#@Chaotic Man Named Oliver

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

So, uhh tim hot in dress? We all agree? We all agree. Best husband wife fr fr

I mean...btw....id GLADLY take commissions to draw the mechs in pretty dresses n outfits- just saying

(Also thank fuck tim doesn't have Tumblr- else i wouldn't even post this- if he'd see this id FUCKING DIE-)

[ask-void-time]

Hah, so, the project died. It died because of time. Time changes circumstances. Time changes people, and they move on, grow up, and find new things that resonate with them... so is the case with this world, sadly....but not with tempus.

Do you remember tempus? The small creature you talked to and that the maker of this blog wanted to make a game about? This is them now, a demigod. A keeper of time and the void they inhabit.

You can see the art has changed a lot in two years, so has the person who made it.

But still...tempus lives close to their creators heart and you might find Tempus in their current Fangame project, that's unfortunately about a whole different place, a universe where an immortal, queer space pirate band called "The Mechanisms" roamed for thousands of years and collected stories and tragedies to sing about. If you still want to ask tempus things, i will not stop you. Hell, you might get a response! But i do invite you to check out the creators new project since he's put a lot of love into it already and will release a demo of it in the near future.

Maybe the creator will make a small-scale game of tempus in the future, now that he's got some game knowledge, but that's still within the uncertain future.

[ The Creators' Art Blog ]

[ The Creators Game Blog ]

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

Nastya. No further explanation. Just Nastya.

*tsk* Gotta hate it when you chip a nail.

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

I drew my version of marius as the photo @neitherabaron posted along with [this post] about marius' i assume now canon sexuality!

Posings a bitch regularly but i find this fairly alright!

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

I was today years old when i found out you as an artist are supposed to do warm-up drawings/sketches before drawing serious??-

[hairyjocktf]

Greek Vacation

It was finally June, and Alex could barely sleep. He’d worked his ass off the last year in college to avoid having to take summer classes, which meant he could join the rest of his family on their trip to Greece. His mom had apparently won tickets or miles or something through her job, he couldn’t remember. All that mattered was he was going to Greece! It was finally time to relax and unwind from the insanely stressful last few months. He’d gone over his packing list six, seven times now; he was absolutely sure he was ready. His family was meeting him at the airport, so he was just pacing now, waiting on that text to start moving. The phone on the countertop buzzed and he lunged for it. It was time.

Alex grabbed his oversized suitcase and lugged it down the stairs of his apartment building out to the street. He hopped on the bus and found a seat. He was giddy, this trip was his dream trip as a kid, and now he was finally getting to go. He’d helped plan out their whole itinerary, from the Acropolis to the ruins at Delphi and so so many more. Before he knew it, they were dropping him at the airport. Inside the chaotic lobby he managed to spot his parents, his dad was already wearing a massive sun hat which helped. The next hour was a blur getting their bags checked, through security, and corralling everyone to the gate. Then began the longest part of the trip: the flight. Alex had brought noise canceling headphones and an extra strong dose of melatonin that he prayed would do the job. And miraculously, it did. Nearly ten hours later he woke up to the sounds of the plane landing, and next thing he knew they were in a cab headed into Athens.

The cab pulled up to their hotel, depositing them and their bags at the foot of a beautiful white building with a grand entrance. This part was his mother’s domain. She ushered everyone inside and got them to their room in no time. Alex was unpacking and setting his stuff out when he realized he couldn’t find his phone charger. He tore everything out of his suitcase and backpack, trying desperately to find it. Nothing. He must’ve left it in his haste getting out the door, after all his phone was plugged in while he was waiting. 

Shit, he thought, before solemnly announcing the news to his family.

“We’ll stop by a store or something and get you a new one, it's fine,” his mother said, buried in her own suitcase. What a start to the trip. Alex sat on the side of his bed looking out the window at the building next door, kicking his legs waiting for them to get going. Finally, after another 30 minutes, they were getting back out the door. 

Alex and his family started wandering through the massive metropolis of Athens, surrounded by white buildings and the intense noise of a city. Only a few blocks away they came upon a massive street market, with locals selling everything imaginable. Fruits, street food, bags, shirts, phones, you name it. Surely, Alex thought, they would sell a phone charger here. He squeezed up and down through tight corridors of shops, flooded with people. He was deep into the market when his path was blocked with a crowd. He turned around, only to find the way he came in also packed tight with tourists. He was stuck. As panic started to set in, Alex heard a deep, husky voice from the stall behind him.

“You there, tourist boy,” the voice said, and Alex whipped around to see a large man with dark olive skin, and the hairiest body he’d ever seen. It was on his fingers, hands, forearms, and crawled out of his open shirt solidly up to the thick bushy beard on his face that nearly hid all his features. Alex was frozen, taking in the sight of this man. He was snapped out of his daze by the man speaking again.

“You look tired, boy. Did you just arrive?” he looked Alex in the eyes.

Alex was jumbling his words, “Uh, yes, yea I did. But I slept! I shouldn’t be tired.. I don’t think…” 

The man grabbed his hand and pulled it towards him. “Here boy, this will help you,” he said in his thick accent. He took out a small beaded bracelet and slipped it onto Alex’s wrist, tying it tight. 

“Uhh, thanks?” Alex remarked, a little confused about the whole situation. The moment was interrupted by his mother’s voice piercing through the crowd.

“Alex!! Alex!! Are you over here?” Alex jerked his head towards the voice, starting to back away from the man.

“Enjoy your trip, boy,” the man said, releasing his arm and giving a slight wave. Alex turned away and pushed through the throng of people in his way, eventually reaching his mother.

“Alex! Thank god you’re okay, we lost you immediately. Here, we found someone selling chargers,” she handed him a cord, not even noticing the bracelet on his wrist. “Alright, let’s get back on track today, shall we?” she put some pep in her voice. As the family squeezed through the crowded Athenian streets, Alex failed to notice a slight itch where the bracelet clung to his wrist.

