#i hate drawing buildings with a passion
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Turn your gaze to the Towers of the Grimlands, full of ashy steam, dark red dust, and the glow of lanterns lighting the streets and roofs for its residents.
Inktober Day 14: Castle
I gotta stop with these complicated Fwhip's-Empires Drawings
We're ignoring that I nearly forgot to get the (mostly) flat penning again lol.
Bonus bit for you readmore folk:
Since I'm having this placed after the events of the Poem Post ™️, you'll notice one of Fwhips wings look different. He's got a prosthetic wing :>
#fwhip#empires fwhip#empires smp#empiresblr#the grimlands#grimlands fwhip#mcyt#i hate drawing buildings with a passion#inktober#inktober 2023#inktober day 14#day 14 castle#ollie's art#⛏️
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for kinktober! 31 & 4 for remus x fem reader please?
love this request 💛 hope you enjoy!
word count: 1k (MDNI!)
4: morning sex 31: thigh riding
Warmth. And a slight heaviness. These are your first sensations upon waking, and it takes you only a moment to attach them to their source: a sleeping Remus wrapped around you.
You can tell by the colour of the light streaming through the sides of the curtains that you have to be up soon.
Enjoying what time you have, you push yourself back further into him, loving being his little spoon. Your shifting weight seems to stir him because you feel him move with you, and a second later you feel his nose nuzzle the back of your neck.
“Morning, lovely,” he whispers hoarsely.
“Morning,” you reply sweetly.
He kisses your neck where his face is, close to your ear, and you squirm a bit at the delightful tickle. The movement draws your attention further down behind you: Remus’s morning wood, hard and ready. You giggle and grind your arse teasingly into him.
“Mmmmm, no fair, sweetheart,” he complains.
“What?” you fake innocence.
“Very funny.” Another kiss. “C’mere.” Pulling your hip, he turns you around in his arms so you’re turning to face him. Face to face, you nudge his nose with yours.
“Hi,” you whisper.
Grinning, he says, “How can you be so bloody beautiful?”
“Whatever,” you blush, hiding your face in his neck. You feel him chuckle and kiss the top of your head, his hand coming to your hair.
His other hand, still on your hip, sneaks under the hem of your shirt, caressing your bare skin in soft circles.
You’re in bliss and hate that you have to get up so soon. You wish you could lay in bed with him for hours.
“Remus,” you whisper, pulling back so your faces are a breath away from each other.
“Hm, lovely?” he whispers back, running his nose along yours, scanning your features deliberately with adoring eyes.
“I love waking up to you,” you confide like it’s a secret.
The already warm honey of his eyes looks like its melting at your words.
“Sweetheart,” he starts, like you’ve just told him the kindest thing of your lives. You thought it was pretty obvious.
“I don’t think it can ever get old,” you continue, melting into the moment.
He’s beaming softly at you.
“I love you,” he tells you simply. He kisses you gently, lazily, but lingering longingly on your lips. “I get to wake up to my world in my arms.”
You look into his eyes for a heavy moment, letting his words dance into your heart. Then you bring his face back to yours, kissing him slow and hard.
He moans into your mouth, finds your rhythm, follows it a while, then accelerates it. It’s a passionate softness now.
“C’mere,” he pulls you again. He brings your chest completely flush with his and rotates a bit so that you’re half on top of him. You bring your leg between his and shift to be completely on top of him.
One of his thighs is between yours, and you’re squeezing all of him close in your drowsy pleasure. He shifts his weight to hold you tightly, and the movement of his thigh against your heat draws a heavy sigh from your mouth where it’s still connected with his.
He pulls back enough to watch your face as he does it again, on purpose this time. You whimper.
“Feel good, sweetheart?” His voice is noticeably lower than last time he spoke. With your eyebrows scrunching and your lips parted, you nod.
He brings his large hands down your body, groping your arse and using their new position to push you against his leg in time with its next thrust.
Remus adores the sounds you make in reaction, but not enough not to muffle them by harshly bringing your mouths back together. His lips press against yours; his tongue asks yours to dance as he continues rubbing you against himself.
You can feel how wet you’re getting at the pressure, feel the warmth and throbbing building between your legs.
Remus picks up his pace slightly, massaging your arse, devouring your moans all the while.
So far, he’s very much been leading, but when he whispers gruffly into your ear, “Ride me, baby; make yourself feel good for me,” and starts mouthing your neck as he holds you close, your hips instinctively obey.
You grind yourself back and forth on his thigh, the friction addictive, each warm rush urging you to do it again, harder. You bare your neck to him and hold yourself up on his shoulders for better leverage. You begin riding him in earnest, your breath panting and your bed creaking.
“Remus,” you hiss, as you grip him close and push yourself against him over and over. He nods and keeps kissing you ardently as he moves his leg to your rhythm.
“‘M gonna…” you whisper, your mouth falling agape, your eyes squeezing shut. He grips you tighter, moves faster. “Reeem,” you whimper his name.
Another electric second and you’re coming on top of him, the pleasure coming like huge waves crashing slowly and steadily on soft, wet sand.
The sounds escaping your open mouth are strangled and euphoric. You ride through another crest, and another, then you slow, still grinding but languidly now.
Your whole body trembles on top of his, and Remus chuckles, squeezes you, and kisses the top of your head repeatedly once you collapse on his chest.
You lie in bliss till your breathing evens out, but it’s startled again by the loud alarm ringing on your bedside.
“Shit.” You reach and turn it off without leaving your mount.
Remus sits up now, his arms still around your waist as you straddle him.
“Sorry we didn’t…” you start, palming the prominent bulge in his pants. He tsks and kisses you before you can finish your thought. Your arms come around his neck, and you hold him close and play with his hair as you kiss.
“Watching your face when you come is a high on its own,” he smiles. He gives you another quick peck then adds cheekily, “And there’s always later to look forward to.” Another kiss against your laughing lips before you both scramble out of the sheets toward a bright new day.
#remus lupin#remus x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin smut#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin oneshot#marauder x reader#marauders#marauders fanfic#kinktober2023
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Arcane characters as love stereotypes.
ft. vi, jinx, caitlyn, viktor, jayce, vander, silco, sevika, cassandra, ekko
WARNINGS: bad grammar, mentions of nsfw
CONTAINS: fluff
SONG: -
A/N: I put different song to each character.
Jinx - teenage love
She wants to be with you all the time. She is blindly in love. And she loves spending time with you. She likes to show you new weapons she made or what she draw. One day she asked you if she can draw you. Now the picture is over your bed.
She likes movie nights. She build pillow bunkers and she made popcorn. Which is little burnt. She often made little handmade gifts for you. Little surprises like picnic or favourite food/drinks. Being biggest cheerleader for each other.
You Stupid Bitch - girl in red
Sevika - rough love
Overprotective. Hickeys all over you. Teasing each other. When she's at bar and she sees you she always give you a small smile or smirk. After that she pull you into her lap. Passionate and dominant kisses. Seldom happens that you two can lay in bed and cuddle all day.
But when that day comes, you both are happier than ever. Most of you cuddle sessions becomes make out sessions. She likes when you lay on her chest or when you lay your head on her lap, so she can watch your cute face. She thinks you're a cutie, even though she seems tough she have her soft side. But that side is just for you.
I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE - Måneskin
Silco - enemies to lovers
God how much he hated you at the first time. You were a shimmer dealer which makes you very important. Silco though that he's gonna send Sevika to kill you but than he realized that would be wrong. He had two reasons why he didn't kill you. First - he don't know how to make that good shimmer as you ( Singed's shimmer was nothing compared to yours). Second he start catching feelings.
After a while he decided to get to know more about you. That was the best thing he did in his life. When you two started dating you become the most powerful couple in Zaun. No one dare to even look the same way as you. Because they know, Silco would kill them if they did.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys
Vi - soulmates
Protective as well. Know everything about each other. Workouts together. You two just meant to be. Hugs from behind while kissing your neck. Cuddles are very important in this relationship because Vi is touch starved. Having sex on public toilets.
She will tattoo your name on her arm. She will let you paint her nails. Also what she appreciates is that you care about her. You bandage her wounds, make her food, give her bed where she can sleep with you ofc, make her feel love. Her favourite part of the day is morning. She wakes up before you and just hold you close in her arms, kissing your face and admiring you.
All I Wanted - Paramore
Ekko - any universe love
Helping each other with everything. He would never let anything happened to you in any way. Jealous af. He hates when he sees older mens/womans who is trying to flirt with you. And he always gonna remind them that you are taken. Lots of PDA.
Watching horror or action movies together. Cooking together. His favourite activity with you is dancing around the kitchen. He loves when you braid his hair. Race on hoverboards. It's always 50/50. Both of you are very fast so it's always exciting who will win.
You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift
Caitlyn - best friend to lovers
You and Cait were childhood friends. And Caitlyn always had a big fat crush on you. You were pure perfection in her eyes. But she was shy and nervous if you feel the same way. She was always scared if you're into womans. But her feelings were that strong that she couldn't hold them anymore.
When you two started dating she couldn't believe it. She knows how lucky she is to have you, so she want to make you feel special. She spoils you a lot. Solving problems together. Always have each others back. Shower together. Supporting each other all the time. Doing skin care routine together. You make her smile every.single.day.
girls - girl in red
Viktor - ancient love
Taking care of him. Listening him mumbling about hextech. Help him with hextech. Even if you don't know much about it, your presence is enough for him. Common baths, which he loves the most. Rescue him that he is enough for you and that you don't want anyone else.
When you play with his hair he immediately relax. He believe you're a witch or something because you have magic touch. Bringing him lunch in his laboratory. Holding your hand 24/7. He loves when you kiss his forehead. He loves you so so much.
Like Real People Do - Hozier
Jayce - rich love
He makes you feel like a princess. Buys you everything that catches your eyes. Kissing your cheeks. Having sex at Grand Council Chamber (i'm sorry i forgot how they call it). He loves laying on your chest and he doesn't care if you have small or big tits. For him they're perfect. You are perfect for him.
Cinderella and prince Charming couple. Trying cook together. Give him massages to relax after tough day. Helping him with hextech as well. Reading him your favourite books.
Electric Love - BØRNS
Cassandra Kiramman - secret love
She knows that she is a married woman but she can't help herself. You are perfect and she wants to remind that to you every single day. When she's in public and she can't speak to you she inconspicuously give you little note. - I love you Y/N ♡ - Meet me at the toilets in 10♡ - You look beautiful today ♡ These kind of notes.
She always make sure that she have some time for you. She never cuddle in her time so when you come with that idea of cuddling she was little nervous. But when you snuggled into her neck and start giving her soft kisses on her neck. She melt under you. She is a dominant woman so she is a big spoon. But when she's angry on someone, kiss her forehead and play with her hair. It always calm her down.
Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery
Vander - old love
He writes you love letters. And he brings you flowers everyday. Helping him cleaning at bar and take care of his kids. He likes reading you books while he's playing with your hair. Loves to hold you on his chest. Dancing on old songs together with Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor. Cooking together.
He will protect you no matter what. Teaching you how to protect yourself if you don't know how. Kissing you forehead, hand and head. Bone breaking hugs. Lots of jokes and warm smiles. You are his trophy so he shows you off a lot. Silco is jealous that Vander have such a beautiful woman as you.
Young And Beautiful - Lana Del Rey
I hope you like it guys! ♡
#arcane#arcane x reader#arcane imagines#silco x reader#vander x reader#cassandra kiramman x fem!reader#jinx x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn x reader#ekko x reader#jayce x reader#viktor x reader#sevika x reader#love#x fem!reader#lesbian#bi#arcane jinx x reader#arcane vi x reader#arcane cassandra kiramman x reader#arcane caitlyn x reader#arcane silco x reader#arcane vander x reader#arcane jayce x reader#arcane viktor x reader#arcane ekko x reader#arcane sevika x reader
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⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET pt. 4
A/N: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!! kinda hate kinda love kinda deep not proofread lol
Summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo
Warnings: SMUTTT nsfw, swearing, i think that’s it lol
master list with other parts here !!
・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆
"Would you like it to be a one-time thing?"
"No."
