like any help with... that?"

and how could he possibly say no to such an offer, previous inhibitions be damned.

————

cautious, gentle hands find purchase on gaunt shoulders as she moves to sit on his lap in a single fluid motion - resting most of her weight on her own bent legs that rested on either side of his own. her touch was thoughtful and light, as it often was, giving him ample time to push her away or deny her before she accepted his compliance and leaned forwards to pepper featherlight kisses along the underside of his jaw; taking a slow and deliberate path from one side to the other whilst occasionally gently biting at the flushed skin and revelling in the muffled groans and gasps that escaped her quiet partner.

after a minute or so, snake finally began to move, his actions clumsy and curious yet endearing and arousing all the same in their effect on her. large hands started grasping at her body, starting with the meat of her thighs (groping and gripping them with a refreshing harshness that was too uncertain and short lived to have been intentional) before moving upwards to caress her sides — showing full appreciation for her hips, waist and breasts from their position in such a way that it coaxed low moans and whimpers from her lips.

though she quickly tired of the restrictive nature of their current position and pulled away, pecking his lips briefly before speaking up once again.

"why don't we — ah —" his hands reached up to grope her breasts, interrupting her mid sentence, "why don't we lay down? i want to see what we're doing."

and though he didn't respond verbally, he complied by shuffling back and allowing her to straddle his waist as he laid down on the tattered sheets — hissing through his teeth when she grazed his painfully hard length with her clothed cunt; a gesture she mimicked in part as she reached down with one hand to shove the thin material to one side and used the other to pull her costume down to her stomach, exposing her chest to the cool evening air.

————

she truly was a sight to behold, and he gladly took a few moments to admire everything in front of him with wide eyes and a throbbing sex: breasts heaving and slick with sweat from the rising heat of the confined tent, with hardening nipples that he couldn't help but bring to his mouth, sucking and pinching them as she moaned and keened at the sensation; pupils blown wide as she stared down at him with pure lust and want, ideas so utterly foreign to him that it sent new waves of heat careening through his body — crawling up his neck and racing down to his sex; a puffy cunt dripping with a slick that he longed to taste and ached to sink into in the same breath, the sight leaving his mouth salivating and the scent so strong and intoxicating that it left his mind racing.

and then, finally, she freed him from the confines of his trousers and guided his tip along the length of her slit, gathering plentiful slick (all the while unabashedly moaning and whining at the sensation) before bringing him to her gushing entrance and slowly sank down — taking every inch of his cock into her tight, warm heat until she finally bottomed out with her head thrown back and her palms resting on his cool chest. his hands found purchase on her hips in an almost instinctual motion as they took several moments to adjust, drawing circles into the flesh with his fingertips as he caught his breath, admiring the view of her on top of him: trembling, inhaling deeply with each breath and covered in a thin layer of sweat as she remained still for as long as she needed.

but stillness couldn't sate them forever and, after a good few moments, she finally started to move; starting off slow and cautious as she rose until only the very tip of his length was inside of her before gradually bottoming out once more — each time coaxing more bitten groans and low moans from the man beneath her. then, once she had found her footing, she became more confident in her actions and started going faster — still taking him deeply each time though being much less cautious as she sought out her release in tandem with her partner.

this obvious show of confidence and self-assuredness was enough to bring snake back to the present as he fell into a rhythm with her, his actions much sloppier and shakier than hers yet complimenting her pace in a most wonderful way that had their toes curling and their mouths falling open in unabashed bliss.

the whole thing was so perfectly imperfect in nature: one of his hands rested on her hip where it had begun, his grip harsher than he would usually allow as he partially guided her to bounce on his sex whilst the other migrated up her body to toy with her exposed tits — paying particular attention to her hardened nipples as he had before; her nails dug several half moons into the supple, pale expanse of his chest, the marks branding him in a not-entirely-unpleasant manner as the stinging pain blended with the building pleasure in his mind, the scratches and shallow cuts just another set of blemishes deemed unremarkable in the shadow of his scales; his throbbing cock stretched out her warm gummy walls with each deep thrust, brushing against her sweet spot every so often and causing more slick to pour out of her cunt and dampen the spattering of hair about the base of his length; her pace gradually getting faster and shallower as time went on, relying more on his arrhythmic upward thrusts than her own movements as the pain in her legs grew more severe and notable — but even that did not deter her from seeking her high.

intoxicating. addicting. enchanting. hypnotic.

it made his head spin in the most amazing way - he almost didn't want it to end.

————

she could feel the muscles in her abdomen constricting in an all too familiar motion; coiling tighter and tighter with each collision of his length with her g-spot, offering the promise of sweet release that left her throat dry and heart racing. so, almost mindlessly, she moved one hand between her thighs to toy with her swollen clit with trembling fingers — crying out airily at the sudden wave of pleasure and falling forward onto the man beneath her (who just barely managed to catch her as he continued to thrust into her with increasingly sloppy motions).

then, finally, she felt herself come undone entirely, falling over the precipice of her personal nirvana with a loud and incoherent cry: tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and slipped down her cheeks from the intensity of her climax as snake continued to pleasure her; a string of cusses, whimpers, whines, moans and blasphemes spilled from her lips, herself barely able to hear what she said, almost as though she were underwater; her limbs grew semi limp and trembled severely, weak and unsupported as her orgasm left her lost entirely in her own mind; her chest was heaving with the combined painful pounding of her heart and the ache of her lungs as they begged for air through the incoherent muttering of her fucked-out mind.

too much; not enough. everything hurt; she couldn't feel a thing. her mind was racing; she couldn't think of a single thing other than the feeling of him inside her, stretching her out in that addictive way.

she barely even realised when he pulled out of her to come on her stomach, only whining childishly at the loss of fullness and not acknowledging the spillage of sticky release that now coated her heated skin; too far gone to care.

when she was in her right mind she would catch her breath and use a torn part of the sheets to clean herself off; she'd turn to her partner and make sure he was okay as she readjusted her costume to make herself more presentable. she’d adopt that cheerful persona she put on for the crowd and help him come back down and offer him water and reunite him with his dear companions before watching him walk away, never expecting to see him again.

not everything needed a forever; not everything needed to be something. this was enough — but that would be a thought for when she had recovered, not yet.