The summer sun beat down on them as they slowly made their way up the hills of Athens. Alex was sweating buckets, the back of his shirt absolutely drenched. He looked over in envy at his dad’s sun hat that he had mocked earlier. After what felt like an eternity, they made it to the base of the acropolis. Alex’s dad groaned at the sight of not only immense crowds, but another massive rock they had to climb. Alex was undeterred however, his eyes lit up with the sight of the ruins atop the hill. This was what he’d been waiting for, and he let nothing get in his way as he dragged his family into the crowd to get closer. The slight itch under the bracelet continued, unbeknownst to Alex. His skin under it was darkening to an olive shade, slowly creeping up his arm and down towards his hand. Where the darker tone had spread, hairs began popping up, thick black hairs in contrast to his light brown wispy hairs. They continued to sprout, growing in between the last, creating a dense, curly coat. The back of his hand was next, the same black hairs wriggling out. Soon enough, his forearm stuck out like a sore thumb next to the rest of his pale body, yet no one seemed to notice.

The next couple hours were heaven for Alex. He explored the acropolis with his family, pointing out everything he’d researched and explaining even more. Between the numerous ruins and museums, the rest of the day was jam packed with artifacts. Alex even found himself remembering facts about spots he didn’t remember researching. The other constant of the day was the sun. It beat down on them from above with the full force of a Mediterranean summer, sweat constantly dripping from his forehead. It seemed like significantly more than usual for Alex, but he chalked it up to the different climate, and how much they’d been walking. Under his soaked shirt, however, his body was adapting. The deep olive color had spread all the way up his arm, with the forest of hair following, coating his upper arm. The hairs crawled over his inflating shoulder, sprinkling it with black wisps. His bicep has also grown substantially, almost like he was a regular gym-goer, matching his now beefier hand and forearm.

The sun-kissed shade continued to spread, imposing itself over his chest. Not long after, his chest began growing. It pushed out two meaty pecs, skin stretching to accommodate the immense muscles growing in slowly. His chest was sore as years of workouts applied themselves at once. The crisp definition melted somewhat as his form softened, fat layering itself onto his chest and further down as a thick muscle gut grew in. His stomach pressed tight against his shirt, stretching it to its limit. As the muscle pushed out of his frame, so did the hairs. Small black hairs began rearing their heads around his growing nipples, pushing out like thick shoots of grass. The hairs radiated away from his nipples, surging across the open fields of his pectorals, burying them in a black, curly forest. They grew longer and thicker, matting together into a rug across his chest that scratched against his shirt. The fur coat grew denser in the center of his pecs and right below, making them look like real pillow cushions. His gut tingled as the hairs began erupting, swirling together and giving his belly a thick black coat to match. By the time Alex and his family were headed to dinner it looked like he’d eaten plenty, putting on dozens of pounds.

They sat down at a street-side restaurant that Alex had recommended, exhausted after a very active first day. While they browsed the menu, Alex scratched loosely at an itch above the neckline of his shirt. The wave of darker skin tone had slowly been inching up his neck, leading a wave of black hairs. His chest fur had overtaken his collarbone and continued to spread. His neck remained bare until, suddenly, a single dark hair sprouted above his shirt. It was black, thick, and curly. Seconds later, a second hair joined it, shooting out from his shirt collar.  More and more began sprouting, giving Alex a thick dark tuft of hair curling over his shirt. This was just the beginning, though. The dark hairs climbed up his neck, following the wave of olive complexion. Alex’s lean face cracked as it widened, jaw growing thick and square. His brow jutted out and his nose grew more prominent as his face took on the darker tone. His wavy brown hair pulled back some, turning black and more curly. The itching grew as a shadow developed across his jaw, darkening as thick stubble emerged from the bare skin. The scruff seemed to age Alex up a good few years, he seemed like a real adult with the stubble, hairy forearms, and chest hair pushing out of his shirt.

As they ate, Alex briefed his parents on their plan for the next day, starting with an early bus out to Delphi. He already knew the exact times, costs, and routes to take for the perfect day. His parents were impressed at how well researched he was, not noticing the dark scruff covering their son’s face. They finished up dinner and caught a cab home, knowing they had to be up at the crack of dawn the next day.

The next morning came quickly, and with some disgruntled grumbling from his parents, they were off on their bus to Delphi. It was a three hour trip, so they settled into their seats and his parents tried to get a little more rest. Alex stared eagerly out the window, watching the mountains rush past with the sea behind. As the ride went on, he found himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like his body was agitated and he couldn’t figure out why. He tried to focus on the beautiful scenery and the maps of their destination instead. In reality, beneath his clothes, the slow moving wave of Mediterranean skin had crossed his muscle gut and reached his groin. It swept through his crotch, seeding the growth of new hair. His existent bush was sparse, and was quickly engulfed by the torrent of dark curly hairs that erupted from the base of his cock, spreading outward. Black hairs wormed out of his skin like weeds coating the entire area, pushing up towards his navel in a triangle pattern, and out onto his thighs.

Alex tried to subtly scratch at the area as the itching grew intense, using his map to hide his meaty hands groping the area. His flaccid cock absorbed the same olive color, and a thick foreskin stretched itself back over the head. It didn’t stay soft for long, engorging and pushing six, seven, eight inches in his pants. Alex shifted again to try and keep comfortable in his seat, but the growing rod was not helping him, leaving a massive imprint on his shorts. His bush continued to thicken, hairs sprouting between others, curling together into an impenetrable forest. The hairs even started climbing the base of his cock, popping out a ways up. There was a thud on the seat when Alex’s balls suddenly inflated to the size of baseballs, his sack growing furry as the same curly black hairs engulfed them. Alex had spread his legs as much as he could, he was practically on top of the guy in the seat next to him, and he was still feeling squeezed. He was about to reach his limit when the bus came to a stop. They had made it.

Like it was instinct, Alex gathered his parents and started their exploration of the site. He took them to the Temple of Apollo, the museum, and the spring. It was another relentlessly hot day, and within minutes he had started sweating buckets. He ignored it to continue guiding his parents around, but it began to take a toll. Underneath his arms, his paltry smattering of hair was starting to soak up some color, growing thicker and darker. The more sweat dripped from his pits the more hair began to shoot out of them, catching the drops and adding to the stench that began to waft from him. Throughout the morning, more and more hairs poked out from under his arms. His beefy arms weren’t able to hide the enormous tufts of hair that were pushing out of his pits, kept nice and damp from the heat. 