That was all Matt needed to hear before he pulled me into a passionate kiss. I stumbled back slightly as he walked with me, pushing me up to sit on a desk. The kiss was intense, filled with desire
and urgency. He proved to be a skilled kisser, and I couldn't help but respond in kind. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer as his lips trailed down my neck with a sense of need. The intensity of the moment heightened, and I could feel his arousal pressing against my stomach as his hands pulled me impossibly closer to him.
I threw my head back in bliss, hands propped up behind me to keep me steady. The rush of emotions and sensations overwhelmed me as our connection deepened in that stolen moment.
Our moment is interrupted by the sound of another school bell. Matt sighs, frustration evident as he drops his head against my shoulder. He then stands upright, heading to his desk. "I've got another class in 5 minutes," he says, taking a seat. I rise from my desk, approaching him. I adjust his collar and run my fingers through his hair. "What, we can't have a quickie in 5?" I smile, giggling. "Too risky," he mumbles, placing his hands on my waist.
My hands move down from his hair to his jaw. "Can I come over for a study session tonight?" I ask quietly. He nods with a small "mhm" before I lean down, pecking his lips. I pull away before leaving the room, smiling at him as I walk out the door, which he reciprocates. As I walk out of the building, I can't stop smiling to myself. I feel like a cheesy teenage girl, but I can't help it.
When I'm with Matt, I sense a truer version of myself. In solitude, there's a constant feeling of emptiness and boredom, but Matt brings back the excitement. I realize how absurd it may seem; he's my teacher, and we've only known each other for a short time, but I can't deny it – he genuinely brings joy into my life.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
I find myself standing outside Matt's door once more, unable to suppress the silly grin on my face. The thought of seeing him sends a jolt of excitement through me. I give a gentle knock, and he promptly opens the door, leaning against it with his inked biceps flexing, his eyes taking in every inch of my body. “Come in”.
As we settle into the evening, our conversation flows effortlessly between the pages of textbooks and the contours of our lives. There's an undeniable connection, an intellectual intimacy that transcends the confines of a typical student-teacher relationship. I find myself drawn not only to the subject matter but also to the person guiding me through it.
The more we talk, the more apparent it becomes that our connection goes beyond the academic realm. We share personal anecdotes, dreams, and fears, blurring the lines between mentorship and friendship. The air is charged with unspoken tension, an acknowledgment of the growing bond between us.
"Do you understand that the Marxist and New Right perspectives align on this point?" he queries, peering down at me as we return to our tasks. "Mhm," I respond quietly, meeting his gaze with a glance into his blue eyes. He returns the look, his gaze shooting daggers. His hand gently moves my hair from my face, and then he plants a swift kiss on my forehead. "So pretty," he murmurs against my skin, a smile playing on my lips.
I push him back against his chair and straddle him, our legs entwined. He reaches up to grab my hips, his face expressionless. I lean in to kiss his neck, my hands moving down his body. As we continue to kiss, I feel him growing harder against me, his hips pushing back into mine as his hands guide my hips in rhythm. He leans back in his chair, his hands moving up to hold me tighter. "You're driving me crazy," he whispers, biting my lower lip before deepening the kiss once more. Lifting me up into his arms, he carries me towards his bedroom, our bodies pressed together through our clothes.
Matt throws me down on the bed and pushes me onto my back. "Take off your clothes for me, baby," he says, his voice low and husky. I hold eye contact as I peel off my shirt and kick off my jeans, feeling his eyes on me. He bites his lip, groaning as he watches me slowly strip for him. Stepping out of his pants, he climbs onto the bed with me, his hard length pressing against my stomach again. "You're so fucking sexy," he says, his face a mix of awe and desire.
He kisses me before moving down my body, past my sternum, down my belly, and reaching my panties. He kisses my clit through my panties, causing me to arch my back and moan his name, with his eyes fixed on mine the entire time. He sits up and removes his shirt, discarding it before returning his attention to me. He pulls my panties aside, his cold fingers brushing against my skin and sending chills down my body. He supports himself with one arm next to my head whilst his chain dangles over my face, focusing on rubbing his tip up and down my folds with the other, slapping it against my clit, and eliciting a whine from me.
He pushes in slowly, a heavenly groan escaping his lips, which I could have cum from the sound alone. He kisses my neck again as he begins to move in and out of me, the sound of skin slapping and our moans filling the room. His hand moves to my belly, feeling himself thrust in and out. I reach my hand to his bicep as his trails up, grasping my throat and applying pressure. "Fuck, Y/N, feel so good around me," He mumbles. I gasp as he suddenly grabs my ankle, propping my leg over his shoulder, and hitting a deeper angle.
"Fuck Matt," I whine, screwing my eyes shut. "Look at me," he orders, his thumb now moving to my clit and moving in tight circles. I open my eyes and see him looking down at me, a smirk on his lips. I feel the knot in my stomach growing tighter, "Fuck Matt, I'm gonna cum, please," I beg. "Cum for me, angel," he coos, as I release around him, a strings of curses and his name leaving my lips. His thrusts slow down as he releases inside me, groaning. He mumbles, "Fuck," dropping his head for a second. He pulls out and roll over, lying down next to me.
"Wow," I sigh, attempting to catch my breath. "Wow," he mimics me, prompting a laugh to escape me. I turn my head to look at him, scooting closer, and rest my head on his chest, my leg draped over his body. His hand underneath me rises to rub his thumb up and down my shoulder soothingly.
"We should go out sometime, you know, like a date?" I chime, looking up at him. His eyes flicker to me before returning to a fixed stare ahead. He licks his lips before speaking up, "I don’t think that’s a good idea." I sit up slightly, my brows knitted together. "Why not? Is there something wrong with me?"I half kid. He just looks straight ahead and shrugs. I scoff, getting up, and reach for my jeans, putting them back on. "I can’t believe you, Matt."
His head whips to look at me. "We're not a couple, Y/N. You're my student; we can't be going out on dates," he replies. "Oh? So it's fine to fuck your 'students,' but God forbid you grab some food together. Sorry if I got the wrong message," I bitterly retort, grabbing my shirt. "You're so immature. Do you realize I could lose my job? I could get in serious trouble, even charged for this, Y/N," he says, now sitting up. I roll my eyes and slip my shoes on. "Go fuck yourself," I mumble before storming out of the room and walking towards his front door.
As I reach his front door, I freeze for a second. I turn around; no one. I don't know why I was expecting him to chase after me. Was I really just a quick fling? I should have seen it from what happened at the club. I'm so sick of feeling like this, like I'm not good enough. Was there something wrong with me? Was he embarrassed? Of course, he was, Y/N, shit. I turn back to the door, blinking as tears roll down my cheek. I open it, step out, and slam the door behind me. Fuck this.
Matt pov 😮
I hear my front door slam, and I groan. I feel terrible. I had to make her hate me; she can't get attached. I don't want her to deal with the repercussions of all this if we get caught, which will probably happen sooner or later. I don't want to hurt her—hypocritical, I know, but I'm doing what's best for her. I'm protecting her. She could lose everything, the chance of a real future, and I don't want that. She's smart. She deserves so much better than that and so much better than me. In my eyes, she was so beautiful, too perfect for me.
As I sit there, feeling guilty and helpless, I can't help but think about the future and the consequences of our actions. I know that we need to be careful, but I also know that we can't keep running forever. Eventually, we will get caught, and the truth will come out. I just hope that when that happens, we will be prepared for the consequences and that we will still be together, despite the challenges we face.
I can't help but wonder if there is a way to avoid this, if there is a solution that will allow us to be together without facing the repercussions of our actions. I know that it's a risky thought, but I can't help but entertain the possibility of a future where we might find a way to evade capture and live happily ever after. For now, though, I will continue to protect her, to keep her safe, and to hope that we can find a way to overcome the obstacles that stand in our way.
Get yourself together, Matt. I grab my phone and sit on our chat for a moment. I can't text her; I can't encourage this. It was evil. I groan, throwing my head back. Fuck.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
I've just finished marking all my essays, just in time for my next class, y/n's class. Of course, she got an A; she was so smart. I hated myself for it, but I knew I had to lower her grade just so I could tutor her more - it was so fucking selfish, but I can't help myself. Giving her a B- felt so shitty, but I needed to.
Eventually, my class arrives, and it's time to start this lesson. But y/n isn't in. Of course, she fucking isn't in, Matt. You fucked her, then made her feel like shit after.
I get up and make my way over to all my students, just checking up on them, then making my way to Madi. I knew they were close. I lean down, lowering my voice as I speak to Madi, who looks up at me. "Do you know where y/n is today?" I ask, trying to keep my cool. She just shrugs, "I haven't heard anything from her." Fuck. I mouth a small thank you before returning to my desk. I pull out my phone and send a quick text message.
To y/n
Can we talk, please?
I'm sorry.
・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆
tag list !!
@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer
@daddyslilchickenfingers
@mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @sturnphilia @s1urnioloslvr
@mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332
@recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333
@flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess
@poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo
@m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444
@thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld
#Spotify#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#imagine#angst#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#fluff#smut
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The Relationship Between Glenn and Rufus
[Ultimania Screenshot Removed Until Square Enix Lifts Copyright Strikes]
Glenn, a messenger from Wutai, appears often before Rufus. Though their conversations suggest that the two were old acquaintances, the exact nature of their relationship remains a mystery. Here is a summary of their meaningful exchanges and the relationship between them and Wutai as depicted in related works.
In the small box, it has some information on Rufus and Team Glenn’s connections to Wutai.
In "FVII Before Crisis", four years ago, Rufus lent a hand to the Wutai-based Avalanche.
Glenn comes into contact with Sephiroth, who was dispatched to Wutai seven years ago, in the opening of "The First Soldier" arc of "FFVII Ever Crisis".
Matt and Lucia, who were Glenn's colleagues (introduced by Yuffie in CHAPTER 7 as the "three ex-soldiers"), appear as captains in flashback scenes of the original Avalanche soldiers.
A small text wall next to Glenn’s death scene says:
When Rufus heard Glenn's name in Junon, a vision of him shooting a man flashes through his mind.
Text wall beside the “Please contact Captain Matt” dialogue says:
It appears that Matt and Lucia were participating in the operation to attack the Shinra Building.
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Examples of Important Conversations Between Glenn and Rufus
[Ultimania Screenshot Removed Until Square Enix Lifts Copyright Strikes]
Rufus: "You're alive?"
Glenn: "Most certainly dead.”
(This was a bit of dialogue in the game that was difficult to translate. If anyone has a correction for it, please let me know. It appears that Glenn says he is “Dead, of course” to Rufus’ statement).
Rufus is surprised at Glenn's survival, and Glenn responds with a laugh. It sounds like a joking response, but based on his later words and actions, it may not be a joke at all.
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Rufus: "The Governor will not stand on such a poor set.”
Glenn: "I see! Growing up a young master/rich kid is so bothersome.”
Rufus said these words as if he knew Sufur’s personality well. Glenn calls Sufur a rich kid/brat, but in Junon, he also mocked Rufus, saying, “Fond of (drawing) visions as ever, young master/rich kid).”
(I once again have been trying to receive help on this specific line because the connection here is how Glenn calls both Sufur and Rufus “Botchan,” which is an interesting term for a rich young master or boy. More in this in another post).
Glenn & Sephiroth: "Our 'Promised Land' will be born." Good (for you), you’ve succeeded your father.”
In the commentary scene, Sephiroth's appearance and voice overlap with Glenn, implying that Glenn's actions up to that point were in line with Sephiroth's intentions.”
Glenn: “As good at shooting people in the back as ever.”
A line that suggests that Rufus once shot Glenn in the back. It is also revealed in this scene that the person who had been thought to be Glenn was one of those in the black cloaks.
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My translations are rough at the moment because I am hurrying, but I trust that I was able to get the essential parts accurate.
This is not much new information but I would say it confirms some things.
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1. Glenn is dead.
2. It was a black cloak in line with Sephiroth’s intentions. Based on the other instances where black cloaks interact with Cloud with Sephiroth’s intentions, it is safe to say that this was also Sephiroth. A part of his will perhaps.