#female reader #sleepingdeath #minors fuck off #minors do not interact #minors dni #black butler smut #kuroshitsuji smut #smut oneshot #smut #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler snake #black butler snake x reader #kuroshitsuji snake #kuroshitsuji snake x reader #female reader smut #18+ fic

[chilly-me-softly]

imagine little mounty on holidays with mase and maybe some of his friends (like nathan, ben or declan). Like they try that alice is not sunburn and they try to maintain her occupied doing things

A little holiday among friends before leaving with their families was what the boys organised every summer. Ben, Declan, Phil and Mason had even spent the last few national camps talking about it, looking forward to spending those days between the beach and good food and starting getting a tan.

Mason was looking forward to it, although he had already made endless lists of what he might need. Of course he would take Alice with him, when the season was over unless he saw it wasn't worth it, the little girl was always with him. And then Phil would bring Ronnie so she certainly wouldn't get bored, the two of them were almost the same age and the few times they had been together they hadn't given any trouble.

The villa they rented was magnificent, with more rooms than they would have needed and a breathtaking view. Alice is asleep in her father's arms while Ronnie has not yet run out of energy and runs around the kitchen counter happily.

Mason decides to put the child to bed before exploring the house further, easily finding the rooms upstairs. He takes the last one down the hallway, absentmindedly placing the duffle bag in the corner and gently Alice on the big bed. The boys - Declan - had asked him if he had wanted to put a cot or a separate bed for Alice - because you might want to bring a girl - but he had categorically refused. He was not looking for anything but a nice relaxing holiday.

After making sure with pillows that she wouldn't fall, Mason lightly closes the door before going downstairs in search of the others. He has the baby monitor in his hands, which he quickly set up and places on the coffee table before sitting down on the lounge chair next to Ben's.

"Is she asleep?"

"Yeah" he smiles at his friend before lying down and sighing. There is a certain calm in knowing they are on holiday, with no particular obligation or commitment pending. And they stand there talking to each other about what to do that very evening and the next morning, the first bath of the season a highly anticipated thing for everyone.

"I'll go get Alice" Mason informs them when he doesn't know how long later a small, still sleepy voice can be heard calling him from the baby monitor. When he returns to the garden Phil has disappeared, probably checking on Ronnie or on the phone who knows, and he lays Alice down on Ben's sun lounger checking with his eyes that she doesn't fall over and smiling as she goes to snuggle up to him.

"Hey little one, slept well?" she nods still visibly not quite awake as Ben strokes her hair.

"Hot" the little one complains and Mason is immediately ready to go into apprehensive daddy mode, starting to notice her slightly red cheeks, but he doesn't have time to say or do anything because Ben has already worked it all out. 

"How about we braid this beautiful hair?"

"Dad can't do it"

"Yeah I know, too bad" Ben gives him an amused look as he carefully sets to work.

"Hey you two, stop messing with me" Mason pretends to be annoyed by putting on his sunglasses and settling down better on his deckchair, Alice joining him shortly after to wrap her small arms around his body and proudly showing him her new hairstyle.

-

Now Ben is inevitably stuck with Alice, who looks for him every morning to get her hair braided. And then they go down to the beach, each time seeming to be moving among the children's toys and the various bags with things in them.

Ben immediately went for a swim while the others just sat and relaxed, keeping an eye on the kids who were immediately on the ground playing in the sand.

Declan manages to put some lotion on the children when he sees that the sun is getting higher and higher in the sky, and not with little effort. It's practically a trade off, a sort of I put it on you and you put it on me. And the various knees he takes in the kidneys when it's their turn he won't easily forget.

They have fun, play in the sand and go into the water or walk around letting the waves hit their feet. The children's squeals are the loudest, happy to explore and play and just be there.

And when a few hours later Mason finds himself asleep on the towel, the relaxation and the sea air and the sun doing its job, the opportunity presents itself before their eyes with the kids - and not just them - burying his legs. After all, they have to be entertained somehow.

Little Mounty

#mason mount #ben chilwell #declan rice #phil foden #mason mount one shot #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #football imagines #little mounty

[pl9090]

[Personal headcanon] Gallifreyan

Disclaimer: As the title says this is just how I think of and use what I consider to be the main fan created Gallifreyan font/languages. This is not me attempting impose it on everyone else as a definitive organisation just as reference for my work following this to avoid confusion.

Old High Gallifreyan: https://fontstruct.com/fontstructions/show/666099/archaic_gallifreyan

Modern Linear Gallifreyan: https://fontstruct.com/fontstructions/show/657463/assassin_s_gallifreyan

Timelord Circular/History coding: (Doctor's Cot) http://doctorscotgallifreyan.com/

Faction Paradox Circular/alt time coding: (Shermans) https://shermansplanet.com/gallifreyan/

#faction paradox #book of the war #timelords #doctor who #great houses #gallifreyan #assassin's gallifreyan #circular gallifreyan #Doctor's Cot #old high gallifreyan #linear gallifreyan #sherman's gallifreyan #font #alt time #history coding #bbc doctor who #dr who #whoniverse

[cabezadeperro]

codywan sleep bingo #4: sleep positions: on back

hello! one @codywansleepbingo​ fill more!

takes place during the war, early in their relationship. they’re still finding their way and learning each other.

word count: ~1k

read on ao3

as always, bingo under the cut

---

The room’s dark and quiet when Cody lets himself inside. Obi-Wan’s lying on his cot on his back, his blanket tangled around his legs and a slight frown on his face. The bruise on his cheek is closer to green than to yesterday’s purple, and the scrapes high up on his forehead have fresh stitches.