They stopped briefly for lunch at a spot Alex knew and recommended, taking a break from the heat before they continued walking through the town. Alex scratched at his face, his fingers pulling through a little more hair than they had the night before. The meal was a nice reprieve, showcasing some delicious local cuisine to his parents. He took the chance to explain their next destinations, and before long they were back walking up the hills. Alex was glad he’d worn shorts today, it was brutal even for June. His exposed legs had begun taking on the same tone as the rest of him, no longer standing out as pale twigs. Curly hairs brushed against his shorts as they grew en masse, traveling from his pubes downward. The hairs pushed out of his growing thighs, a burgeoning field of dark curls spreading across them. His calves experienced the same, putting on size before getting engulfed with black hair.

They’d made it to the stadium and viewpoint at the top. Alex left the couple to take in the vista and address his current problem; his shoes were way too tight. Luckily, it seemed he’d worn sandals for the day. He bent over to loosen the straps, giving some breathing room to his now size 15 feet, not noticing the coarse hairs popping out across the tops of them. Even his toes were hairy now. He stood back up and looked out over the valley, scratching his ass that had been a little itchy. The same thick curly hairs had started bursting out of his crack, creating a furry mass between his cheeks. The hairs spread out, growing like weeds over the expanse of his ass. The sweat dripping down his widening back helped the hairs take root, and they shot upward sprouting from the small of his back. His lats grew darker as black fur erupted before climbing up to his neck and blending with the thick coating on his shoulders. The coarse curly hairs grew dense and long enough to push his damp shirt nearly an inch away from his body all around. Curly black hairs poked out of the back of his shirt collar too, mirroring the front side.

The sun had begun to hang lower in the sky, signaling it time to head back to the bus station. Alex’s legs had bulked up enough to handle the constant walking up and down, as he should be used to it by now. He guided the couple back down to the town and they got on their way back to Athens, another multi-hour journey. He felt his seat was even smaller this time, his body having swelled with muscle and mass throughout the day. As the bus bumped along the mountain roads, Alex stared at his reflection in the window. His short beard was pushing out. Hairs grew longer, curling together. More hairs sprouted to fill the gaps, climbing higher on his cheeks. The beard grew incredibly dense, adding another couple years to his face. He finally gave in and scooted over, taking up both seats. The bulky man then closed his eyes for an hour until the familiar noise of Athens began leaking through the windows. 

They stopped at the station, and he grabbed the couple’s bags from the rack. WIth that motion, his short sleeve shirt that had been taught against his massive chest all day gave out, bursting open. His thick chest and belly and the incredible rug that covered them were exposed, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for him, especially in the summer. He lugged the bags to the curb and handed them over. The woman was exhausted looking, but still had a beaming smile.

“Oh, thank you so much Alexios! You’ve been amazing these last two days.” He swallowed, a large adam’s apple bulging out of his throat, “You’re very welcome. Enjoy the rest of your visit to Greece,” he said with a baritone voice and accent.

The man handed him a large stack of bills as a thank you, and the two headed off towards their hotel. Alexios sighed, it had been an exhausting day. And after all that, he needed to prepare for the new tourists he was to guide the next day.

Hey y'all, I was going to start on the poll story but it's been so close I couldn't predict it! So enjoy this race change tf in the mean time. Speaking of which, if you havent yet, go vote in the poll for the next story! There's still 2 days left.

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

:▪︎D

he's very excited about his first night as a jack o lantern

[cinewhore]

The Wrath of a Mother

Pairing: Thomas "Tommy" Shelby x fem!reader word count: 3k warnings: violence, heavy angst, kidnappings, blood, gore, guns, fighting. summary: Thomas Shelby discovers his wife's past. A/N: more peaky blinders brain rot for you all. not much else to say. no beta cause I say so! Enjoy. Credits to the gif artist.

The chaotic melody of jazz was cut off by the sound of screams.

Tommy didn’t like jazz which is why you waited for him to leave before putting the record on. It had been a tiresome day, dealing with the children, being the lady of the house. You sent the majority of the staff away, with the exception of a few maids to help with your children. The girls were young and foolish, always giggling behind their hands. 

You pay the shouts no mind, until they grow louder, the high pitched squeals of the girls being intertwined with the yelling of men. 

Suddenly, a shot rings out. You instantly cut the record, dashing into the children’s room. Oliver wakes up with ease while Alice fusses. You hated disrupting them but had no choice, telling them they were going to have a special sleepover in the guest room. 

“Now, mommy is going to go and grab some snacks. I’m going to lock the door, to keep the pesky monsters away! Mommy or daddy will come back to get you, ok?” 

Your oldest nods, the best big brother to his sister. You press a quick kiss to both their heads, not daring to look back at them before shutting the door. 

The world seemed to slow down after that. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed, couldn’t ignore the ringing in your ears, the exhilaration of shock and adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream. 

It was enough to blind a man. 

Someone was hollering your name but you couldn’t make out whose voice it belonged to. 

Hands abruptly clasp your shoulders and you shriek, twisting your body in a way to fend off whoever dared to attack you next. You try to ram the knife into the arm of your assailant but another pair of hands snatch your weapon away, leaving you defenseless. 

Tommy crawls on his knees in front of you, grasping the side of your face tightly. You squirm and squirm but stop as he shakes you. 

“It’s alright! It’s me! It’s just me!” He could tell that you were trying to comprehend what was happening and that your body was moving on its own accord, still engaged in fight or flight mode. 

“Arthur, let her go.” 

The oldest brother shoots Tommy a look. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” 

Arthur drops his hold on you and you sag forward, arms wobbling against the wooden floors, hands drenched with blood. 

“It’s alright, love. You’re ok, it's finished now.” 

It was over. You had won, however, the thin veil between this life and the old one had been hastily torn down. 

“Where are the children, hm?”

You shake your head, his words unclear to you. 

“Our children, where are they?! Alice and Oliver, where are they?” 

You raise a weakened arm and point towards the end of the corridor. “Guest room closet…I locked it-” 

“Michael, go check!” Thomas shouts. His cousin takes off without another word.