3. There is nothing suggesting that this was Jenova, as some were saying.
4. Sephiroth heavily mocks Rufus at every chance he gets and appears to hate him passionately.
5. Glenn came in contact with Sephiroth 7 years after Sephiroth was dispatched to Wutai. This is the opening of the First Soldier.
6. Rufus and the Before Crisis plot of his involvement with Avalanche has been confirmed.
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#now to keep working on an analysis post with the rest of “glenn’s” dialogue#glenn lodbrok#team glenn#rufus shinra#sephiroth#wutai#ffvii rebirth#fvii first soldier#ffvii#final fantasy 7#ff7#the first soldier#fvii rebirth spoilers#rebirth spoilers
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soulmates unfortunately series [the prologue]
⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆
genre: romance/fluff with adult themes
pairings: reader x park gunwook, reader x kim taerae, reader x seok matthew, reader x shen ricky.
word count: 3.2k
warnings: drinking, character death, nsfw mention (no actual smut), underage puppy love, and other adult themes. rating is 16+.
ABOUT. here's the thing about soulmates, once you meet the one that is meant for you, you start to age. the biological clock starts to tick, and you are no longer a fresh faced 20 year old. years go by, and next thing you know it, you've grown old and wrinkly – right next to the love of your life. y/n hated this concept.
y/n has had many soulmates in her lifetime. chapter zero explores the soulmates that came before she stopped believing in the concept entirely.
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You used to believe in the concept of soulmates.
It could be a beautiful thing, really. In theory, you build your entire future with this person, remaining young until you meet the one that is meant for you. In this world, your biological clock remains frozen – physical and mental aging included.
Life doesn’t start unless you have your other half along with you. Your soulmate.
Growing up, you hear and experience multiple love stories around you. You are taught to look forward to this life changing moment, watching out for the tell-tale signs of your other half. Your chest tightens around them, pulling you closer, drawing you in. Others say it’s as if the universe is physically trying to draw you closer together. But you liken it more to a ‘gut feeling’; There’s no other way to describe it, you just know.
That’s how you felt about Park Gunwook – the first boy you ever came to love. The first soulmate.
PARK GUNWOOK. TWELVE YEARS OLD. YEAR 1920.
Gunwook lived in the same farm town as you, and everyone knew him.
He was the favorite son in his family. He wasn’t the eldest – but he was reliable even from a very young age. He ran errands for the neighbors often and was kind to all the children and elderly. If anyone needed some help with carrying hay bale, starting a fire, or cleaning out the barn, Park Gunwook was the go-to, in which he happily carried out his duties with a large smile on his face.
You first met on a sunny day when you had trouble with your farmwork chores. You were struggling to wrangle the pigs back to their pen, tripping over the mud, and eventually falling into a large puddle.
He must have been watching over from a far, as the next thing you know an, arm is outstretched to you. “Need some help, Y/N?”
You look up to see Gunwook, and you take his hand so he can hoist you up from the mud puddle.
“You know my name?” you ask innocently. Gunwook was fifteen at the time, and you, only twelve.
“Silly girl, of course I know you.” he says as he fixes the bangs on your forehead, temporarily disheveled by the fall. At that moment, you felt it. The undeniable tug at your chest, drawing you to him. You had a feeling he was your soulmate, and your cheeks warmed at the thought.
You reckon he felt the same. For as the years went by, he stayed as a close friend to you.
When you reached fifteen years old, marrying age, he started to see you more often.
He would ask you to join him as he saddled up the horses by the stable, and you’d ask him to accompany you as you picked flowers by the meadow. You often talked about your dreams of seeing the world, leaving this small town and meeting new people. You dreamt of seeing all sorts of buildings, appreciating all kinds of art, trying new food, and experiencing new music. He always listened to you in awe, smiling at how passionate you become when talking about your dreams. He knows it’s your favorite thing to talk about.
Gunwook on the other hand, spoke about inheriting the farm land from his father. He excitedly spoke about starting a little bed and breakfast inn where he could increase tourism in the area, allowing other folk to come experience the beauty of farm life. He once showed you the blueprint sketches he had of his proposed business venture, and with a gummy smile on his face, pointed to a house right by the meadow where your favorite flowers resided, “and here’s where we would live” he said. his cheeks were flushed red, nervous to see your reaction.
It was beautiful. He had promised to build it for you, confirming that he too, felt the same about you. That the both of you were meant to be together.
“I know you’ve always wanted to get out of here. So I’ll save up for it, and we can both go on a large adventure someday” he reassures you.
But you pictured the little farmhouse by the meadow where the two of you would live, running the bed and breakfast, and caring for the horses, pigs, and sheep. You suddenly didn’t mind having this quaint little life at all.
“It’s perfect, Gunwook. I love it.” You reassured him too.
Sadly, these were the last words you shared with him. The wedding never happened, the house was never built, and you were unable to experience being loved by Gunwook like you were meant to.
Gunwook died the next morning, at the age of 18 years old. He was helping out the local lumberjack with a project in the forest, and fell victim to a horrible accident. The townspeople and your family spared you of the gory details, so you never got the full story of how he passed away.
All you remember from that day was waking up and immediately feeling an emptiness in your heart. The tug at your chest was gone, a confirmation that he was dead. You cried.
You wondered if the universe was giving you a sign, an out from the farm town life that you dreamed of leaving. And you couldn’t help but think: what a sick, twisted, way to communicate, universe.
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You tried to continue living life as you once knew it. But everything in this small town reminded you of Gunwook. You’d often visit the meadow where your forever house with him was meant to stand, journalling or speaking to the wind – hoping Gunwook would hear you.
Your family let you grieve for two whole years, allowing the pain to fully wash over you so that you can learn to move on. Gunwook was your soulmate, everyone knew that. And at that time, the concept of having more than one soulmate was unheard of. You had already lost yours, and there was no way the universe would have another one for you.
You weren’t exactly a widow, so you would have to live life as an unmarried woman – which was difficult in that day and age. This is why your father and mother brought up the prospect of arranged marriage, even if it’s just for the sake of living comfortably. You agreed.
KIM TAERAE. SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. YEAR 1925.
You came to know Kim Taerae at seventeen years old, when your father was sorting out marriage candidates. He had visited a local psychic who had given a shortlist of all the eligible bachelors in the area who would be the perfect match for you – insisting that ‘your soulmate would be one of the names on the list’.
You would have called her a quack if the list didn’t include a certain Kim Taerae, a young gentleman three years older, who had a voice of an angel. You officially met at a chaperoned luncheon, with both your parents and his. He was soft, kind hearted, and had a gentle nature to him.
You met several times after that before your families settled the marriage agreements. You didn’t mind marrying Taerae, in fact, you were scared to admit that he might actually be your soulmate too after all. You felt it during your first few meetings without your parents, the familiar pull at your chest. Eventually soothed by his singing and soft hums he would whisper into your hair.
“Do you think we could be soulmates, Y/N?” he asked you one evening, you were both sitting on the porch of your family home with the stars as your audience. While he strongly believed you were his soulmate, you had a hard time. You weren’t sure if the universe allowed such a thing.
“I don’t know, Taerae. I wonder if the universe is kind enough to gift you as my soulmate” you truly meant your words. He knew about your trauma with losing Gunwook, and would often accompany you as you visited his grave. He’s been patient with you, and was content with spending the rest of his life loving you, even if you weren’t soulmates. You felt the same way.
That year, Taerae turned 21 years old. He was a year older, no longer frozen at 20. Likewise, you turned 18 years old. He got his blood tested to ensure the aging wasn’t a placebo effect, that there was indeed biological change.
Everyone celebrated Taerae’s aging, the confirmation that the both of you were truly soulmates. You couldn’t believe it at first, but considered it as the universe’s way of saying ‘sorry’ for the loss of your first one.
Taerae was excited to build a future with you. He even bought a house for the two of you at the capital of the country, and you were both eager to experience city life as a married couple. But that day never came. He died from a tragic car accident, a drunk driver crashed into his vehicle when he was on his way to see you.
You woke up that day feeling like you were stuck in a recurring nighmare. You were drenched in sweat, and let out the most gut-wrenching scream of grief. You despised how this was all too familiar to you, the loss of the comforting tug at your chest. Taerae was dead, and you wailed for him.
The car company gave you a free vehicle as part of the grievance. As if a free car would cure the immense grief and anger you had been feeling. To make matters worse, the community mocked you with a new nickname: soulmate killer. Because the mere idea of being your soulmate was an automatic death sentence.
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You hated the universe. You were angry at its seeming generosity, rather cruelty of losing two soulmates at only 18 years old.
After Taerae died, your family felt anguish for you. They had immense sympathy, and let you do whatever you wanted to do. You spent another two years grieving Taerae. Though you mostly stayed at home, staring into empty space. You still visited the meadow, this time with a guitar in hand to strum familiar melodies as you thought about the two men you loved. You felt that it was only fair to Taerae that way – if you had grieved him the same way you grieved Gunwook.
It took you years before you could even feel like yourself again.
In 1930, you would have been 23 years old. But you still look, act, and feel like a 20 year old. As if the universe was mocking your unfortunate situation. As if aging was a reward and a privilege you receive after meeting the love of your life. As if the universe was blissfully unaware that you have been ripped away from the opportunity thanks to its cruelty.
You revisited your journal entries from when you were fifteen, talking about your big dream of seeing the world. You felt cursed, and you were determined to make the most of the seemingly short life you would have. After all, if your soulmates kept dying on you – who is to say that you aren’t next?
So you took your free car, and set off on a road trip. And that’s when you met Seok Matthew, a man who sadly, understood you a little too well.
SEOK MATTHEW. TWENTY YEARS OLD. 1930.
Matthew’s soulmate also died in a car accident earlier that year. His chosen method of grieving was to travel the world – discovering new places and meeting all sorts of people. That’s how the two of you met, line dancing somewhere in the south america.
Matthew wasn’t your soulmate, you knew that for sure. But you spent the next five years traveling the world together, making love in cities he took you, and living life as reckless twenty somethings. With him, you were finally able to live out your dream.
As you lay naked in the arms of Matthew in a hotel somewhere in Paris, he asked you “what if one day, one of us meets our soulmate?”. You adjust yourself to see him more clearly, fingers softly running through his hair. The thought has crossed your mind before, more for Matthew’s sake than your own.
“It’s been five years Matt, I highly doubt I’m going to meet anyone else. But you might.” you try to foster a small smile, reassuring him he could still have a chance. Matthew has only lost one soulmate, while you’ve lost two.
“No, I’d never leave you.” He sits up, a large pout on his face. His stubbornness amuses you.
“That’s what you say now, sweetie.” you laugh as you kiss his pout away. "and you know it's probably for the best, people in my hometown call me soulmate killer, you know?" you try to play it off as a joke.
"soulmate killer? that's cruel. it's not your fault y/n. you know that right?" Matthew's brows are furrowed. You smile as you hold his face, releasing the tension in his forehead by massaging his eyebrows with your thumbs.
That night, he promised to stay in your life no matter what.
But this promise turned hazy when on one of your trips to South Asia, he met the actual love of his life. You didn’t protest when he came back to your dingy hotel, head down and in tears. You didn’t argue as you watched him pack his bags, for a trip that you weren’t going to be part of. And you didn’t push him away when he asked to kiss you one last time before he left. You let him go, and you sobbed out of loneliness.
Kudos to Matthew, he did keep his promise. He sent letters every few months to your PO Box, but you didn’t have the heart to open all of it. Last you’ve heard, they had baby number one on the way – and that was your last straw. You changed PO Box addresses shortly after that, unbeknownst to Matthew, who still sent you letters every year until his eventual death.
This was the first man in your life to have a happy ending. He died of old age, with 3 children and 10 grandchildren.
Something changed in the five years you spent with Matthew. More than falling in love with a person who wasn’t your soulmate, you fell in love with the world. You could never, ever imagine yourself going back to the domesticated life at home. The years after Matthew turned you into a cynic, and you didn’t believe in love anymore either.
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PRESENT DAY. 2023.
“Got anything that’ll get me drunk in the next ten minutes?”