He’ll be fine: he’s just bruised to hell and back, and the worst of it is on his front. Cody wasn’t there, too busy organising the retreat, but he’s read the reports, and he’s been on the other side often enough he can picture it just fine.

It’s been a while since he got hurt this bad. It caught Cody by surprise: he was told the general lived, that he had left the field on his own two feet, but—but.

Cody pauses in the middle of the room. Kenobi’s waking up, his fair lashes trembling. Maybe he should just leave: maybe he should just let him sleep. Maybe Cody should just go to sleep himself: he’s so tired he feels half-drunk, his limbs heavy. But he’s still jittery from the stims, and his mouth is dry, and he didn’t actually plan to come here, it just—happened.

And then Kenobi opens his eyes and it’s way too late. He frowns at the ceiling of his bunk, groaning quietly, and then he shifts on the bed, like he’s thinking about sitting up. He pauses with a nasty curse, one of the ones in Huttese Skywalker’s so fond of. Cody snorts and shakes his head. He moves closer, his armour out of place in the small, warm room, and when Kenobi twitches a hand in his direction he sighs and drops on the edge of the narrow cot.

Kenobi has big hands, bigger than his, and they’re always very warm. It occurs to Cody that he wishes he had thought to take off his gloves before stepping inside, and then Kenobi finds the seam between his blacks and the gauntlet, slips dry fingertips until they rest against Cody’s palm, and fondness is sudden and awful and overwhelming. Cody clears his throat.

“How’re the bruises?” he asks, keeping his voice low. Kenobi twists his head on the pillow to look at him, eyes glittering in the dark. “The bruises are fine. Thriving, I’d say. Can’t say the same about me, however,” he replies. Cody snorts. “I have been told I will live.” “Lucky you.” “Yes. Lucky me.”

Kenobi doesn’t believe in luck. If he’s being honest, Cody thinks he doesn’t either. He believes in fortune, and in coincidence, and in chance: he doesn’t believe in luck, either good or bad.

“Everything alright? Retreat went well?”

Cody hums. He shakes himself free and starts taking off the gauntlets, Kenobi’s eyes on his hands. He has a thing about hands, Kenobi. Or maybe just about Cody’s hands.

The knowledge is—intoxicating. The certainty that Kenobi wants him. Sometimes, Kenobi looks at him the way he’s doing right now—eyes hot and heavy and focused, like Cody is some kind of celestial body and Kenobi’s caught in his orbit—and it makes Cody want to do something stupid, something reckless.

Cody finishes with his gauntlets and leans down to kiss him, beard rough and soft at once against his lips. Kenobi tastes sour, and Cody knows that so does he, but when he licks into Kenobi’s mouth he sighs and shivers, his hands on Cody’s face, cradling his jaw, trying to pull him closer. Cody places one hand on his chest, pushes down carefully, and Kenobi gasps, shaky and hoarse and good, and when Cody leans away he finds the general staring at him, eyes on fire and mouth half open, skin flushed under the bruises and the freckles and the grime.

Cody licks his lips. He feels hot and sweaty under his blacks, still in his armour.

“You’re not supposed to move,” he says. His voice is shot: Kenobi shivers. “Says who,” he replies. He smiles.

They don’t do this. Sure, Cody’s fucked him a few times, one of them in one of the storage rooms of Secura’s Venator, but they don’t do this.

The thing is: he wants to.

Cody says nothing. He smiles back. Kenobi’s wearing just a thin shirt, and the skin of his chest feels so hot it burns through the fabric.

“Yes,” Cody says. His thumb finds a nipple. He does nothing about it, just leaves it there, resting on the small bump of flesh, and doesn’t miss the way Kenobi shivers. “Retreat went well.”

They lost a few squads. Acceptable losses, they’ll say. Cody blinks and puts the thought aside.

Kenobi’s watching him. He wants to squirm, to move, Cody can see it in the nervous twitch of his fingers, but he’s keeping himself very still.

“You see, general,” Cody says. He leans closer, closer, his weight pressing down carefully on Kenobi’s chest, his thumbnail catching on fabric and skin. “I’m very good at this.”

Kenobi snorts. He’s half-laughing, half-groaning, and his hand is hot and heavy on the back of Cody’s neck. He leaves it there, doesn’t try to pull him closer, and Cody rewards him with a dry, caste kiss on his cheek. Kenobi smells of bacta and sweat and hot metal: Cody breathes him in, and something he doesn’t quite want to look at head on shifts and settles within his chest.

He can feel it against his palm when Kenobi speaks, chest rumbling.

“You’re a kriffing menace, commander mine,” he says. Cody lets himself smirk. “Kamino’s finest, sir,” he drawls. Kenobi laughs again, ends up wheezing in pain, and Cody’s always known he’s not a very nice person, but he can’t find it in himself to feel bad about it.

Cody kisses him one last time and moves away. Kenobi lets him go, his hand caressing the back of his neck, his jaw, resting on his throat for a beat before falling away. Cody swallows and grabs his gauntlets before making himself step away from the cot. Kenobi’s watching him sleepily, eyes bright with—something.

“Goodnight, sir,” Cody says.

He swallows. The bed’s too small for two: it wouldn’t work. Kenobi’s smile goes droopy and tiny, like he can see what Cody’s thinking.

“Goodnight, Cody.”