It was all too much. The noise, the lights, the commotion. Pushing yourself up on your knees, you combat Tommy and the grip he held on you, dead set on getting into a place where you could shut it all out. 

You stumble down the hallway and the flight of stairs, only tripping a few times before making it out the front door. You make it just past the hedges and collapse, stomach churning while you vomit.  

Arthur was close by, tentative of his approach. He didn’t want to scare you off further. He advances steadily, arms outstretched to show that he meant no harm. 

“It's ok, love. It’s just, Arthur. I’m not gonna hurt ya.” 

You nod, wiping at your mouth. “There were so many-" 

“Yeah. Yeah, there were. You fought them all.” 

“I didn’t- didn’t mean to kill anyone-” 

You let Arthur close enough so that he could hold your hands, uncaring of the blood smeared across yours. 

“Listen to me, eh? You’re gonna have the shakes. Your hands are gonna feel like they’re made of fucking lead. S’all normal. I just need you to breathe cause it looks like you’re gonna faint.” 

You mimic Arthur as he breathes in and out, slowing down your beating heart. You surge forward and hug your brother in law, catching him by surprise. He panics for a moment before hugging you back, rocking the two of you. 

“You did good, sister. You did good.” 

You didn’t speak about it for two weeks. 

You knew that he wanted an explanation, you felt it every time the two of you were in the same room. There was a lingering stare he would give you that he gave to each of his enemies. It was menacing, calculating and ominous. You knew the longer it took for you to offer up clarification for your actions, the more he began to suspect that you were placed in his house, in his bed, based off of an ulterior motive. If that were the case, you would’ve killed him by now but Tommy was no fool nor was he new to this type of life. He knew when people played with their food before eating and he refused to be swallowed by you. 

His lovely, little wife. 

It was a pleasant Sunday morning. You figured after breakfast you’d take the children into the gardens, perhaps have them splash around in the pond to tire them out before lunch. Tommy’s side of the bed was empty and cold by the time you woke up, which didn’t surprise you. 

The lack of boisterous noise coming from the children is what tipped you off. 

You remain calm as your lady’s maid helps you dress for the day, swapping out your gowns for a nice riding outfit. 

“Lily, where are the children?” you query the young girl. 

“Mr. Shelby arranged for them to spend the day with Ada, madam. She collected them this morning.” 

You rock your jaw, vexation settling into your features. He secluded you, tapered off the one distraction you wouldn’t be able to use against him. 

“Thank you, Lily. Where is Mr. Shelby?”

“He’s awaiting you in the dining hall for breakfast.” 

Nodding, you finish your last little bit of preparations before seeking out your husband. 

Thomas was a sight to behold. He sat in the chair facing away from the window, the morning glow casting a hazy aura around him. He held the newspaper in front of him with rigidness, eyes covered with his spectacles, long eyelashes gracing his cheeks whenever he looked down or blinked. 

You don’t bother clearing your throat, knowing your husband was programmed with an innate capability of being able to detect when he was no longer alone. He huffs out an exhale, flipping the pages of the paper. 

Frances pulls your seat out for you and you thank her, watching as she pours you a cup of coffee. 

“Shall I crack your egg for you?” 

You shake your head. “No, thank you. I actually find that I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.” 

“Shall I ask the cook to prepare something different for you? Perhaps you’d like some fresh fruit? We just received some apples.” Frances tries again. 

You give a sympathetic smile to the older woman, always grateful for her thoughtfulness and warmth. “I’ll just have some water.” 

Frances pours you a hefty glass, bowing slightly as she exits the room. 

You take a quaint sip from the glass as Tommy folds the paper, tucking it underneath his plate. 

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? The toast was quite delicious.” 

“You sent the children away without telling me.” You place the glass carefully on the table, using the condensation to wet your neck. 

“I am their father, I can make decisions about where they go.” Tommy hums, rolling his neck to finally get a look at you. Even on low hours of sleep and no makeup, you were a natural beauty. You fixed your hair up in a way that he especially liked, the pins keeping it held firmly in an ornate fashion. 

“You don’t send my children anywhere without me knowing about it.” You bite back coolly. 

“Well,” He claps his hands together. “I figured we could use a day to ourselves. Frances has made us a nice picnic near the edge of the garden, our horses have been saddled and for the ultimate surprise, we’ll be shooting pheasants for dinner.” 

You force out a grin, swallowing down the lump that was squirming its way up your throat. “What a perfect day.” 

The picnic was gorgeous and you hated the way you tore into your food after skipping breakfast. Tommy made little conversation and you obliged him for the time being, willing yourself not to disassociate. 

He was setting you up. While you remained neutral about the usage of guns and their place in the house, you always refused to shoot one if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Tommy had given you one for protection and you kept it locked in a box, stored in the back of your wardrobe. The last thing you wanted was for the kids to find it. 

Maurice, a stablehand, was already stationed near the edge of the forestline, a trap full of pheasants at his disposal. Tommy hands you a shotgun and the both of you prepare them for the task. He’s the first one to shoot and achieves a few hits, your duo of foxhounds sprinting to capture them. 

You check over your gun once more, ensuring that it wouldn’t backfire and injure your shoulder. 

“I’ll take four.” You tell Maruice and he gawks at you before straightening his posture. 

“Are you sure, ma’am?” 

Raising a single eyebrow was enough to get the young man to hush, nodding his head that he understood. “Be quick when handing me the other gun.” 

“On your signal.” 

You raise your weapon upwards, relaxing in your stance and emitting a low release of breath. 

“Pull.” 

The flapping of wings alerts your senses. Watching them disperse into the sky, you aim your gun a few paces ahead, striking two birds instantly. Rapidly swapping out guns, you anchor yourself a bit before plucking off the remaining two. The dogs are happy as they trot to gather the rest of the birds. 

Maurice seeks to hide his amusement but fails. “Great fucking shot, Mrs. Shelby!” 

“Thank you, Maurice. Hang two of them for dinner, please.” 

You don’t say another word as you set off for the stream nearby, Tommy close behind. 

You strip off your shoes and socks, placing your slightly blistered feet into the running waters. Tommy takes a seat beside you, lighting a cigarette. 