You plopped down on the bar stool, haphazardly placing your purse next to you. The bartender is eyeing you strangely, as if in disbelief that you’re even inside their establishment.
You sigh and pull out your identification card, a laminated piece of junk that tells you how old you really are. Scratch that, how old you are meant to be. He picks up the card and raises it up next to your face, comparing the woman in the picture to your face. It reminds you that you need to get it renewed…again. After all, the last time you updated your photo was sometime in the 80s. True enough, your ID card reflects a version of you with big hair and large colorful earrings. You don’t blame him for wanting to double check, contrasting the all black ensemble you have currently.
“Listen pal, I just buried my daughter today. I would appreciate it if you could get on with it”. You might not blame him, but you are impatient.
He slides your ID card back and pours you a whiskey on the rocks. “Sorry for your loss ma’am” he solemnly extends his condolences as he places your drink in front of you. You pick it up, raising it and nodding a “thank you” before taking a large gulp. It burns.
You outlived your daughter. And you wonder if you’ve been going about life in all the wrong ways. Atop the alcohol display at the bar is a small TV, flashing a report about a young woman named Somi who was murdered and found dead at her home – leaving her husband a widower. The news station flashed a photo of the blonde couple, sharing that they had just gotten married a week ago. She was beautiful. A shame.
As the news report slowly drowns you, your mind confronts you with the memories of your past soulmates and lovers.
PARK GUNWOOK. The soulmate you never got the chance to fully love, and died in the year 1923.
KIM TAERAE. The soulmate who was your second chance at life, and passed away in 1928.
SEOK MATTHEW. Who helped you live out your dreams from 1930 to 1935.
KIM JIWOONG. A man you married in the year 1940, who died from alcohol poisioning that same year.
ZHANG HAO. The one who gave you your daughter in 1952, but unfortunately fell victim to a house fire.
SUNG HANBIN. The husband that raised your daughter like his very own. But experienced a very fatal heart attack on the day of your daughter’s wedding in 1973.
Of course, there were others – flings and boytoys along the way. None of which were worth reminiscing about, except maybe for Kim Gyuvin.
At that moment, a tall man enters the bar and decides to take a seat next to you. His presence effectively drew you out from the thoughts circling your brain. Other than the fact that he too, is dressed in all black – you feel a deeper sense of similarity. Like kindred spirits, you recognize broken souls like yours. You order two more rounds of the whiskey the bartender gave you.
“I heard about your late wife in the news, I’m sorry for your loss.” You feign sympathy and slide the glass to the man next to you.
He looks taken aback at first, but accepts your offer. Now facing you, he raises his drink to you. You do the same. He’s strikingly handsome, with platinum hair and dark eyebrows. You also don’t miss that he’s dressed in Yves Saint Laurent from head to toe. He takes a peek at your ID card still laying on the table, making sure to catch your name.
“Next one’s on me, Y/N” he says, taking another swig at his whiskey, finishing his glass. He calls on the bartender, and buys an entire bottle for the two of you. The bartender returns his credit card, with the name ‘Shen Quanrui’ engraved.
“Thank you Quanrui, that’s very generous of you.”
He puts on a small smile, almost no one calls him by his legal name. “You can call me Ricky” he says as he pours into your glass.
“Alright Ricky. Here’s to life.” you raise up. It feels inappropriate to be clinking glasses on the day you buried your daughter, but you figured you could make an exemption. Ricky too, seemed to be going through the same thing with his late wife.
“To life.” he responds, tapping his glass against yours.
Just two broken souls who had lost someone important in their lives, drinking to fill the hollowness. You almost don’t feel the familiar bloom in your chest, tugging at your entire being like a magnet trying to find its other half. And if you do feel it, you pretend it’s the whiskey burning its place in your heart.
RICKY SHEN. TWENTY YEARS OLD. 2023. The man who you assume to be your next soulmate.
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"...blessed with the gift."
Honestly this pisses me off. I was not magically born possessing the ability to make what I make. I've been making plush for over a decade, constantly learning, pushing myself, working my ass off to make them better and better. Every single one I make is still a challenge. I'm not "drowning" in plushies because they're freaking hard to make and take forever to put together, not to mention their materials are expensive.
Every artist I know has worked super hard to get to where they are. Don't discredit their blood sweat and tears by saying their hard work was just magically bestowed upon them as a "gift."
One of my first plush, next to my latest (2022). Before even making that dragon I'd already been drawing and making 3D art for years, plus did a lot of plush research.
Another reason I hate this mentality is because it discourages people from trying art themselves. "Oh I'm not talented like you." BS. While it's true some people might have personalities more suited to tedious work, or better hand-eye coordination (that can be improved too btw) or whatever, it's a myth that you have to have talent to succeed at any task. You just have to work for it. Everyone does, even the very best artists.
We're all born knowing nothing. Just because my chosen passion is art doesn't mean the ability to make it was handed to me. You can also cultivate passion and pursue the skills you'd like to have, but you have to be willing to start at ground zero and build up.
Anyway. Go pursue your passions, and recognize the hard work behind other people's "talent." And bless every one of y'all who notes that you've been inspired by my art, may you go and kick ass in your endeavors.
First 3D plush (dolphin) with a recent fox (2022).
#artist rants#I usually ignore 'talent' because most people use it to mean 'skill' but this one in particular was dismissive of all the work it takes#skill not talent#art is work
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Paldean Elite Four (+ Geeta) Headcanons
They've been on my mind recently bc of all the asks I got
Rika:
Rika is the office gossip QUEEN. She knows everything about everyone, so if you need or want to know something you ask her. She knows a guy. She also desperately wants to figure out what Larry and Geeta's Deal (tm) is. They bicker constantly, are insanely passive aggressive, but despite their opposing attitudes agree on most fundamental issues. They look like they hate each other, but Larry constantly takes on new responsibilities for the League and Geeta constantly showers him with raises and promotions. Rika has taken to snooping thru their emails and prodding Hassel for info, but he doesn't know anything either. It’s driving her nuts
Paldea had a Region’s Sexiest Man contest. Rika won. Women Want her. Despite this however she can only pick up women accidentally. If she actively tries to flirt she will fuck it up spectacularly. Just the in-universe version of this
Rika is actually on the payroll as the league receptionist and does that Elite Four thing as a side hustle for extra cash. She gets kind of embarrassed when you call her a receptionist during her Elite Four duties though because other regions often use her as an example of why the Paldean league is garbage (i.e. they're so understaffed even a receptionist can be on the E4. They must have grabbed the nearest person, etc etc). She puts on the vibe of someone chill but this in particular is a bit of a sore point for her
She hates dresses / skirts with a burning passion and refuses to wear them. If you give her a REALLY good reason it's a solid maybe, but good luck with that. She needs to stretch
Her Clodsire's name is Pancake :) I like to think all her pokemon are named after breakfast foods (which, btw, is her favorite meal of the day. She is easily bribed with good waffles)
She and Larry are drinking buddies. She does most of the drinking
Poppy:
Everyone in the league is very careful to alter their habits around Poppy. She’s small and cute and sweet and a little baby so the usual informal cursing (like Rika shouting that HR needs to “cut the bullshit”) or the smoke breaks on the roof (yes I think they all smoke) can’t happen when Poppy is around
The league spoils her rotten. Candy? Toys? Help with her kindergarten homework?? Anything for Poppy. Even Larry, who seems too strict or apathetic to care, has her drawings in his desk drawer and lets her decorate his ties. The toys in the lobby are also hers
Her parents are accountants who brought her to take your kid to work day and let her play with their Pokémon outside. Rika challenged her to a match as a joke because they had a cancellation and Geeta watched— but both were shocked that Poppy’s skill with her parents’ steel types and her own Tinkaton were unparalleled by anyone in the building. When another E4 member retired, the league decided to let Poppy battle under her parents’ names just to blow off some steam. Poppy gets to let out energy, her parents make extra money, and the elite 4 has a strong battler. Win win!
Poppy loves to braid and play with hair, so the other elite four members will often let her play with their hair and add clips while they work. Larry is Poppy’s favorite because he sits Very Very Still
If Poppy really likes the battle she had with you, she’ll give you a sticker. Geeta once walked into a meeting with a gold star directly on her forehead because Poppy stuck it there and she didn’t want to take it off where Poppy could see it, forgetting about it by the time she walked in. She later moved it to her jacket
She has nicknames for everyone except Rika, which drives Rika insane. Grandpa Hassel, Mister Larry, Miss Geeta (or Auntie sometimes) but Rika? It’s just Rika. It’s always Rika. When Hassel was babysitting her at his and Brassius’ home in Artazón, Poppy’s eyes went really wide and she asked if she had two grandpas now or if Brassius was just SUPER old. He found that insanely funny
Larry:
I saw a fic that had Larry naming his pokemon after Excel commands and I cannot stop thinking about it. It's canon in my heart. Btw if anyone knows this fic / the name pls lmk I can’t find it again but I remember his Flamigo was named COUNTIF
Larry is actually pretty wealthy, partially because he's raking in cash from his three jobs and partially because he doesn't spend money on anything but food and pokemon products. Considering that the Treasure Eatery feeds him for free and the pokemon products are provided or subsidized by the League, that leaves him with a LOT of extra income, which he uses to help out his friends or gym challengers with financial issues or simply buying them dinner
Someone added this on another post of mine but every single one of Larry’s passwords is some variation on “password”. He’s many things but creative is none of them. Also these tags are canon to me
In contrast to his outward grumpiness and seeming apathy, Larry is incredibly gentle with and good with kids. He is confident the future will be better because of them, and does what he can to encourage them. It's a big part of the reason Geeta picked him for the positions-- they have a pretty similar philosophy regarding children and the future
Geeta has been doing everything in her power to get him to quit his third job (which is not League-affiliated) because he does the best work of anyone around and his other boss is a complete and utter asshole. She's tried promoting him, telling him how valuable he is to the team, using raises, praise, and passive aggression, but nothing is working. At one point she even tried overloading him with hours so he'd be forced to quit something but that didn't work either. She's stumped. The man won't quit
That third job? I'm not actually sure what it is but I do have an AU where he's a hitman. Call that a business casuality ;)
Hassel:
He always keeps candy in his desk (and his coat pockets) because he's a teacher and wants to be prepared. It's the strawberry kind, yall know the ones. This came in handy when Poppy joined the league, so all the other members started doing it too
His family gets traditional tattoos all over, which Hassel likewise has. He'd never remove them, but still keeps them covered most of the time for modesty reasons. Brassius has filled in the gaps in the traditional dragon shapes with various flowers to show how Hassel has grown from but not forgotten his past. They look very cool and Rika is insanely jealous of that
This old man is way more fit than he appears. He's a sensitive sweetheart and prefers the arts to sports or battling, but he's still a dragon tamer and keeps up his workout regime quite meticulously. Peepaw’s fucking shredded
His favorite art medium is paint, and he loves it when the little kids have class so he can finger paint alongside them. His office in the League building is covered in art. Geeta thinks it's sweet how he remembers every piece and how emotional he gets talking about it
Hassel has a hard time turning off teacher mode, which makes his training sessions at the league insanely funny to watch. “Haxorus, we do not Guillotine our friends!”
He can, and frequently does, play classical Paldea guitar. Once his rock career fell flat, he started experimenting with the style of his new home region and fell in love. You can often find him giving impromptu concerts from his balcony in Artazon
Geeta:
As much as she micromanages others, she's more than willing to take any responsibilities herself if she can't find someone else to do them. Plumber cancelled and they need the sink fixed asap? Get her a hammer. Rika is out sick? She'll cover those emails. Part of the reason the league struggles to complain about her is that they know for all the work they're doing, she's doing double. This doesn’t necessarily mean she’s GOOD at it but she’s doing it
I’m not sure how I want to explain it backstory wise but a lot of her skin is crystalline just like the AI professors. She’s got a LOT of connections to Area Zero and her top priority is making sure nothing goes in and nothing gets out. The professor hates her. The feeling is mutual
No one has ever seen her blink
She’s incredible at traditional Paldean dances. When Hassel plays classical guitar, she’ll dance along, and it’s magical to watch
That whole thing about not being able to hold back during battles? It’s a PR thing to make kids feel better. She’s not very good at battling. Geeta is just like (gestures at her Avalugg) I just think they're neat
A huge point of contention between her and her employees is that she takes everything literally and is terrible at reading tone. Her gym leaders are scared of her and try to drop hints about things because they think they’ll be punished if they’re too forward, but all those hints go right over Geeta’s head. The gym leaders then think Geeta is ignoring them on purpose but she’s none the wiser. Everyone is losing.