#codywan #codywan sleep bingo #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #maría writes #i've had a few very shitty days lately and writing these is helping me a lot #my other current projects are much. harder #and these are just fun

[fruit-salad-ship]

Gladiator AU thoughts time! Plum is hosting a party. Lot of rich people, lot of food and a lot of drinking. Overall, not a fun time for Peach but the job is the job. A crazy party could be the perfect cover for an assassination. One very drunk snob compliments Plum on her new purchase (Peach). Calling her an interesting find and asking her how much. The final straw for Plum was when he offered near double to buy Peach off of her.

I am SO sorry, I got super caught up in this, I've been playing AC odysee too so that didnt help, kind of went off on one. Feel free to not delve into this, because its a bit wordy.

I need so much more of this AU to be a thing...

It had been a month. Peach wrestled with bad dreams every night since, not that it was all that different from her cot in the arena’s depths. At least here she could lock her door and feel like no one would creep up in the dark and catch her unawares. The numerous midnight fights she’d been forced to partake in, other gladiators and staff, even visiting nobles making the assumption that as a woman, she could be had, an item to take, or buy, to claim as their own. She’d ashamedly not won all those fights, nor dodged all those bargains thanks to her old boss, but from that she learnt to sleep lightly, small stints, every sound alerting her, be fierce so no one dares get too close. Even in her new quaint little locked room she kept a dagger beneath her pillow. Everywhere and everyone was danger, just so happened she’d become pretty dangerous too over the years.

Her job that very next day seemed miles apart, escort the lady of the house, that’s it, no fight to the death, no training until your arms ached and legs shook. Plum wandered from shop to shop, business deals mostly, but a little leisure, in passing handing out neatly written invites to some party she was throwing. Every so often she’d turn to Peach, her stoic calm presence flawlessly intimidating to others, and ask her a question. ‘Do you like this kind of fruit?’ ‘What do you think about this colour?’ ‘Which should I choose?’ All of which peach did not really know how to answer. She had spent her life not experiencing much of anything, and now plum was making it her job to expose her to as much as possible, to discover who she was and what she did and didn’t like. Every day a new choice would come forth, and this was peach’s new daily battle, her new arena was deciding what colour she preferred. It felt kind of pointless, petty even, but she humoured her boss none the less. It was after all, her job. Be compliant, play along.

Well this was all amounting to this event, quite the ordeal. Grey had security details increased, several staff on rotors day and night, Peach was paired with one or two other men, all of which made her uneasy, not that she showed it. They were nice enough people, not at all like the folks she’d mixed with in her life, but all the same, better to be on guard than to let people get the drop on you. Staff all over the grounds were tending mainly, cooking, taking deliveries day and night, polishing, decorating, organising. Peach had never seen so much flamboyance in one place. The flower arrangements were the one thing of it all she truly stopped to take in, Plum did indeed pick out something quite special with those. You didn’t see flowers much in the arena, the fighter didn’t know their names, or much about them at all, but Grey being observant noticed her looking them over while bustling around, pausing to catch the rare sight of his newest member of staff being…dare he say it, soft? His approach was loud on purpose, make sure not to sneak up on her, be obvious. “They’re nice right?” His head tipped towards the arrangements in their large vases, noticing Peach back away from them, reinstating her usual hostile posture. “Sure.” She was closing down, playing it tough, and Grey saw an opportunity to follow up on a task Plum had set him, to try to encourage their new addition to make some kind of personal choice, even a small one.

“What one do you like the most?” The question was pointless to Peach, she had been caught out slacking, was pretty sure this was some kind of trap to check see if she was doing her job or not. She shrugged her shoulders stiffly, not saying much of anything. The man tried to soften a little, perhaps he’d come off as intimidating, all she ever seemed to do was shy away from him. “Flowers have meanings you know.” It wasn’t difficult to spot the scar on the side of his hand as he raised one to point at a big white blousy bloom that rose like a spear “Maybe these? They’re called Gladioli, or ‘little sword’ they’re a symbol of strength.” They were pretty sure, but very bold. Peach couldn’t help but let her eye wander over them. “Seems like odd knowledge for a guard to have.” Grey laughed under his breath a little, picking out a more delicate sprig from a Lower point, its small white flowers almost glowing with how the light hit them. “My mother grew a lot of flowers for market, we all had to help with harvest time and selling, guess I retained some of it.” He held out a small leaved branch, taken from the display without leaving a gap, nor changing its appearance, waiting for peach to take it, her hesitant grasp of it eventually allowing him to step away. “That feels more your speed.” He had annoyingly picked out the one her eye was drawn to the most, it seemed to fill gaps in the display more than stand front and centre, next to the more bold flowers it was subtle and dainty. As he walked away back to his job his pace was paused, hearing the woman speak up much to his delight. “What’s it called?” He hardly turned, glancing over his shoulder to try to be a little more nonchalant about her sudden interest. “It’s Myrtle, a wedding flower normally, associated with love and innocence.” He didn’t see her response, keeping his back to her to continue towards his next job. He missed her glance at it, and her brow scrunching a bit, and thankfully for peach, the slight redness to her cheeks. She shook it off, went to put the flower back, but…felt compelled. No one was around, and it was so expertly removed you’d never know it was missing from the display. It got tucked under her red cloak in her armour as gently as she could manage, out of sight, a little secret she tried to protect as she went back to patrol. Her route allowed her to pass by her room, ducking out for a brief moment to quickly place the little sprig in a chipped cup, pouring some water in for it, placed on the window ledge along side three rocks she had picked up that were of interest to her. For a brief moment, with no eyes on her, and no one to see, there was a small hint of a smile on her face, sure it was a little damaged from being hidden away, but that didn’t stop it being kind of beautiful. She carried that somewhat better mood with her on patrol, thinking about it whenever the day was slow.