“Are we going to talk or keep playing the silent game?” 

“You’re the one who makes speeches.” 

Tommy chuckles. “You’re a great shot.” 

“I know.” 

“I just want to understand how a woman such as yourself swore of guns but managed to take on six armed men with the precision and execution of someone who enlisted.” 

You snap your head over. “What, so you think I’m a spy now, huh? Is that it? A Soviet spy sent to crush Thomas Shelby and his empire from within? Give me a fucking break.”

“I’m not picking a fight with you-” 

“But you are! That’s what this is, isn’t it? A fight that has gone on for far too long.” 

Tommy goes silent, like he always does. At this point the both of you realize that you were no longer referring to the conversation at hand but what was left unsaid in between the lines. You let yourself wallow in the anger for just a few more moments before exhaling deeply.  

Absent-mindedly, you pick at the tiny blades of grass, ripping and ripping until they scatter out of your hands like confetti. 

“I was framed,” you start. Tommy perks up at the sound, lighting a cigarette. He attempts to pass it to you but you refuse it. “I was young, barely a teen. An orphan.” 

“The New Prospects Orphanage in the Netherlands.” Tommy comments and you nod your head. 

“On Wednesdays, we would take walks around the city so we could be shown what proper ladies were like. There was a girl, Claire, who would sometimes sneak in our group and walk with us. We were friends. The older girls were vile and teased her. Pushed her down a flight of stairs. She cracked her skull.” 

You stop at the mention of your old friend, rushed memories of that fateful day speeding through your mind at the speed of light. You remember the blood slowly leaking out from behind her head, staining the white hair bow she wore. 

“I reached out to try and grab her, if anything we would’ve fallen together but she slipped right through my grasp. I was blamed and whilst they were discussing what to do with the police, I took off.” 

You look at Tommy, who was already eyeing you with precision. “I apparently made some very bad fucking enemies that day.” 

He began putting pieces together mentally, filling in the gaps of his research. From what he had gathered, you were at an orphanage until you were twelve, moved to the States until you were eighteen before making your way back to London. You remained lowkey, worked jobs mostly as a secretary and lived a bland existence until he met you a few years after being back from France. 

You steal his cigarette, sucking on the stick like it was the last one on earth. 

“Claire came from a notable family within the Netherlands. Her brother wouldn’t stop until he saw my head on a stick. They sent people after me.” 

Tommy sticks his tongue out to wet his lips briefly. “Eli Delbeke.” 

“Eli Delbeke.” you repeat. 

He was one of the six bodies Tommy discovered after the carnage. He knew who you were, the woman you tried to hide behind. He hunted you until he cornered you in your own house, threatened to feed your children to his dogs. Eli had sent nearly every thug, gangsta, and man for hire after you. You managed to defeat them all.

You didn't like how easy it was for you to snap someones neck, hated the way blood circled the drain during a shower.

“He knew you were going to be alone.” Tommy concludes. “He knew about the rally.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, there shouldn’t be any more of them alive. I survived the onslaught. And you want to know what lesson he could’ve learned?” 

You put out the cigarette beside you, coughing. “Grief isn’t good for business.” 

It happened so fast that you didn’t have time to blink. The foundation was in full swing at its grand opening, members of high society swarming all around you. You wouldn’t lie and say you were thrilled to be there but this was Tommy’s moment and as his wife, you had to play your part. 

Photographs were taken and you smiled politely, Alice in your arms and Oliver hiding behind your leg. The boy was utterly shy and you hated placing him in situations like this. Balancing Alice on your hip, you shoot an apologetic look at Tommy and the others, awaiting a photo op. 

You brush back Oliver’s hair, trying to coax him forward. “Come on, Oli. It’s ok! We’ll smile very quickly for a photo and then we can go wait outside for daddy.” 

Tommy grows impatient and grabs Oliver, taking him by surprise. He begins to sob and thrashes around in Tommy’s hold. 

“Shelby family, look this way!” The photographer instructs and you all oblige. The flash goes off and the crowd around begins to disperse.  A woman in a maid outfit reaches for Oliver and Tommy hands him off willingly, eager to get away from the clamoring of chatty women. You were busy adjusting Alice’s dress, setting her back down on the ground.

You look around for Oliver, noticing you couldn’t hear his cries anymore. 

“Oliver?” you call out to no avail. “Oli?” 

Clutching Alice’s hand, you ask around the room if anyone has seen a little boy. All people shake their heads, your panic grows more by the minute. 

Polly senses your agitation. “What’s wrong, dear?” 

“It’s Oliver. We just took a photo, I sat Alice down but when I looked up, he was gone.”

Polly gives you a look you know too well and your face drops. “Oh, Poll-” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.” 

Polly alerts other members of the family, sending them in different directions. She then escorts you out into a more secluded area of the building. 

Ada and John join you, all with forlorn expressions. 

“Nobody has seen ‘em.” John reports, Ada backing his claim. She places a protective hand on your back, guiding you to sit on a bench. 

“Let me hold her.” she says calmly and you reluctantly let go of Alice. 

Arthur and Tommy march up to the family, fists balled and faces set like stones. 

“He was seen being taken in a car by some woman.” Arthur shares, eyes downcast. You stand up abruptly, stepping a few paces away from everyone else. Breathing becomes a difficult task and you clutch at your chest. 

The familiar sensation of rage and anguish sneaks upon you, digging its sharp claws deep into the fiber of your being. 

Tommy folds himself over you in an endeavor to console you. “This is all my fault. I will fix it. Don’t you fucking worry, I will fix this. Those fucking Italian bastards will not get away with this. It’s going to be ok, I promise.” 

You cock your head to look at your husband, the only thing visible from beneath your hat was your red brimmed eyes. A lone tear escapes and you refuse to let any others do the same. 

It was if you were possessed by the devil himself.  

You straighten yourself up, sniffling quietly. “Ada, give me my child.” 

Ada does as she is told and if you were being more observant, you might say that Ada feared you in that moment. 

You were going to see to it that whoever took your child would die by your hands. 

They weren’t going to fear you as Tommy’s wife nor as a Shelby but as a fucking mother. 