#rika#poppy#larry#hassel#geeta#pokemon sv#mod vex#headcanons#I put this under a readmore but mobile is being weird I hope it sticks
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Your Crow Shifter classmate has a habit of taking your shiny stuff!
redactedsona but it's literally just me in a cute outfit :3 i made myself do shading in this one to practice and i actually don't hate it all that much
[taglist: @oceanicwhitetipshark @febreze-bottle-without-febreze @teaseat @swanconcerto @beemybella @soup-scope @shawslut @celestecreateschaos (let me know if you want be added or removed <3)]
ID in alt-text and below cut!
[ID
Image One: A page of digital drawings that relate to each other.
On the left: A light skinned black woman of average build drawn from the knees up. She is wearing a tight fitted, light purple top with long sleeves and and a square neckline, black shorts and white thigh high socks. Her brown hair, the underside of which is dyed blonde, falls in loose curls just past her shoulders and is partly held back by a white headband with white lace details. Those same lace details can be found at the ends of her sleeves, around her neckline and peeking out of her socks. She is wearing a necklace with a silver star pendant and the button of her shorts is a silver crescent moon. Her face is covered in acne on her chin, forehead and cheeks. Her body is turned to the left while her face is turned to the right. Her left hand is raised to cover her open mouthed smile and she is winking.
Top right: A thumbnail design for a Youtube video. The background is completely black. On the left is a white silhouette of a crow with a four pointed star behind it. Above it and to its right there is text that reads, "YOUR CROW SHIFTER CLASSMATES ADMITS TO STEALING YOUR WATCH • F4A" and ""Alright, in my defense, you really shouldn't leave your valuables unattended." The thumbnail is framed by small clouds and stars and towards its right side it says, "graphic design is my passion".
Bottom right: A small simplified doodle of the same woman with another person who has no identifiable features and is labelled "Listener". The woman is holding onto the Listener's arm and asking, "can you order for me?"
Bottom middle: Two very shitty doodles (lol) of the same woman again. One of just her head with a hammer comming down on it and with her eyes bulging out. The hammer is labelled "CONSEQUENCES". The second one of her from an overhead angle, looking up with a smug look and a lipstick stain on her head.
Image Two: A close up of the drawing on the left.
End ID]
#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redacted fanart#redactedverse#redacted art#redactedsona#stella's constellations
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Hey 👋 I’m not too sure if your doing requests( if not completely ignore this it’s fine:)) but I was requesting a peaky blinders one-shot where reader is like an orphan and lives in an orphanage and tommy the philanthropist he is goes down to the orphanage with Polly,John,Arthur,and Ada and whoever else you want and they see reader going at it with on of the sisters. You could choose the conflict or their argument but yeah, if you could draw the reader as someone who’s quick and sarcastic with their words like a speak before thinking type of person you know. Also can this be like a tommy Shelby x daughter!reader kinda like a found family kind of trope. Sweet kisses love your stories❤️
Dear Anon,
I hope this does it justice!! I changed a few things because I felt like it fit the story better (I hope that's alright) but there is lots of family stuff. And lots of Lizzie and Tommy - not something I have ever written before so hopefully that's also alright. Sweet kisses back to you love, thank you for this wonderful idea!!!
Warnings: peaky type stuff, religious language? Implied that a priest was going to assault the reader, bad words, not descriptive death of parents, mentioned death of a baby, grief, so much sweetness and hurt comfort and hopefully laughs. I promise it's not as dark or sad as it sounds. Also some Grace bashing / group hate.
Word count: 6606 - may have gotten carried away...
Part 2
Tommy watched Lizzie closely as they approached the large building. According to his sources it housed around a hundred and fifty children, the building was large but it didn't seem that large.
It was gray and rainy, much like every day. The dark dampness didn’t bother him as it had seeped into his bones and made a home long ago. At this point, he was convinced that the sunlight would simply cause him to turn to ashes if it ever reached his skin.
Lizzie looked nervous but that was expected, he felt beyond nervous. Suddenly hoping she would change her mind altogether. Children were overrated, he would know having raised Finn and half of John's kids. But after her she lost the baby, he would do anything to bring some happiness to her. He knew he wasn't the best husband, but he was trying to do better every day.
Walking up the steps a voice in his mind started to remind him that he would only be bringing this baby into a world of danger and horror. Only going to ruin them so no God would allow them refuge. He pushed them down as best he could, reaching out to hold Lizzie’s hand. She looked taken back at the gesture, another thing wrong with them. Wrong with the situation.
They were escorted in to look at the babies. They were just as expected, plump, cute, and small. Tommy tried not to look at them too close, no point in getting attached. Lizzie would pick a baby, and he would attempt to be a good father.
He hated that he knew what it felt like to reach out for parents that were not there to hold you. He was sulking when a commotion caught his attention.
“For Fucks sakes woman! ” A girl shouted.
“You listen here. Father Stryker is a noble member of this community and organization. You will do what he asks of you.” A woman responded in a cold tone.
“We both know that’s not what God would want you old bat.” The girl snapped back and he held back a smile.
“Now you listen here, we do not know what God wants, that’s not our place. He has a way -”
“No, he sure as hell doesn't. God would NEVER.” The girl demanded. “I thought God was in all of us, and GOD doesn't want me to be alone with him. In fact, I would say he’s overcome with passion about the issue. It would be a sin for me to ignore his protests.”
“I will not tolerate such language, you foul girl!” The sound of a slap was dealt out. Tommy felt an odd feeling of unease about the situation.
“You let this happen! You. And you will BURN FOR IT. Mark my words, you will suffer an eternity for his sins. There are no amount of crosses under the sun for Jesus to croak on that would make up for your grotesque choices you evil witch.” The girl's voice was pure venom, and Tommy was overcome with an urge to protect the girl. What type of place were they running here?
“I want her,” Lizzie said clearly standing next to him looking at the Sister that was showing them around.
“Sorry Mrs. Shelby ?” She asked looking for clarification.
“The girl in the hall.” He looked at Lizzie landing her eyes on a girl that must have been about 15 standing off with the nun in the hallway. Her face was beet red, making her blue eyes seem extraordinarily bright in contrast, her fists clenched ready for a fight of any size. That girl did not care what happened, she wasn't going to back down.
“Ah, are you sure? She’s quite temperamental.” She responded looking embarrassed.
“Excellent, I’ve never seen anyone look so much like my husband,” Lizzie said with a smirk on her face.
“We’ll take her. And I’d like a word with management.” He asserted firmly. This was not the sort of thing he could look the other way on, plus it would only further the family image. Win-win.
______________________________
Another sister came into the hallway.
“Sister Margret, she has been requested by a family.” She said quickly.
You were positive this must be some type of trap. But a tall angular woman moved into the hallway. She looked like someone from a painting, impossibly pretty, elegant, clothes worth a small fortune. This was impossible.
The sister grabbed your arm and pulled you away from that bitch. Far away from the classroom you were terrified of.
The lady looked you up and down and removed the sister's hand from your arm. She shot her a warning look and the sister apologized. Whoever this woman was, she meant business.
“I’m Lizzie, Lizzie Shelby.” She said in a voice that belonged on a stage. You introduced yourself feeling embarrassed.
“We’d like to take you home if you're alright with that.” She asked holding her arm out. Normally you didn’t like being touched for any reason, but being escorted out of the place was a good enough reason for you to make an exception.
You looped your arm in hers and she strode out of the place with her head held high.
“The Paperwork -” The sister called out
“Get my husband to deal with it.” She called back, her voice dripping with power. You accompanied her into a very expensive car. You sat in the back seat beside her and watched her take in your appearance as if it had changed being in the natural light.
“Do you read?” She asked you lighting a cigarette.
“I had a tutor before my parents died.”
“How did they pass?”
“Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“We’ll expect you to go to school.”
“You’d be a shit parent if you didn't.” You mentally kicked yourself. “Sorry I -didn't” You were stumbling over an apology as the door opened and a man got into the driver's seat.
“That’s my husband. Thomas.”
“Hello,” You said feeling completely deflated. “It’s nice to meet you, both of you, It’s nice.” You couldn't remember a time being so embarrassed. You wished that they would just run you over with their expensive tires. There were just too many emotions in such a short period.
An hour ago a priest was forcing himself on you, telling you God would never allow you to get adopted, and here you were making a fool out of yourself with your new parents.
That phrase stung so bad you visually imagined pushing it from your mind.
“Did you sort the paperwork?” Lizzie asked in a frosty tone that made you wonder what their relationship problems were like.
“That and a few other things.” He responded in a tone you assumed only ghosts were capable of.
“Like what?” She said looking out the window with resentment.
“Taking the place over.” He responded easily. As if it was no big deal, like spending money on petrol for the car.
“What do you mean?” This caught her off guard and you watched a bit of hopefulness come to life in her eyes.
“Saw things.” He hesitated, obviously aware of your presence in the car. “That I didn’t think God would approve of.” You caught a slight smirk on his face in the mirror. His eyes told you it was easier to poke fun at the situation.
Lizzie hummed in approval, and even though you’d only known them a few minutes it felt like progress.
_______
They wanted to give you a few days to settle in before introducing you to the whole family. Something you saw as a bit of a red flag. The house was massive, but it was clean and quiet. Both a blessing and a curse. You were too shy to ask for something to do or go explore. Your bedroom was unbelievably beautiful, and warm.
There was a knock on the door that caused you to jump.
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?” Lizzie’s voice rang through the door.
“Of course” You responded stiffly. She came in and smiled at you, she pointed to your bed but you didn't understand what she was looking at. Should you not have been laying on it during the day?
“Is it alright if I sit?” She asked you and you realized that’s what she meant.
“Yes!” You sat up straight feeling like an idiot once again. You’d had to sit through two dinners each equally painful due to your rambling.
“How are you settling in?” She asked kindly.
“Um, fine. It’s nice. I love my room.”
“What do you get up to in here?” She looked around with a frown.
“Mostly sitting and thinking.” You responded blandly.
“Are you sure I can’t take you shopping for anything?” She’d asked at least three times, and you felt horrible imposing on them further.
“I don't want to bother you.” You finally broke. She let out a strange laugh.
“Bother me. All the time. Big stuff little stuff, doesn't matter.” She picked a piece of lint off of your bedspread. “Plus kids cost money you know. That’s no one's fault, so don’t carry it like a burden.”
Your eyes stung with tears. That was not the narrative you had grown up with parents or none. You’d always been acutely aware of the burden your existence placed on people. Her words made you feel like you were special, not something your parents could give you. This brought on a very large mix of feelings.
“Don’t cry, really all this is-” Her face appeared displeased with your reaction and it only made your hurt more.
“Normal. Not for me, it’s not. If you wanted a kid that was used to this you should have had one yourself.” the words flew out of your mouth and she was up and out of the room before you could try to apologize. You felt so much worse, you wanted to pull out all your hair trying to make it stop.
You stopped trying to hold the tears back and got up off your bed to apologize. An embarrassing apology was better than them shipping you back.
You followed the sound of her soft crying sounds. Through a door that was slightly ajar. It was a beautiful nursery. They had tried to have their little spoilt children, the guilt only became worse.
You locked eyes with her and decided the truth was always best.
“You treat me better than my parents. But they're dead and it hurts. I don't want to bother you both, it's already some kind of miracle that I got adopted at this age, I don't want to push my luck. Or live through you getting bored of me and then tossing me aside.”
For a moment you thought she was going to shout at you. But she just nodded in understanding. You both were crying, so why not try to risk a hug. You got down on the sheep skin rug next to her and hugged her.
Her grief wrapped around you with her slender arms. She pushed your face against her chest and kissed the top of your head. You didn't understand, but the hurt in her felt a lot like the hurt inside of you. So you leaned into the feeling crying just as hard.