Grey had passed by Plum’s office, she was busy picking out songs to be played, seeing the musicians amble out of the door as he grew close, giving her a gentle smile as she leant back in her chair, a little tired from the looks of it. “You should get some fresh air, feel the sun for a moment.” He was right, she truly needed to get up and stretch her legs, pacing over from behind the sturdy desk to hook her arm through his. “Lead the way. I trust everything going smoothly your end?” She enjoyed hearing his stories, about his day, as he muddled through all the jobs done, what had been brought at market for the event, the deliveries received, if everyone was alright. They paced down an elegantly arched walkway, the garden bathed in sunshine, finally stepping out into it. It truly was nice to have some heat on her shoulders, waving to one of her gardeners who paused to smile in her direction. “There was one development with your little pet project.” “How is she?” The worry in her tone crept in, was it bad? Was Peach ok? She’d been worried that a party this big would be a lot for her to handle, she wasn’t very well adjusted to social gatherings, but the fighter assured her she’d handle it. “Oh she’s fine. You know how she is, can more than handle herself. Caught her eyeing the flower displays though.” A bright glint in plum’s eyes met Grey’s, a beaming smile following. “Really? What for? Did you ask? Tell me everything.” It was quite entertaining to imagine someone so brutal pausing to enjoy anything due to beauty. “She went through the motions, stiffened up, avoided conversation. I gave her a sprig of Myrtle before leaving, she didn’t know I’d peaked back at her. She went to put it back but tucked it away. Later I saw her dip into her room briefly. Been in a good mood since then. Pretty sure when I walked past her window I saw it in the sun with water on the ledge.” Plums grip on his arm tightened as she wiggled him a little with excitement, a squeak of delight, his gear clinking as she did this. “Thats the best news I’ve had all day!” They continued to amble through the gardens, sweet smells and passing butterflies making it truly an excellent break. Plum’s shoulders slumped into a satisfied sigh. “It’d be so nice if she could just learn to live a little while she’s here. Getting her to decide anything for herself is like getting blood from a stone.” Both could attest to that, she truly had spent 20 odd years being downtrodden, and it showed. “Maybe the party will be painless enough…I hope. You tell her to step out if she’s overwhelmed you hear?” Plums stern gaze set on an elegant water feature, the sound calming. “You know she’ll never shirk her job for her personal needs. Thats not how they trained her, she’ll suffer the discomfort.” Both sat in a quiet contemplation, hoping things would remain calm and safe.

When the party finally came around that evening, as the sun began to set guests arrived. Most in beautiful carts pulled by fine horses. Their staff carried goods and gifts in, receiving wine and kind greetings from the hostess and her entourage of helpers. It was surely a lively get together. Grey maintained a steady shift of guards, making sure everyone got a break, taking special note of their new member. Peach was stoic and cold as ever. She didn’t react to guests looking at her, hardly said a word as she worked. Some guests tried to engage her in conversation, but Plum swiftly intervened and lured they away with promise of more drink, an interesting story, even a peak at her latest business exchanges. She was networking, but trying to keep people away from Peach as best she could. The woman stood in more ceremonial gear, a little more elegant and showy than her usual, shined and tended. It was…different to say the least. She’d only had to wear this once before to accompany Plum to a legal event in town. The fit wasn’t to her tastes, and it lacked some vital protection in some areas, but this was what was required for the job, and so she did it without argument or question.

Glancing across the room was a regular thing for the hostess, she’d tried to not drink too much, kept her eye on the woman by the door who kept diligent watch. This act did not go unnoticed but the guests, one of which approached, his fine robes and decorated hands a show of his wealth.“Quite the find, you must have paid a lot for that one.” His short hair and angular face was typical of the location, a strong profile, sipping wine as he too looked towards the woman guarding the entrance. “She’s certainly an asset to security.” He swirled his vessel before sipping once more, eyes firmly set on the fighter.“Does she still fight?” The pair perched on plush benches lined with finely made pillows.“She certainly does, friendly matches amongst the staff, practice bouts to keep well practiced and sharp.” “I’m surprised you removed her from the arena scene, she could increase in value if she keeps winning. You could sell her again to make a tidy profit. She’s still healthy, strong, has a few more fighting years in her yet I’m sure.” Plum maintained composure, despite how he struck a nerve.“It’s not worth losing good staff over. She could very well die in the pits.” His frame seemed to lounge back, an air of indifference.“She’s just a slave, what does it matter? You can always buy another. Or a dozen I bet for the price you paid.” This guy was a very wealthy merchant who shipped in silks and dyes, Plum was trying hard not to get on his bad side, he could be of value. Instead of taking the bait, of getting mad, she stood, excused herself, and snuck away for a moment for some fresh air, leant on a balcony overlooking her compound. That man was a foul creature, she truly was struggling with his conversation.

