Me Being Obsessed With My Hat And Then My Teacher Unexpectedly Drops “peaky Blinders?”

i just know henry winter would have the most atrocious blue eyed stare

Headcanon:

Chuuya is an alcoholic and always smells of it, Dazai is a chain smoker and always smells of that, so, during their mafia days, they would always smell of both cause they spend so much time together until Dazai left and someone asked Chuuya if he quit smoking cause he didn't smell of it anymore and he broke down in tears in his room right after

8/03/25 “I don’t hate you. I like you”

Regulus always dreamt of a tiny apartment with a balcony, preferably in the middle of the city near a neighborhood filled with elderly people, so he could sit every morning and people watch with a cup of coffee

When Remus curls his arms around his waist and comments on how beautiful miss Mary's flowers look this morning, everything clicks into place

He made it out

He's not cold anymore

I just love this page. Atsushi realizes that he almost lost someone who he never took the time to understand. this boy, this stranger, who has burrowed so deep into his mind, who has been completely incomprehensible to him, who died for him, is, beneath it all, just like him. they're the same. they always have been.

its regret. about the words he's said, the wound's he's inflicted, the fact that he did not see the boy right in front of him. he walked away, a specter, misunderstood, never being told that its okay for him to live. okay for him to exist in this world.

for the first time, he thinks he understands akutagawa ryuunosuke and its breaking his heart. he's breaking his heart.

i was like "Oh what's a gay pose i can draw them in" and then i realized i could just do this cannon pose when Sasuke whispers murderously (seductively) into Naruto's ear.

Francis visits Henry’s grave every year. Alone.

No one else does — no one else wants to. Charles avoids the topic entirely. Camilla sends Francis clipped replies when he brings it up. Richard pretends he never gets the messages. But Francis marks the day like a liturgy. Like a holy feast. Like penance.

He books the same suite in a faceless hotel. Wears the same black coat. Packs the same silver lighter — an old one Henry once admired in passing. It’s all performative, of course. But what is Catholicism if not grief wrapped in ritual? He fasts before the visit. Doesn't drink the night before. He makes the trip feel like confession.

The grave is unmarked, just a patch of earth in a neglected corner of a rural cemetery, the kind no one visits on purpose. Francis had to dig to find out where Henry was buried. Had to call someone’s widow and lie. But now he knows, and he treats it like a secret shrine.

He kneels every year. Gets the dirt on his trousers, on his coat, lets the damp seep into his bones because suffering feels closer to prayer when it’s physical. And he talks.

Not to Henry. Not really. To God. To himself. To something between the two.

"You ruined everything, you know," he says once. "And so did I."

He breaks off. Lights a cigarette. Doesn’t smoke it. Leaves it burning at the grave like incense. The first year he did this, he left a bottle of scotch. Last year, he left a page torn out of a Latin prayer book. This year, he doesn’t bring anything. He just sits.

And he waits. For something. A sign. An answer. Forgiveness.

But Henry is silent. Always was. Even now, dead and buried, he’s still the one with the upper hand.

And Francis — Francis goes back to the hotel, vomits in the sink, lights another cigarette with shaking hands. He doesn’t cry. Not anymore. It’s been years. But his hands won’t stop trembling.

That night, he goes to mass. Sits in the very back. Doesn't take communion.

He knows better.

sasuke uchiha x reader fic

Sasuke looks you up and down. “Disgusting