“I lost her. She was born and - nothing anyone could do about it.” She said after a long while. The thought made your heart break all over again. “They told me I couldn't have kids. Spent years avoiding it like it was the plague and now, God it hurts.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry for you too. My dad left before I was born, mother passed when I was 13. Prostitute till I was twenty.” She let out a sad laugh. “This life.” She motioned to the house with her arm. “Is not the life I came from and my husband doesn't have much. But he has money, so don’t ever feel bad for spending it.” You looked up at her in shock. There was no way she was telling the truth. She looked like she belonged in a palace like you wanted to trust her with the whole world. So elegant, kind eyes.
“We’re the same then” you whispered.
“Absolutely not! If you become a prostitute I will have officially become the worst mother in history.” She said causing you both to laugh.
“I’m not good with people.” You joked along. Tommy pushed the door open and you stiffened slightly. No matter how you tried to calm down, he made you uneasy. Like he would be impossible to please or get to know.
“It’s not a whore house?” He said with a confused look having caught the end of the conversation. You’d never seen a man look more confused as the both of you were tear-soaked holding each other on the floor.
“Not anymore it's not.” Lizzie quipped causing him to almost smile. You wondered what made him so stuck up.
“Good lord, how did you guys make all this money again?” You asked cheekily, causing Lizzie to laugh.
“Just you wait.” She said lightly, but you couldn't help but know already that it was not God’s work that placed them here.
“Come down for lunch?” he asked you both, still slightly put off by the situation.
“Yes” she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, you watched her walls of composure surround her once again.
“Come on. Let’s see how much trouble we can get in before supper.” She said helping you up.
_____________________________
You stopped by to pick up people on the way to the shops.
“We’ll get Esme first. She’s John’s wife. Tommy’s younger brother - he made a deal with the Lee family - a bunch of gypsies - Tommy needed men, and she needed a husband. Technically I almost married John. It was a complicated time. But they both get along like a house on fire. She holds him down pretty good, probably the only reason he’s still alive.” You listened as she drove you through the countryside. “Then we’ll get Polly. She’s Tommy’s Aunt. She probably goes up against him the most. She’s some kind of Gypsy royalty, a very peculiar woman, but she means well. Hated Tommy’s first wife Grace. Well, we all hated Grace. Us women tend to stick together. We have to put up a good front against the boys or they raise hell like nothing else.”
“You’re all gangsters then?” You asked her catching her slightly off guard.
“Technically he’s a gangster turned politician. But trust me having been on the receiving end of both there really isn't a difference.”
You blushed at her words and tried to hold your tongue.
“I shouldn't have said that last part.” She flicked her cigarette case open and lit one up. “Forget I said that.” but you started laughing. You pulled up to a country-style house, chickens squawking loudly at the car engine.
“Oi! That is not a baby!” A woman with wild curly hair approached the car. She slid into the backseat and you felt awkward sitting in the front. You looked at her looking you over. “Total babe, but not a baby.” She said with wide eyes in disbelief.
“She’s fifteen,” Lizzie responded looking at you like you were a brand new car.
“Good lord. Going to have to beat the boys off of her. She’s pretty like you.”
You blushed heavily at her words unsure of what to do with the attention.
“Eh, as long as we keep her close I think we’ll manage just fine.” Lizzie smiled and turned the car around.
“I’m Esme, I’m sure Lizzie caught you up to speed.” She lit a cigarette and smiled at you as you introduced yourself. She asked you lots of questions, about how you liked the place.
“It’s cold. You can say it, love.” Esme blurted out. “It’s a monument to Grace. Should have been burnt down the second she left us.” You could tell this was a part of the stormy ocean of problems that rested between your adopted parents. You put that piece of knowledge into your back pocket. You pulled up to a stylish-looking complex and a woman in a black suit and sunglasses approached the car.
“I was going to offer to babysit for you when you need a rest - but by the looks of it I’ll be asking you for help, love.”
“How many kids do you have?” You asked while you waited.
“Too fuckin’ many,” Polly responded climbing into the back seat. “I thought you asked Tommy for a baby, not a miniature replica of yourself?”
“Come off it Pol,” Lizzie said starting the car.
“I’m serious, I thought I was seein’ a bloody ghost. I’ve known you since you were the size of a potato, when I say she looks just like ya, I fuckin’ mean it.”
You looked at Lizzie and wished you looked even a fraction of how beautiful she was.
“How's he managing with this then? He was always good with the kids when they were little but I can’t imagine he’d know what to do with her.” Polly said stealing Esme’s cigarette.
“Eh, like everything else, he’s adjusting.” Everyone seemed to find this funny.
“You look at me, that boy gives you any trouble you call me alright. I’ll set him straight.” She was strong like Thomas but soft like Lizzie, and something distinctly her own. You could tell she was in charge.
“Thank you.” You said sheepishly unsure of what else to say.
“You're welcome, love,” She said kindly.
Shopping was a lot. You cried on the way home and they had a unique way of comforting you while also making fun of you, making you laugh. Once you started laughing with them it seemed impossible to stop. You assumed that you would all pile into the sitting room, but instead, you piled into the kitchen, which quickly became your favorite space in the house. A large wooden table surrounded by something that felt so perfectly warm. Grace clearly didn’t touch this space much.
They poured you cranberry juice and set into a bottle of whiskey. The jokes got worse as the night progressed and for once your sharp tongue and misplaced comments brought a great deal of joy.
“Where did you find this girl!” Esme said between laughs
“Fighting off a Nun in a hallway,” Lizzie replied still laughing from the joke before. Tommy and you assumed his brothers appeared in the doorway.
“Wow, Looks like you Lizzie, but with Tom’s eyes” John said, or you thought it was him because he went to stand behind Esme and she looked up at him in a way you hadn't seen before.
“And his mouth.” Esme quipped and you hoped it was a compliment. He reached across the table to shake your hand.
“John”
“It’s nice to meet you” You introduced your self. Arthur came and gave you a crushing hug.
“They got you out numbered now brother.” He joked letting you go to pour himself a glass of whiskey.
Tommy gave you a tense look, like he was worried about something. He took the seat next to you puting space between you and the boys.
“Might be enough women to put some life back into this place.” Polly said with twinkling eyes.
“I’ll try my best.” You responded quickly seeing that Tommy didn’t seem happy.
He stuck close to your side, sliding glasses of Whiskey away from you as the boys started drinking. His youngest brother was only a few years older than you, and he showed up with a bunch more men that introduced themselves politely before joining into the savagery.
You scooted your self along the bench to sit closer to Tommy not knowing the others well enough to want to sit as close.
“Thank you, Lord, for blessing us with such a wonderful girl! May she shine bright for us in these dark times. To the newest Shelby!” Arthur’s voice boomed and your face turned bright red. Everyone finished a drink, but you caught Lizzie and Tommy sharing a look.
Tommy put his arm around and you were grateful to have something to lean into with all the commotion. They were the loudest and rudest, most funny group of people you’d ever seen.
“Think it’s time for bed, eh?” He asked you quietly and you nodded.
“Alright! Clear out you lot. She’s got to get to bed. We can have a proper dinner tomorrow night!” Tommy called out causing a few groans.
“But we just got here!” Finn mumbled.
Everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights to you moving out of the kitchen. Polly placed a kiss to your forehead. She said something in a different language, to which Tommy responded with a sharp nodd.
Once everyone had piled out the front door, they took you up to your room. You hit the bed feeling more tired than you could ever remember.
_________________________________________
You slowly became more at ease around Tommy. Sitting alone at the table didn’t frighten you nearly as much. You heard him shout at people occasionally and that made you determined to keep your distance.
It wasn't until Lizzie stayed away for a night getting stuck at Esme’s due to a storm. You assured her that you ate dinner and that everything was fine. In reality, you'd been sitting by the front window praying for her to come back. You hated storms and you’d just trusted that she’d be there and know what to do about it.
Eventually you decided to retreat to your room to avoid any conflict.
“Goodnight.” You poked your head into his study.
“Night, love.” He responded kindly looking up from his papers. You thought about bothering him for a moment, telling him that you were scared. You decided to slip up to your bedroom instead. Girls your age didn't get scared of these types of things.
Without Lizzie, there was an impending sense of doom about the place. Like there was pressure pushing down on you. Listening to things creak and shift, you had an idea that maybe without Lizzie here Grace’s ghost would try to snatch you up.
Laying there listening to the storm and the house, your mind cooked up a story of revenge. Grace would kill you to get back at Lizzie for stealing her mourning husband. Maybe that’s why Lizzie’s baby wasn't born right. Your heart started to race as your stomach twisted.
There must have been some deeper story, Lizzie always seemed like she was very hurt by Grace, despite having come into Tommy’s life after. But Polly’s known Lizzie since she was a baby….
Questions were swirling in your mind non stop trying to make sense of it all. Your door made a horrid sscreeching sound and you let out a scream in response, pulling the blankets up above your head.
“LEAVE ME ALONE GRACE.” You shouted hoping that it was enough that you could see it was her this whole time. She’d be deterred by your cleverness and the quilt Polly had made you.
The quilt was tugged away from your face and you balled your fists ready to fight her off. However you looked up at Tommy’s horrified face instead.
“I don’t do well with storms” You blurted out hoping that would make it better. You both looked at eachother for a moment.
“Let’s make some tea.” He said firmly. You knew that you’d fucked up and the last thing you wanted to do was have tea over the situation. You got up and he pulled your quilt around you, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you moved down the stair case.
You watched him light a fire in the kitchen and grab two glasses and fill them with whiskey.
He passed one to you and sat across from you, he took off his glasses and placed them on the table.
“Why do you think my first wife is out to get you?” He cut right to the chase.
“I got scared of the storm, and Lizzie is trapped, Grace- it’d be the perfect opportunity to get revenge on Lizzie for stealing her mourning husband.” You rushed the words out wishing you were dead. Tommy actually chuckled.
“That’s the story you’d been told then?”
“No, just the one that made sense.”
“How so?” He took a sip of whiskey.
“Everyone says this place is some kind of shrine for her, Lizzie hates it. Hates her, why exactly, I’m not sure but I know it’s because she’s hurt.”
“Lizzie is hurt by Grace?” He asked with a wrinkled brow, you didn't think he was capable of such emotions.
“That’s obvious.” You said sadly. He made a humming noise.
“I didn’t intend to marry Lizzie. She got pregnant and I married her.” He answered easily, suddenly you were very angry at him. Happy he did right by her and married her but -
“Doesn’t mean she hasn’t always loved you.” You argued.
“Is that so?”
“Obviously. Have you ever looked at her? This place, the family, everything, me. Obviously.” You were dumbfounded. How on earth could someone so smart and sharp be so daft. “She puts up with a lot of shit around here. Not once has she ever mentioned leaving or hating you.”
“Perhaps I should talk to her about it.”
“You’d better. Everywhere we go men look at her.” You said trying to scare him into doing the right thing.
“I’m sure they do, she’s a pretty woman.” He answered tensly. Suddenly you started to worry that maybe he wont ever love her, and if that was the case he would certainly never learn to love you. Panic started to wash over you.
“Do you want to watch the storm then?”
“How?” You answered even more uneasy. He got up and you followed him through to the dark sitting room. He pulled the curtains open adding the slitghtest bit of light to the room. You helped him turn the couch around to face the big window.
You watched him pour more wiskey and sit down motioning for you to do the same. Wrapped in Polly’s quilt you sat next to him and he put his arm around your shoulders.
“The only way to stop being scared is to face the thing that scares you.” He explained easily. He held you close to his side as you watched the dark figures of trees swaying violently. The lightening causing you to jump. Eventually things calmed down but you found yourself wishing that it would continue on so you could spend more time sitting like this. He just sat with you tucked into his side sipping his whiskey.
“ I do care for you and Lizzie. More than anything.” He kissed the top of your head. “Things in the past weren't always easy or safe. Keeping her at arm's length seemed like the best way to keep her from ending up like Grace.”
You listened to his voice in the dark, feelingthe pain in his words.
“However, I would hate for her to leave me for a man at the shops.” He said lightly and you snorted.