Peach noticed her boss slink her way across the room for some fresh air, still within her sight, she didn’t have to change where she was stood, instead overlooking the mass of drunks in the room, some laughing too loud, others eating, all with wine in their hands and a song in the air from the small group of musicians that were posted up in a corner. This had been a pretty dull shift, no trouble, nothing to worry over, Grey handled the outside, Peach and several others the inside. It was late, no doubt this party would go on for hours yet however, a fact that drained her just thinking about it. A very angular man had been eyeing her the whole night, a look that made her incredibly uncomfortable, but she’d managed to ignore it so far. That was until he finally approached. Perhaps full of liquid courage, or just simply tired of being mildly polite in his dealings. With Plum out of earshot, maybe he had even been waiting for her to step away. His body was draped with royal blues and golds, truly colours of opulence, one hand outstretched towards her, fingers brushing some of her hair to one side. Peach’s default reaction was to sneer, but did not move, he was drunk, she couldn’t kill a guest of this caliber. This wasn’t a threat to her employer, just an irritation to her.“You really are quite something. Like a fragment of Mars himself…” His hand fell on her shoulder, squeezing a little, feeling the muscle, incredibly tense, so much so he was quick to release his grasp with a sly if not shocked grin. He hardly looked her in the eye, instead focusing on the rest of this daunting woman, who seemed set in stone. It took everything for Peach not to bash this man with her shield, eyes glancing to where she last saw Plum, her actual job, to keep watch of her. The elegant woman had noticed what was happening and started to make her way across the room, intervened by another drunken party goer, a woman who held her up with loud conversation and praise for the events success. “How would you like to go back to your glory days? You’re wasted here in this mansion as a guard. You belong in battle-“ His form leant in, up to her ear to whisper, cutting through the music and the jovial energy in the room, an act that made the guards stomach turn. “You and I could have a lot of fun, make a lot of coin, keep each other company.” He moved back but not too far to give her adequate personal space, sipped his drink and looked at her over the vessel. She couldn’t say anything, it would all be seen as rude or hostile, she’d get in trouble for it, no question. Instead the guard stood there, her firmly set scowl showing no signs of faltering, he was not getting the message however.“Sorry I stepped away for so long, are you after something? I can get staff to fetch you whatever you’d like-“ “I’ll buy her from you.” He did not take his eyes off Peach, Plum standing looking up at this man in bewilderment, catching her composure.“She’s not for sale I’m afraid-““Nonsense! Everything has a price.” He glanced down to plum with a narrowing gaze. “I’ll pay 20% more than you did. Look, she’s been out of the fighting ring for a while, her price will decrease the longer she’s not racking wins up.” Plum managed to contain her anger, smile sweetly and place a hand on her guards arm in comfort, or even protection.“Like I said, she’s not for sale.” Her stern calm tone started to creep out, the smile disarming, and yet he would not back down, glancing back to peach who’d stayed perfectly still and quiet. Trying not to focus on the few people close by who were catching wind of this conversation.

He had caught sight of her brace, certainly more ornate, the corner of a telling mark only just visible. His hand grabbed her wrist and pulled it tightly to be face up. The unquestionable brand of slavery burnt into her, holding it as if to present it to the guards owner, a reminder of what she was.“She’s property to be bought and sold, she has a price. Everything has a price.” This act made Peach incredibly uncomfortable, visibly seeing her expression turn from anger to embarrassment, tearing her hand away from him to tightly tuck it against her side. She hated that mark, her normal braces covered it completely, this fancy party gear was too revealing, regardless of her overwhelming thoughts of hurting this man, she still managed to keep her cool, one asshole was not going to push her over the edge, this was not the worst she’d dealt with. The man turned to look at her wide eyed, the gaul to retract her hand from him so forcefully, something no slave was to do, not to nobles of any caliber. You could see both women assessing the situation, Plum was calculating her approach to this, trying to maintain trade options with him, but so far he was doing everything wrong with her, and with the woman she’d swore to help be free of this exact thing. While he was initially angry, the man stood straighter, smiled at her, as if scheming or even mildly impressed with her courage, and turned once more to plum.“I’ll pay double. You could purchase two dozen others for that price, all of adequate quality, younger, less damaged, so you can get more work years from them.” He gestured to the scars on the guards arm, the one not covered by her red cloak, glancing down at the leg that was revealed, also littered with old wounds. “She’s not going to last long anyway, may as well replace her before you’re the one stuck footing the bill to get her body removed when she inevitably slips up, bites off more than she can chew.” His disgustingly handsy behaviour went to run his fingers down this clearly uncomfortable woman’s cheek, but a smaller more refined hand gabbed it tight, stopped him. Plum, her anger tipping over, wormed her way between Peach and this opulent asshole, forcing him to take a step back with her behaviour, her grip fierce, rougher than he could have expected from someone so small.“You need to leave this place. Now.” She threw his hand back at him forcefully, her free arm extending back to take Peach’s hand, squeeze it, an act the guard didn’t understand. What was she doing? She was acting as if the man wasn’t right in his assumptions. “For what? Offering you an incredible deal? Dont be so emotional. You women always find ways to twist a good thing!” It took no time for two other guards posted on the other side of the room to be there, Plum had eyed them over this mans shoulder, their approach imminent. “For not hearing me when I said no, a very telling practice in business, I’d not want to partner with someone so single minded and self centred.” The guards joined, and with Plum’s nod placed a hand on the mans shoulder “Dont come back here, you treat people like cattle. It’s disgusting.” The slew of obscenities that left the mans mouth were unkind and filthy, insulting Plum, degrading Peach, and catching everyones attention in the room, many guests turning to see what the commotion was. The hostess smiled, laughed, grabbed her wine, and raised it in celebration, to coax the guests into a calmer state, her sweet demeanour returning in an instant. “Some just cant handle their drink!” Not many had caught the topic at hand, all simply happy to continue their merriment, cheering and focusing back on their conversations. The situation was diffused quickly, leaving Plum to turn and look up at her member of staff. “You ok?” Peach nodded, returning to her position as if nothing had happened, brushing it aside, squashing down any residual shame or rage that tried to creep out. Her job wasn’t to get mad, it was to guard, and that was something she could do, even if her mind wandered the whole time.