[chvoswxtch]

invasion of privacy

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank catches you with something you shouldn't have, and your world gets turned upside down in more ways than one.

warnings: swearing, lots of angst, brief mention of bomb violence

word count: 2.1k

a/n: I hope y'all enjoyed the nice & light hearted last chapter, because we are kicking up the drama from here on out. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“What’s this?”

“Hm?”

You were in the process of proofreading through your latest article one more time before submitting it to Ellison, and your attention was focused solely on the mountainous layers of black text on the screen in front of you. 

“This.”

Frank’s voice rang harshly in your ears, and the shift from his previous gentle inquisitive tone jarred you to the point of whiplash and broke your concentration completely. Turning to face him in puzzlement, your breath hitched in your throat when you realized what he was holding.

The file with his name on it.

Your eyes nearly doubled in size, and they hesitantly raised to meet Frank’s. The warm melted chocolate of his irises had darkened considerably with anger, and you could see a ring of betrayal burning around his pupils.

“I don’t know.”

Frank let out a dry scoff when you blurted your words out, his jaw clenching so tight you swore you could hear the way his teeth ground together from across the room. There was a chaotic frenzy disrupting his usual calm demeanor as he looked through the contents of the file. Every single page he furiously flipped through was another drop of gasoline trickling towards an unavoidable explosion.

Whatever was inside that file, it turned Frank into a man you didn’t recognize. 

You quickly rose from your chair to take the stand in your own defense, hands outstretched in an olive branch towards him.

“Frank, I swear. I haven’t looked at it-”

“Bullshit!”

The catastrophic boom of Frank’s voice echoing around your office startled you, and the four walls suddenly felt a lot thinner with his massive fuming frame taking up a majority of the space. His reaction had anxiety racing through your bloodstream, but your anger always managed to come out on top.

“I haven’t. I didn’t go looking for that, Frank. Someone left it on my desk-”

“When.”

A sudden wash of guilt doused the unjustified irritation you felt. Frank stared you down from across the room, the flimsy material of the file succumbing to the strength of his hand, his features a concoction of fury and treachery. You had to avert your iniquitous gaze to confess.

“After the gala.”

Frank blew out a deep exhale through his nose, incredulity blowing his eyes wide open as he chuckled humorlessly.

“That was a fuckin’ month ago.”

“I never opened it. I forgot I even had it-”

“You expect me to believe that? You been carryin’ this goddamn thing in your purse every fuckin’ day for a month now, and you ain’t read it? You just forgot it was there? Just cause I don’t have a fancy ass degree don’t make me fuckin’ stupid. You fuckin’ reporters, you’ll do fuckin’ anythin’, yeah?”

Frank’s voice got louder and louder with each word, like warning claps of thunder that signaled how close you were to an inevitable downpour. He was nearly yelling by the time his heavy boots brought him right in front of you, and you found yourself staring down the eye of a violent hurricane. 

For the first time since you had met Frank, you were afraid of him. 

Even though you felt frozen in place, your fingers shook violently with trepidation at your sides. You couldn’t look away from the storm brewing hastily in his eyes. You just hoped he could see past his own wrath to find the truth in yours.

“I didn’t read it because I thought it would be an invasion of privacy.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed into accusatory slits, his nostrils flaring to accommodate his furious exhales. His voice had a sharp edge to it that cut deeper than any blade ever could.

“Invasion of privacy. That’s real goddamn rich.”

There was nothing you could do. He had all the evidence for a conviction. You had been caught at the scene of the crime, and all you could do was beg for a lenient sentence.

“Frank-”

At that moment, your door swung open to reveal a very distressed looking Billy Russo. When his lips parted to speak, he suddenly paused, as if the tension lingering thick in the room was as visible as a dense fog, and his eyes flickered between you and Frank before settling on you almost in an expression of concern.

“Sorry if this is a bad time, but we gotta talk.”

A sense of relief immediately rushed through you at Billy’s intrusion, grateful to not be alone in your small office with an incredibly pissed off Frank Castle. Billy didn’t miss the way you practically sprinted towards him without another look at Frank.

“We can talk in the conference room if you-”

“Actually, I need to talk to both of you.”

Billy looked directly over your head to stare at Frank. There was a look on his face that you didn’t know him well enough to read, but as you glanced over your shoulder at Frank, you noticed that his face was void of any anger and instead had morphed into confusion. When you looked back in Billy’s direction, he was staring down at you with clear remorse carved onto his sharp features.

“There ain’t no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna get right to it. Homeland is pullin’ your detail.”

All of the oxygen in your lungs felt like it had been knocked completely out with that one sentence. You gaped at Billy, and his lips tugged downwards in a pitiful frown.

“I’m sorry-”

“What?”

You could hear Frank stalking over towards the both of you, and the evident skepticism and irritation that layered his gruff voice. But his and Billy’s voices sounded muffled in your ears, as if your head was submerged underwater.

“Look, I wasn’t happy about it, alright? They don’t think she’s a prime target anymore-”

“The hell she ain’t. Those assholes-”

“Found a new target. More high profile. Cause of that and the fact that they ain’t threatened her in over a month, they’re pullin’ her detail and it’s gettin’ reassigned.”

“To who, Bill?”

Billy’s eyes flickered to meet yours, and you could see the apprehension shining in them along with a sliver of guilt.

“Who is it, Billy?”

The clear defeat in your quiet voice made him sigh, and his lips parted as he stared down at you in contrite-ridden sympathy, as if he was trying to figure out how to soften the blow of whatever was about to come next. 

“Steven Price.”

Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt at that moment. While you were navigating your disbelief and confusion, Frank was battling to control his already unraveling vexation.

“What?”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin' me.”

Billy glanced between you and Frank when you spoke at the same time. He completely ignored Frank’s outburst as he brought his hand up to gently place on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze in a gesture of comfort. He let out another sigh of exasperation while he gazed down at you.

“Homeland wants to keep this under wraps, they ain’t even lettin’ it hit the media, but you deserve an explanation. This is off the record. Price’s office got a threat letter with demands forty eight hours ago, and yesterday a vehicle that was supposed to be takin’ him to a debate was blown up. Lucky for him, he wasn’t in it. Local news was told to report that it wasn’t a terrorist attack, just a faulty engine or somethin’. They’re tryin’ to avoid more mass panic. But, Homeland is takin’ it extra seriously-”

“Because of his family name and position.”