“Sorry for overstepping - I didn’t mean that she looked back at them”
“S’alright.” He answered easily. Suddenly you saw headlights coming up the drive. You felt his body tense. “Hide behind the desk,” he said seriously. He grabbed a gun hidden in the paneling on the wall. You could hear the door open and to your relief, you heard Lizzie’s voice.
“Fuck sake, Thomas! A gun! Scared the bloody life out of me!” She started to scold him but suddenly she stopped. “Are you alright? Where is she?! I knew something was wrong! Where-” her voice was muffled and you assumed it was because he was holding her.
“She’s fine, in the sitting room” He answered calmly.
“The sitting room at this hour!”
You got up and moved back to the couch hoping that they might sit with you a while longer before going up to bed.
“Why is the couch the wrong way?” She asked sitting down pulling you against her. “Miss me enough to sit up at the window like a couple of dogs.”
“Something like that.” You said enjoying the way she held you tightly. Tommy came to sit down on the other side of you. His arm came across your shoulders pulling Lizzie towards you slightly.
“Did you give her whiskey? She smells like distillery.”
“One glass to calm her nerves, won’t hurt her any.” You felt him reach over you to kiss the top of her head.
“Alright. But don’t you go turning into your father.” She said sternly causing you to laugh.
You sat for a while with the them till eventually the gray sky started to brighten with the sun of the next day.
“Let’s get to bed. We can all get in a nap before the day starts.” Tommy said. Lizzie followed you through to your room to help you into bed and make sure you were okay. After you were settled you heard them talking down the hall and hoped that he was ready to face his fears.
The next day you all had breakfast around noon in the kitchen. Lizzie and Tommy seemed in better spirits, might have had something to do with the marks on her neck, but you hoped he’d talked to her about the situation.
After that night things were noticeably different. You went to school and tried to get along with the other kids, your marks were not great, leading to long nights in the kitchen studying extra with various family members. Esme was the best person to sit with, having learned maths and reading from her mother. She knew how to encourage you without stressing you out.
Tommy on the other hand would look over the material and already look stressed. He always tried to keep his temper in check, but it was unbearable feeling him be frustrated with you. Eventually he caught on that you did worse with him there because of the added pressure, he learned to just sit next to you and work on his problems and offer you help when you needed it.
It took a lot of struggling but eventually you were caught up and getting good marks.
Things were going well till some old business needed to be handled. Tommy was to go away for two weeks, something that seemed to crush Lizzie.
To her surprise he called her everynight. You’d watch her sitting on kitchen counter talking and occasionally laughing. Then he’d talk to you about school and the weather, telling you that he missed you. That was when you realised that something must be very wrong. He was clearly in a great deal of danger where ever he was. Polly came to stay at the house with Arthur, you enjoyed having them around but it only confirmed your suspicion. Everyone seemd it was best to keep you in the dark on the whole thing.
When he came back he was very different. Somebody, or some people, were most certainly dead. A great relief fell over the family and something was different about him. He had a smile on his face when she rushed to the door to greet him. You watched how they held eachother and thought back to when you’d first met them. Things were very different. You eventually butted into the hug feeling left out.
______________
Extra Blurb.
Eventually the unthinkable happened. The boy you had your eye on at school asked you out. Not knowing what to do or what the rules are you decided to get some more information on him make sure he was worth the risk of asking.
Finn laughed at you.
“Not from the best family. But not a rival either, Tommy’s sure to have a fit, and Lizzie, I’m not sure. All in all, I don't mind the guy, you might be better off not telling them.” He said looking out the stained glass window of the Garrison. “If he gives you a hard time, come see me yeah? Don’t let him take you out of Small Heath” He looked at you seriously.
“Sure thing.” You said getting up. You shouted a thank you over your shoulder rushing out of the pub.
You thought long and hard about the situation. He made you laugh, didnt seem to care to much about your last name or who your dad was. Didn’t care that you were adopted. He was very polite, but enjoyed your peculiar sense of humor and misplaced words.
You thought about turning him down. It was too complicated and anything that would upset your parents was too much of a burden. Thinking of what you would say to him, your heart gave a painful wrench.
You went downstairs towards Tommy’s study. God this boy better be worth it or you’d put him in the ground.
You poked your head in to see him writing and Lizzie sitting on the sofa reading a magazine.
“Erm - So.” You started and watched them both look up at you.
“What are you wearing?” Lizzie said smiling at your dress.
“Go upstairs and change” Tommy cut you off before you could respond.
“Theres a boy -” You watched his face fall into his hands. “And he’s picking me up in a half hour if that’s allowed.” You fumbled with your words, wanting them to say yes badly.
“What boy” They said at the same time, giving eachother a glare.
“Noah Solomons. I met him at school.” you responded expecting an explosion.
“No. absolutley not. No way on earth am I sending you anywhere with him.”
“Finn said he’s alright.” You started by stopped once he let out a sigh.
“Finn! Fucking bastard.” He pinnched the bridge of his nose.
“Where is he taking you then?” Lizzie asked
“Just around Small Heath for dinner. I told him that I can’t be out late.” Your face got red and you looked out the window.
“Put on a longer dress. The purple one, and put your hair up -”
“Tommy! Don’t make her wear the purple one” Lizzie started to argue but stopped once she saw the look on his face. Her eyes narrowed back at him.
“How bout I wear the red one -”
“The black one is fine” They both answered suddently.
“Just put on a cardigan,” Lizzie said getting up. “I have a nice one upstairs.” You followed her up to her bedroom. She pulled out a nice cardigan and some less opaque stockings. After you’d changed you looked yourself over, more modest, but that wasn't a bad thing. Especially if it got Tommy’s blood pressure back down. Lizzie got your hair up and you were grateful for her help.
“Do you think dad will let me go?” You asked as she fixed your make up.
“Dont think he can stop you. But, we’ve done business with his father. I think he’s worried this is apart of some elaborate plan.”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll keep an eye on him” You were even more nervous now. Lizzie gave you lots of advice and you felt bad making her this worried. When you walked down stairs you could see Tommy talking to Noah at the door.
You loved the way his face lit up when his eyes landed on you, he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. You watched the front door swing shut, keeping him on the other side.
“No.” He said firmly looking at Lizzie.
“Going to have to let her find her own way sometimes.”
“No I don’t. Not with boys, not dressed like that.” He responded angrily.
“Look, I told Finn where we are going, he said him and Isaiah would be around to keep an eye out. I’ve known him for the past two school years. I - please” You looked up at him in what you hoped were puppy dog eyes. You saw the conflict rage in his eyes.
“Fine.” He sighed in defeat. “But you don’t like something, anything, you call me from the restaurant and -” You cut him off with a big hug.
“I won’t be out too late. Love ya” You said flying out the door before he could change his mind.
__
He kissed you on the cheek on the door step, promising to take you out again next weekend. After saying goodnight you watched as he drove down the drive way before opening the front door.
You were surprised at how quiet it was. You slipped your shoes off and followed the lamp light into the sitting room. Much like the day with the storm, they sat on the sofa turned around to face the large window. You moved towards them to see your dad looking beyond relieved, and mum asleep on his lap.
“So how was it then?” He asked you handing you the last bit of whiskey in his glass. You sat down next to him, watching him look you over for anything out of place.
“Felt a bit like the Queen to be honest. More Blinders than people in that restaurant. Not to mention people watching from their windows.” You gave him a look as he started out the window. “But he was nice. I -He is nice, I enjoyed myself”
“Just for food then straight back?”
“You already know that’s what happened. Can you help me get the pins out of my hair?” You turned away from him and felt him struggle to find them, pulling slightly too hard.
“What? No, this is my job hands off.” Lizzie said groggily. “What did I miss? Tell me everything.” You felt the two of them shift and Lizzie's expert hands start bringing your hair down. By the time she’d gotten it brushed Polly and Esme had showed up for a full debrief in the kitchen.
You were giggling like mad for hours with them, hearing their stories about past lovers. Some sweet, other cautionary. Eventually it was time for bed and you stopped into Tommy’s office before going to wash up.
“Dad.” He gave you a shocked look then you realised what you had said. You didnt feel like apologizing though, too tired to make a big deal of it. You leaned over and gave him a hug. “Thanks for letting me go tonight.” You felt his arms wrap around you tightly.
“I don't like it, and there will be lots to talk about tomorrow. But I'm happy that you're happy.” You kissed his cheek then headed up to bed. You knew that he’d probably already called Noah’s father, a tense conversation awaited you, but you had no doubt it was because he loved you.
@kpopgirlbtssvt
Tags List: Feel free to send a request or message to be added.
#Tommy Shelby#thomas shelby#Peaky blinders#Peaky blinders request#Dad Tommy shelby#Tommy Shelby x Reader daughter#Peaky Kids#Shelby Children#Shelby Children imagine#Tommy shelby imagine#Thomas Shelby imagine#Tommy Shelby x Lizzie Stark#Thomas Shelby x Lizzie Stark#Lizzie Stark imagine#Lizzie Stark mum#Lizzie Shelby#Lizzie Shelby Imagine#Polly gray#esme shelby#finn shelby#shelby family
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Happy Birthday Tapa! You inspire me everyday, and you're one of the few reasons why I decided to draw again, post again, build up my characters and make animations. Because of you, I feel so much more confident and motivated, and not a single day has gone by where I've experienced burnout nor hated my art, so I must thank you for reigniting my passion to create and I wish you a happy, happy, happy birthday! (๑>◡<๑)
ft. my rabbit character Shuji
<3
#Sorry I'm a bit exhausted to use words today but still wanted to put it in my treasure box#tapakah's treasures
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it’s sad we didn’t get to see some of Nyas solo missions as samurai x in the show. Can we get a solo mission of Kai where he is badass ?
also, imagine Cole hating Samurai X and thinking he is a show-off and badmouthing the samurai every time the ninjas (plus Wu, Lloyd and Kai) have dinner and Kai can’t say a word). He would be embarrassed to find out it was Kai all along hahaha
To answer that Anon I need to explain firstly Kai's role as the Samurai X here, because it's way diffrent compared to Nya's.
Here I'm gonna mostly talk about Samurai X
Why did Kai became Samurai X is pretty much easy to answer. At the beginning Kai was pretty much taken away from the fights (mostly by Nya) by other ninjas and treated a bit like a damsel in distress.
Kai was often irritated by it, because he wanted to help the team and especially his sister, by others just didn't let him have this chance. That's why he created Samurai X.
Better question is how he created Samurai X?
Kai isn't engineer of any kind or a tinkerer of any kind. You could even say that he doesn't like any too complicated technology. This just isn't his thing. So how was he able to do that?
After all this is Nya's thing and there's the point.
Since they were children Kai had to take care of Nya, when they parents dissapeared. It was hard time especially for Kai, since he had to provide food and money for both of them. And to be able to do that, Kai had to drop out of school and start working pretty quickly.
Meanwhile Nya still went to school in that time. Kai wanted her to be fully educated and have better job for the future, so she wouldn't have to work that hard like him.
In that time Nya discovered her passion for mechanisms, constructing and building machines.
So often after school his sister liked to talk about this subject and Kai would quietly listen to it. Moreover Nya had often took part in school technical projects, where she always won. For the first place she also received cash prizes, which supported them.
With new motivation and passion she started to really get into it. In her free time Nya often used to draw some plans and detailed plans for new projects with explanations.
And that's the point of how Kai made it.
At some point Kai was tired of doing nothing and decided take matters into his own hands. He stole one of her sister's project and built it cumsily.
Yes, Samurai X was originally one of Nya's project. She had a lot of them, but didn't have time or money to make it reality.
I don't think I'll give here much of Kai's solo missions as Samurai X, because this isn't part of his personality or him.
Kai did this, because didn't saw any other choice. He was able to adapt to the situation, but building machines isn't part of his hobbys or he's as good at this as his sister.
Building Samurai X was actually very difficult for Kai.
He did this becuase he wanted to help.
Of course there surely will be some solo missions of him in this, but not many.
In the beginning Nya didn't notice that one of her plans was gone, until she met Samurai X.
And obviously she was confused and furious. After she immiediatelly started searching through her projects and couldn't find it.