When her shift finally ended, and the party goers went home, Peach was freed to ditch the fancy gear, returning to regular clothes, slinking off to her room quietly. The door was locked, and she was freed to rest, mind running over the events of the party. Plenty happened, but that man really got under her boss’ skin. It was normal to Peach, this was the nature of her existence, and sure once upon a time it made her angry, but now days it hardly evoked much of a reaction at all. She kicked herself for the brief moment of sadness that crept in during the fiasco, weakness. A knock at her door snapped her from the thought, getting up to see who was calling, a dagger tucked in the back of her belt before answering. She however was greeted with the small frame of Plum, her arms full with flowers in a simple vase, all that same species in the chipped cup in her window. Peach said nothing, waited for some kind of instruction or task to be given too her. “I’m sorry about that man today. He had no right to act like that.” That felt like a joke, he in fact had every right, nothing he said was a lie, just a bitter reality. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Plums brow furrowed at her staff’s complacency about the topic, holding the vase she carried out towards the woman. Peach took it, confused, did she have to take this somewhere? Her quizzical expression was all that was needed, Plum laughed quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “For the hard work, for putting up with that man, for not breaking his arm…although I kind of wish you had.” She chuckled, and even Peach was able to let a smile slip at the thought of hurting him. But this still didn’t make much sense to her, awkwardly holding this thing, a huge bunch of those little delicate white flowers filling the room with a herbal scent. “I…what do I do with this?” a finger pointed specifically to the vase, though simple, it lacked crack or chip, it was finely made with two curved handles either side, not something she’d ever have held or some into contact with in her life outside of patrolling this woman’s home. “Whatever you want, it’s yours. The meadows outside of town have some nice things to put in it when those die, perhaps you could go there on a day off.” For a moment plum got caught up looking at this woman, she looked so lost for someone so capable. This tall, broad, muscular lady who didn’t know what to do with a gift. She however seemed so much softer in her casual togas and soft fabrics, holding flowers, hair messily falling to one side. It took a lot to pull herself away from her, realising she’d perhaps been watching her a little bit too long. “Oh, and here.” Plum rummaged in a little satchel on her side, handed the woman something wrapped in leaves, and smiled. “Get some rest, ok?” Unsure of the correct reaction, Peach was left standing with this huge vase of flowers, a weird little parcel, watching her boss walk her way back to the house. It clicked the proper thing to be done, the guard leaning out the door and calling after her. “Thank you!” Seeing Plum glance back, smile and continue to leave.

Back inside with the door once again locked, the fighter set this way too nice vase down on the small table by the window. It…felt out of place for her to have something like this, she wasn’t a thief, so why did it feel like she was right now? Maybe she could sneak the vase back into the main house, just in case someone blamed her for taking it…such a shame though, it really was nice. Aside from her Little Rock collection, and the sprig from grey in that little clay cup, this was the only decorative thing she had in the room. The first little shred of personality. Her tired body sat on the edge of her bed, still looking at them, eyes tracking to the other item, leaves? Tied with string. It smelt sweet. The dawns light filtered in, she should have slept, but instead rummaged for the book she hid under the bedside table, opening up the little package to investigate. Inside were three round little pastries, she’d seen them at the party, honey and poppy seeds, not something she’d had before, nor thought to try. There was a blissful moment where she sat back, a blanket that wasn’t itchy, a room that smelt of flowers, a snack that was possibly the best thing she’d ever eaten, a door she could lock, a window with a view of trees, and a book she was slowly managing to read now she had time to grow that skill. She had truly been lucky, thinking back to that day Plum and Grey walked in and negotiated to buy her from the arena, she thought for sure things would be just as bad if not worse.

#Roman AU #gladiator au #fruit salad #brainrot

[bigmack2go]

Newbie Newsies

Chapter index

Chapter one- The Basics. •

The versions of Newsies and where to find them

A sumary of the plot(s)

The fandom- an introduction

Getting around

Terms

…

Chapter two- Spot the newsies. •

The Newsies characters and names etc

How to recognise them

The actors (split into versions)

Oc’s

…

Chapter three- know•

Chapter four- the fandom(split into parts)

Number one- Fan’sies generally (1/6) •

Fansies- fannon (2/6)•

Oc’s

And popular headcannons

Fansies- ships (3/6)•

Fansies- content (4/6)•

Fanfiction

Tumblr

Amino

Cot sponlon

The kosa strike

Minibang

Fic exchange

Ask Newsies

Other popular projects organised by Fansies.

…

5/6: the cast- Fandom•

Other (-)•

Other.

Chapter four- five creators•

And where to find them

Chapter six- creators•

Artists

Writers

Roleplayers

…

Chapter seven- interact•

Find’sies

Platforms and more specifically

Interacting with the fandom

Talk (topics? And knowing whta people are talking abt)

“Mind!”

…

Chapter eight- historical recources and ways to find them•

Chapter nine- recommendations and promo•

Chapter ten- other•

EXTRA EXTRA- Bonus chapter 11: fun fact’sies

Part twelve: end credits. •

Click tag to see more

#newbie newsies #newsies

[irisbleufic]

Hi!! I don't know if you remember me, but I'm pretty sure we used to be tumblr mutuals a long time ago :) at any rate I LOVED your Good Omens fanfic, and once I drew the banner for a GO holiday exchange that I think you organised? My handle at the time was fieto, or ceci1y, or fietodraws. ANYHOW, I am very excited to have found you again! I just got back on Tumblr after being gone for probably 10?? years? I'm not really active in GO fandom anymore since the show came out (because I'm too obsessed with the book and can't bear to have my mental imagery from it replaced) but I'm trying to get back into drawing and sharing my art on the interwebs as you can see. :) My non-art-blog is @tw1nkbutch-blog, not sure if it's up your alley at all, but just wanted to let you know. I can't wait to reread all your fics at some point, and I am really happy to see you are still a writer (and a published one at that!) Hope this very long message wasn't weird or uncomfortable :D -Pallas

OH MY GOD, HELLO! It’s so good to see you again! I totally understand the need to take a break from social media.

I have a GO (CoT) bookmark you drew for me, or at least I hope I’m remembering rightly that it was you. I use it to this day 💙

[msfbgraves]

Does Terry think Daniel deserved his treatment of him that night where he raped him or? Does he think it’s okay and Daniel is making a big deal over what was nothing more than a hard fuck?