There was complete detachment in your voice as the reality of the situation sank in. Steven was more valuable to them. He was the one they thought was worth protecting. No one would bat an eye if a lowly journalist was murdered by a terrorist group that she antagonized. But a man that came from one of the oldest wealthy families in New York that had connections all over the world and was currently running a political campaign? That would be front page news.

“You really wanna protect that asshole?”

Billy dropped his hand from your shoulder to turn and face Frank, clearly annoyed by his inquisition.

“Of course I don’t. But Homeland-”

“Fuck Homeland. It’s your company, Bill. You can say no.”

Frank’s voice had an eerie calmness to it, but it was convoluted with reminiscent indignation and the faintest sting of an allegation.

“You think I didn’t try? I don’t think you understand the situation I’m bein’ put in right now, Frank.”

Billy and Frank appeared to be in some kind of silent standoff as they stared each other down. Billy wore his mixed emotions of annoyance and dubiety clearly on his face, and it translated into the way his fingers twitched at his sides. The slight furrow of his brows showed that he was upset by Frank’s unspoken challenge that he wasn’t fully utilizing his power like he had said. 

Frank on the other hand was completely stoic. The only giveaway he had about this whole situation at all was the glow of rage still burning in his eyes. 

“When’s this happenin’?”

The placation in Frank’s gruff voice bothered you. It sounded like he was routinely asking Billy about the weather, not when you were gonna be thrown to the wolves to fend for yourself.

Billy straightened his shoulders as he stared at Frank for a moment, pursing his lips into a thin line.

“Already has. I came to collect you and the others.”

You suddenly felt lightheaded and nauseous with the way your heart had plummeted into the pit of your stomach. 

This was really happening. 

“Listen, darlin’-”

“It’s not your fault, Billy.”

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at either of them. Not that Frank probably would even look at you. He hadn’t so much as glanced at you in the slightest since Billy walked through that door. A deep sigh sounded beside you as an expensive sterling silver tie clip came into view. Billy braced his hands on your shoulders and dipped his head to catch your eye line. There was an expression of severity on his face, like you had seen when he held you in this exact same way in front of the elevators the night of the gala.

“I’m gonna figure somethin’ out for you, alright? I’m not gonna leave you hangin’. Just…sit tight. Try not to cause any trouble.”

Billy attempted to flash you a charming smile, but it didn’t even meet the edges of his lips. After giving him a small nod, he stared at you for another minute with an unreadable expression this time before giving your shoulders one final squeeze and taking a step back. He momentarily glanced over at Frank.

“I’ll be waitin’ out front.”

Billy granted you one final look of condolence before leaving you alone with Frank.

When you turned to face him, he wasn’t even looking at you. He was staring at your office door that Billy had just left through with a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. He almost looked completely indifferent, but there was an aura of suspicion staining that callousness. You swore you heard every tick of the clock snapping clearly in your ears for the next sixty seconds before he finally shifted his attention to you.

Frank’s face was completely blank. There wasn’t a shade of an emotion that you could detect. His features weren’t twisted up in any kind of clues. He looked just as impassive as he had the first day that you had met him. Seeing him revert to that state after months of progression in your complicated relationship hurt worse than any heartbreak you had ever experienced. 

He was staring at you like you were a stranger on the street.

Frank wordlessly folded up the file and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, his vacant eyes staring into your pleading gaze. At this point, you wished he would go back to yelling at you. You would take something, anything other than this tortuous silent treatment.

He wouldn’t actually leave you like that, would he? He said he wouldn’t. He swore he wouldn’t. Frank would always be there for you, to keep you safe. That’s what he had promised. 

Right?

You waited for him to say something. You stared at him in desperate expectancy for him to do something to fix this nightmare. You held your breath for him to make the same promise that Billy had, to figure something out.

But as quietly as Frank had come into your life, he was now slipping out silently.

And just like that, he was gone.

tags: @hopeful-evermore @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed@fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe

[ihearthes]

Gospel Oak Primary School

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Original Named Female Character

Rating: Fluffy Meet Cute

Word Count: 2776

Rachel was sprawled on her back, her body twisted into an unnatural knot. Her right knee jutted out at an odd angle, one arm flung carelessly above her head, the other partially tucked beneath her. Harry Styles lay atop her, his breathing a stark contrast to her laboured gasps. His face was buried between her breasts, a position she had often fantasised about. But now that she was actually experiencing it, the reality fell short of her expectations. Harry's hands were scattered haphazardly, one resting on her shoulder, the other clutching his own thigh.

The oppressive heat of his body enveloped her, a suffocating weight that pressed down on her senses. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to savour a moment that had been anything but blissful. The collision of their bodies was a jarring, uncomfortable clash, a stark contrast to the romantic fantasy she had conjured. After all, how often does one find themselves entwined with the legendary Harry Styles, a man whose image is plastered across magazine covers and plastered on the hearts of millions?

“Bloody hell!” Rachel swore, mentally checking her body for any lasting damage from the impact of his body with hers.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry scrambled to his feet, seeking his phone, his eyes roaming the space where they had been entangled. Locating it, he leaned over to grab it quickly before he reached out a hand for her. “Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head as she grasped his hand to rise from where they had been lying. “Only my pride, I think, although I suspect I’ll be a bit sore tomorrow.” The wince that accompanied her words was proof that she was already anticipating the painful muscles. 

Earlier that day, the final bell of the day had rung, a sweet symphony that promised escape from the chaos of the classroom. As Rachel carefully assessed her remaining time and the tasks she still had to complete, she found herself trapped in a conversation with Leo, the new maths teacher, a man whose complaints were as endless as the day was long.

"Oliver's parents are driving me mad," Leo lamented, his voice rising in a crescendo of frustration. "They keep demanding more and more homework. I've given him mountains of work to do at home, but it's never enough!"

Rachel tried to soothe his ruffled feathers. "I'm sure you're doing your best, Leo." But her words fell on deaf ears.