So yeah, like in canon non of ninjas liked Samurai X very much, but Nya hated him the most. The fire ninja thought of him as a thief, who couldn't even do her work properly.
She would be very determined to catch him and win the bet.
But during this time the meals would be very weird for some people..
Ninjas: *are eating meal together*
Cole: Yeah, and there was this Samurai X guy-
Jay: Gosh I hate that guy-
Nya: You hate him!?
Nya: Let me tell you something, because this guy isn't any kind of Samurai! That's just a cheap thief, who couldn't even do the work right and made some sort of cheap fake- MOREOVER HE'S-
Kai: . . .
Kai thinking: *Oh god I'm so dead if she finds out, I'M SO DEAD-*
First | More about AU | Previous | Next
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I think it’s kind of a question, kind of a statement but, there seem to be a lot of people upset about you utilizing ai art recently. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if you’re training an ai on your OWN art, doesn’t that cut out a lot of the unethical things about mainstream ai art generators? And if I may ask, how do you feel about mainstream ai art generators and the way it utilizes others’ art? I apologize if this comes off as rude, I’ve not seen someone train an ai specifically on their own art and I’m curious about your thoughts. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a lovely day. Your world building and art is phenomenal and inspiring.
My opinion is that the only unethical bits stem from how an operator uses a tool, not the tool itself. Stable Diffusion isn't a person, it's isn't good or evil, it is incapable of acting on it's own without a human's input.
I could do some extremely unethical things with oil and canvas if I bothered to dig them up from the closet. I have the skills to theoretically mimic the style of a known artist and then sell it as if it's genuine. I could use the same traditional tools to straight up copy an artwork and claim that I came up with the composition and plot myself.
I then could come up with an original plot and composition in my head and then achieve that with prompts and inpainting using Stable Diffusion. The prompt might have some artist's name in it to achieve a particular style, but the end result won't match anything that artist has drawn before. You can't steal a style after all.
If I did all that it doesn't make oil and canvas evil and an AI good. The only thing that mattered was my intent. If your intent is foul anything you create with any tool can be unethical.
My attitude towards mainstream AI art isn't all that different from that towards normal art. Majority of both is unoriginal, boring, poor quality or all three in that order.
On AI's side it'd be big titty babes just standing around or Midjourney stuff (I hate MJ's style with a passion), on normal art's side it'd be what I call "face in flowers" types of drawings. You'll see that exact type infesting all of Instagram.
Should these artworks not exist? No, they can stay, they have their fans so whatever. I just personally don't find them interesting.
And then a small percentage of both is truly interesting. It has surprising plot, style, other quirks or is just genuinely funny. Good art is memorable regardless of what it's made with. It's just my opinion though.
If you haven't seen anything memorable made with AI yet, I recommend you search for "Will Smith eating spaghetti checkpoint". It's burned into my mind and still causes an ugly laugh each time I remember it exists.
Or "Anime rock paper scissors" for something less meme-y.
Thanks for the compliments btw, nothing is more rewarding than inspiring others.
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I have a request for Ivar relationship headcanons regarding s/o being a non-believer (vikings)
A/n: I may or may not have spoiled my long fic lol. This is fire
---------------------------------
You could not have possibly picked a more challenging situation than this one.
Ivar can find a way for things to work in almost any situation. Heck, he could even deal with sharing under the right conditions. But faith is where he draws the line.
Even if he made a transgression by making himself a god, he is probably the most religious person there. Second only to Floki.
He learned almost everything from Floki, so he is very similar to him in that manner.
Unlike Floki, however, Ivar has no regard for faith if not his one.
If it was Ivar in Al-Ândaluz instead of Floki, he would have beheaded the praying men without a second guess.
You can be assured that whatever attracted him to his s/o is not their belief. Could be their looks, their prowess, intelligence, how they treat him, all of those and/or else.
Initially, Ivar considers his s/o faith to be a product of lies and misguidance from wherever they learned it from. He considers that by living among his people and seeing their might, his s/o will learn the true ways with the right time.
With this mindset, he’ll give them what he considers a reasonable timeframe and space for them to discover and experience his faith.
He’ll be eager to teach and guide them in his faith. It’s a way of bonding for him.
Ivar even has some curiosity for his s/o belief system, but that is because Ivar is a curious person, not because he would ever consider another belief system to be a valid one, much less convert to it.
He’ll have more tolerance if his s/o faith is anything but Christian, because he hates them with a passion. His tolerance is not forever tough.
The real problems arise when/if things get serious.
At the end of this unspoken time frame, he fully expects his s/o to have converted.
If they did, great! Smooth sailing.
If not, oh boy. Honeymoon is over.
His s/o will see a much less patient side from Ivar.
Ivar will confront them on why they still cling to their false beliefs.
If bad things happen he’ll blame that on his s/o disrespect to the gods.
Any problem in the relationship will be blamed on their faith. Related or not to it.
Ivar is not a man to give up easily, so he’ll do whatever is on his grasp to make his s/o change.
If his s/o faith involves images of any kind, those will be destroyed and forbidden.
Any rituals will be forbidden as well.
His s/o faith quite possibly involves a different language, and while Ivar would enjoy hearing sweet nothings, he will not allow them to if he believes that will be used to to follow another faith.
If even then his s/o refuses to convert, we are reaching a deal break situation here.
And if by some divine will he has a child with his s/o, the child will be raised under his faith. It’s a non-negotiable matter.
Ivar wants someone that will engage with him in his faith. That will participate in the rituals and that will strengthen his bond with the old ways.
Even if his s/o decided to just not speak about their religion, the norse practices will most likely clash at some point with their faith, so they would be faced with a hard dilemma.
Even if his s/o did not practice their faith, their refusal to accept his would be something that would slowly build up resentment for Ivar. It's something that is missing in their relationship and Ivar would not be able to find a middle ground like Ragnar was with Athelstan.
Eventually, push will come to shove and someone will have to give. It will not be him.
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Why does Carmy draw?
Why is it important to his characterization that he draws?
Is it because his true passion is being a visual artist? I don't discount this theory, but it does prompt me to try to understand why he turns toward drawing, and to consider his subjects.
The impression I get is that he draws to realize or manifest something that he wants. He draws to dream, create, become, and maybe just exist.
He drew the restaurant that he wanted to start with his brother, because he wanted to be closer to him and carry on the family legacy together. He drew the Bear right on that building: a reimagining of their family legacy of pain and trauma into what in Donna's words is "this good thing": something good and solid enough to become a physical emblem on the restaurant, a mark in the world.
He drew the girl that he wanted to connect with, who he wished talked to him more. Maybe she was a dream, a fantasy to him, because they never really connected. Yet in his hyper-masculine environment, drawing Claire may have been a way to connect with his own smart, nerdy, "feminine," sensitive self: a counterpart or mirror to him. (Isn't this what the MPDG is about?) But drawing her, her face so accurately on paper, was maybe what allowed him to imagine being gazed back at, to be really loved. Really looking at someone is how Carmy expresses love, Molly Gordon said so herself. It's all about the gaze for Carmy, and the way he looks at both Claire and Sydney has been talked about a lot.
He drew the short wool pants that he wanted to fashion, which is kinda odd-ball and could just be a bit of comedy? But the fact that he drew those short pants, which he found out that a designer had already made, may have proved to him that he was capable of greatness even if it had already been done. And that being odd-ball is ok and interesting and marketable. The odd one in the family could actually dream up something that could be made and exist out there in the real world. (Also pants are a symbolic thing for Carmy, the jeans in the oven, too.)
When he met that pants designer in his restaurant, it was such a full circle moment for him, as he tells Syd. The only image we have gotten so far is him on expo and constructing the plates before they go out, with the EC breathing down his neck and abusing him. We know at that point his cooking was perfectionistic and the environment was rigid, but he is still proud of it.
Which brings me to, he drew the menu he wanted to create with and for Syd. Sistine Chapel level drawings! Syd is a crack up but her joke is not random. She references one of if not the most well-known Renaissance masterpiece there is to refer to Carmy's work, not to mention this is where the Creation of Adam is depicted. Renaissance=Rebirth, ReCreation. This may be the stretchiest I'm stretching here. But I like that Syd is the one who makes sure we all pause with Carmy's drawings and consider this aspect of himself.
(He also had to draw their menu since there was no heat and I need to think about that some more. It's probably a whole seperate meta.)
I do think Carmy is interested in visual arts/fine arts. He hates the painting Nat chose because it doesn't represent him. The painting says Mother but Father is crossed out. Every human birth must have a biological male and female for that Creation to happen.
Maybe he needs to paint his own painting to go in that spot, a means for him to accuratey represent himself, to father himself and be the father in his life, to create himself into an existence that will bring him joy. That's art!
There is a function and a means-to-end in showing us Carmy's drawings. They perhaps tells us a story of his innermost dreams and how he is in the process of Rebirth.
This was fun to write, who knows if any of this theme will bear out, but theories theories, eh?
Thank you @thoughtfulchaos773 and @currymanganese for asking to see this in a post!
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Ciao Ash I’ve been following your work super closely for a few years and I now feel like I can ask you this, especially since you seem to be so kind with everyone and always explain yourself so well!
I work in illustration and I’ve been drawing for 10 years. For the kind of illustration I do, I rarely have to draw characters. I can draw people, in a very detailed manner too (portraits and studies and such) but when it comes to incorporating characters in my illustration style, I just can’t seem to get it right. Especially with characters who don’t exist so if I want to do fanart, I always have to do it in a way that is not very coherent to my illustration style. Which is unfortunate since I’m in a lot of fandoms and would really like to make fanart I like.
I rely on references a lot, so if I have to draw someone who exists in my style, I struggle and study and put a lot of work and time in but then I’m mostly able to. But characters from fiction? Absolutely not. I especially struggle with consistency: the character always looks different every time I draw them, no matter how many notes on their physiognomy I make…the fact that’s not a real person I can copy the features of on paper really hinders my practice. I also struggle with immediacy and synthesis: since they never look the same I always end up over - characterizing them and that is the opposite of how I illustrate.
How were you able to maintain such a consistent and stable look to these characters? Is there something I don’t know of or that I haven’t been doing and that I should? You really inspire me and I admire your work SO much! It’s remarkable how you built such a recognizable look.
Ti prego aiutami sto diventando pazzo in culo se non risolvo questa cosa voglio disegnare i miei blorbi !!!!
All the love,
Elio
Ciaooo aaa ty for the nice wordsss :’))
and ok i will try to answer as best as i can bc i’m not a professional in the slightest and also i basically have the diametrically opposite problem as you 😭 90% of my art is blorbo oriented i’m a blorbo artist first human being second. but it’s not like i have the charisma uniqueness nerve and talent to stray much from that.
ANYWAY that being said i’m sorry to give you the Very Hated answer of “u just gotta practice” but i think that’s true! i think drawing characters outside of studies (which are always nice and good etc) might not be something you’re used to, and u just need to stretch your drawing muscles a bit in that direction too!! style and consistency are something that develop organically, so i’m sure that if you keep trying you’ll look at your art one day and be like “oh shit this works!”
Usually when i draw characters i’ve never drawn before i make little studies/portraits to figure out how to draw them (evidence 1/2/3/4) which i think could be a pretty low stake way for you to practice? like maybe you can start off with one referenced portrait and then try to draw the same face from other angles but without looking at that reference and just try to figure out what are the important features that make that face recognizable? Expression sheets are another way u could do this, and then you’d have a nice self made reference board for next time.
or you could start smaller and draw different shapes of eyes/noses/mouths etc to get the hang of it, and once you’re satisfied start building your character with the features you’ve drawn
lastly i cannot stress this enough draw that blorbo NOW!! get fucking obsessed with that freak!!! let them fuel you with the brainrotting blazing passion of 28473 suns and you’ll manage to draw a hundred beautiful faces without even noticing
spero che tu riesca a cavar fuori qualcosa di utile da questo sfaso 😭 in ogni caso sono sicura che riuscirai a disegnare i tuoi blorbini devi solo smadonnare un po’ quando necessario e andare avanti 💕
grazie mille ancoraaaa mwah
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