Disclaimer: as Terry has come to realise himself, his behaviour that night was inexcusable and "he's not that man anymore."

Well then: who is that man? What changed?

Imagine you're Terry Silver. You're an Alpha in a world that writes that word with a capital letter (and beta and omega look like this). You have gone through life taking what you want, by either smarts or violence. And then you took on a Don with an organisation several sizes too large for you, but you struck him at his weakest because you're smart like that, and you emerge with an alliance and an omega, at your age, and you feckin love that little brat, you have your first pup before the year is out because you're just that good. You're top fucking dog, literally, because not three months after the first you have him with pup again, so even there you're doing everything right, you're just that awesome. You're even a good boss with a very loyal crew and your sister, through your mechanations, is a Duchess. A Duchess! Through her, you're directly blood related to the 1% that would have spat on you coming up. You are an Alpha among Alphas.

Ah, but then.

Those Italians seem to think they're better than you. Even your boy has an attitude on him, and that's cute on him, but his siblings, especially that beta. He can't feckin get them to do what they ought to, which is what Terry Silver wants. All the little compromises they force him to make, the parallel loyalties going on. They're so tightly knit. He can't always put his finger on it, how they work. It's not his world. He's jealous. And that beta resists him, and is hard to play. But he, Terry, he won, didn't he, in even getting here? Why isn't he treated with the respect he's feckin entitled to? How does that Italian read him so well? That's his trick. Are they conspiring against him? Is his mate feeding his beta brother information? Who do any of them think they are? That boy is supposed to be a prize, a sacrifice to his power, and if he can't own the brother, he will own their beloved little family princeling. Because that boy is his and he'll show them... He took him before and he'll take him now, it's his feckin right! (He feels a bit muddled and amped up and ready to punch someone at this point but luckily sex is instinct, not reason, and lust and rage make a very potent cocktail.)

And he's firing on so many cilinders when he fucks, he's pure sensation, a raging conqueror, he's so fucking high. This could be heat sex, it's so intense. There's an edge of fear around it, but Terry Silver should be feared. And when he's fucked it all out he straight up drops, maybe even passes out.

Wakes up feeling like shit. Where's Daniel? Danny always makes things better...

And then he finds him clutching Robby, reaching out to Gianni in his little cot, and bodily on him, his three eldest loves, in full on protective mode, and that is when the first Alpha instinct pierces him ...

This is very bad. If anyone else had put his Danny in such a state, he'd be burning down the town to find them and bash their skulls in right now.

But there's nobody else. It can only have been him.

And there's rationalisations galore to be had in the aftermath of this. He might want to convince himself that this was a harder fuck than usual, no big deal. But right now, he's still mostly running on feral mode, which he knew he chose to let get the better of him, the way he usually only does when fighting an enemy. No mercy.

But this Danny. It's his mate.

And he fucked up and he knows. In his gut. Even the pups know.

This is bad.

That moment when he fucked him? He didn't care what Daniel thought because he wasn't thinking of him at all. And now, deep at night, his brain is not online enough to lie to himself about what is right in front of him - his omega in acute distress.

And this isn't the whole story, he'll tell himself a host of things in the coming days but it doesn't take away the horror of what he can see and feel is his own, terrible, fault.

#knights and pawns #silverusso #mob au #omegaverse #tw noncon #tw assault #entitlement

[torebelwasright]

september 15, 2014 — a day after a theorist attack on the american congress in washington d.c. both of them had seen this happen on the tv, though still in two separate houses. marisa had called to inform him she had something important to tell him and they should meet as soon as possible. her husband, unsurprisingly, had a business to attend in the capital city. once the news of the attack spread all over every news channel on tv, asriel was pretty convinced it was what marisa was going to share. after all they both heard whispers. both from one and the same person — edward coulter. his dear university friend and his lover's husband. he's been discreetly going on and on about the upcoming changes in the us government. asriel, once being an active man in politics, was encouraged to re-enter the former ranks and join a vast project that was going to greatly impact their futures as well as the whole country's. asriel had an important news to tell marisa as well.

the news of agreeing to her husband's proposal a week before he left boston. asriel's decision based on the undeniable tension that told him it was better to find himself in the eye of the storm and be informed first hand. the whole idea of forming an organisation called the sons of jacob. the name itself revolting at best, its ideas unthinkable for most people living in twenty first century. he wasn't informed of what would be the immense operation everyone within the organisation has been whispering about. officially, it was an isis organized action. they both knew, though, it wasn't the case. what he heard just seconds before, though, seemingly had nothing to do with the attack. nothing to do with the shaky politics. nothing to do with curtural changes. and yet it had everything to do with it.

❛ are you sure ? ❜

his hand pressed to his lips, brushed against his growth, taking in the news. it couldn't be happening now. the maternity units have been no more than a ghost for years now and most people would rejoice in the news. i'm pregnant ; the two words everyone in the modern world, all over the globe, wanted to hear. thought it was barely one small battle victory for many of those few lost the war by miscarriage, fatal generic illnesses and cot deaths. they would have gone though it. they could have easily lie the child was edward's. he had no reason to suspect his wife was in love with his old friend for three years now. they could have managed that. . . if not for the dynamic changes. it was all going to go down now. the fanatic plans were bound to become a reality once the most of the parliament members, along with the president, we killed in yesterday's attack. the government that was bound to be silently taken over by sons of jacob, who saw fertility as the most desired and treasurable of resources.

❛ we have to leave. . . i don't care how you will make him believe that you must go back to france — but we cannot stay here now. he cannot find out. ❜

————»»»»× @viciousgold ׫«««————

#✝ r.i.p #viciousgold #• | verse ; the handmiad’s tale ( main . ) #i .&amp;. marisa coulter #• | ( interaction ) marisa coulter