"He gets three times the homework as the other kids," Leo continued, his voice growing louder. "I've tried explaining to his parents that he needs time to play and socialise, but they won't listen. He must spend hours every night doing homework!"

As Leo's voice droned on, Rachel noticed his gaze wandering south. His eyes lingered on her chest, a blatant disregard for her discomfort. Finding a convenient excuse, she broke away from the conversation with a quick, “Oh, I forgot to respond to the headmaster!” before hurrying back to her classroom.

With a sigh of relief in the silence of her own class, she began planning her lessons for the next day. But as she glanced at the clock, a wave of panic washed over her. If she didn't leave immediately, she would be late for her super important first date with the guy whose attention she had been clamouring for during the previous three weeks. 

With a frantic tug, Rachel snatched her crossbody bag and lunchbox, her phone tumbling into the chaotic jumble of items within. Her heart pounding in her chest, she bolted from her classroom, her footsteps echoing through the deserted hallways. Her short legs pumped with renewed energy, propelling her curvy body forward at a breakneck pace. She scanned the hallways with a wary eye, desperately hoping to avoid another encounter with the insufferable Leo.

That morning, Harry had lounged in the sun-drenched comfort of his bedroom, his eyes fluttering open to the gentle caress of morning light. With a leisurely yawn, he slipped into workout attire and strolled to his home gym. There, he moved through a series of stretches, humming a new melody he had composed the day before. His workouts were less about sculpting his physique and more about maintaining overall well-being. Not that he was ashamed of his appearance; he simply preferred a more relaxed approach to fitness during his downtime between tours.

After an invigorating shower, Harry indulged in a breakfast of yoghurt and fresh fruit from his own garden. Then, with a sense of contentment, he retreated to his study to work on some poetry and potential lyrics. The words flowed effortlessly from his pen, transforming his thoughts into passionate expressions. When inspiration struck, he would wander over to his piano and experiment with different chord progressions, sometimes attempting to recreate a jazz tune he had heard during his workout.

After a leisurely lunch of sun-ripened tomatoes, homemade mozzarella, and a splash of his favourite Italian olive oil, a pang of realisation struck Harry. He didn't have any fresh baguettes for tonight's dinner. His sister, Gemma, was bringing her baby over, and his sister had a voracious appetite for vegetarian fare. Harry had planned to whip up a batch of homemade pasta with his own tangy marinara sauce, using fresh vegetables from his garden.

A grin spread across his face as he grabbed his green Pleasing bag. The pride he felt in creating meals from the fruits of his labour was immense. This would be the first time he had cooked for his sister, and with the baby old enough for purees, he had grand plans.

"Mushy carrots and peas will be perfect!" Harry chuckled, his excitement bubbling over. Both vegetables would come straight from his garden. How had he lived without the joy of homegrown produce for so long?

Pulling a light windbreaker over his shirt, he paused once more to gaze at his face in the mirror. Should he shave? Nah. Maybe tonight before Gemma and Michal actually arrive, but not yet. 

After leaving the bakery where he purchased three distinctly different baguettes, he was thrilled to find a Lime Bike right there, as if it were waiting for him. Scanning the QR code on the bike, he found that it was available. Slinging the green Pleasing bag, now holding fresh flowers for the dinner table, over his shoulder, Harry set off for home, the baguettes in the basket of the rented bicycle. His Airpods were delivering a delectable diet of music from recent releases and a few of his favourites directly to his ear canals. 

His phone buzzed with a text message, and Harry took his eyes off of the footpath in front of him for only a moment to read what his sister had to say. 

Which is precisely when the collision with Rachel happened. 

Sprawled across her, the bike wrapped around his legs, he blushed upon realising that his lips were quite close to her breastbone – not at all a good location for a first meeting with a stranger. 

She sputtered, rightfully so. “Bloody hell!” 

“I’m so sorry!” He scrambled for his phone which had gone flying from his hand when he’d run into her or she’d run into him. No way for him to know for sure which way it happened. “Are you hurt?” 

“Only my pride, I think, although I suspect I’ll be a bit sore tomorrow.” She grasped his outstretched hand, using his strength to haul her to a standing position. 

“I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone,” they both revealed simultaneously before surprise caused their foreheads to crease, their eyebrows to rise, and a laugh to explode as though they were twins. 

“I’m sorry.” The woman looked at her feet. “I’m Rachel.” She thrust her hand forward, and he clutched it like a hiker grasping a sturdy branch in a storm.

“Harry.” 

“I know.” 

Following her pronouncement, they both stood awkwardly for a moment before Rachel shifted to the side. “Your baguettes seem to have escaped.” While she gathered them, Harry stepped to the bicycle, lifting it to its appropriate position and checking to be sure it hadn’t been harmed and was still streetworthy. Luckily, these rentals were built to withstand the worst possible collisions. 

“Thank you.” His response when she put the baguettes back into his bicycle basket was perfunctory, but then he tilted his head. 

Everything before then had been a blur, but now he could see her clearly. Rachel was a petite woman with a vibrant personality that belied her small stature. Her dark, curly hair framed her face in soft tendrils, and her full figure added a touch of voluptuousness to her overall appearance. Her eyes, a deep shade of brown, sparkled with intelligence and mischief, inviting others to delve into her world.

“You were heading somewhere in a hurry.” The statement rose at the end like a question. 

“Yes, one of my students – he’s playing footie today, and I promised I’d come watch him, but I’m afraid I’ll miss him if I don’t hurry along.” She adjusted her bag across her body, fumbling her phone. “Please don’t think I’m rude. If this were any other day and I had run into the famous Harry Styles, I’d be much more effusive. It’s just that…” She began walking along, talking to him over her shoulder, “I’ve been trying to get this kid on my side for ages now, and football is the only thing that matters to him. Maybe we’ll run into each other another time!”

She waved over her shoulder as she walked away, kicking herself for having missed her chance to chat with the popstar. But she’d been regretting her inability to develop a relationship with Josiah for weeks. He was more important at that moment.

Watching her walk away, Harry realised he might never have another opportunity to talk to her again. He cursed under his breath before following behind her on the bike. When he caught up, he dismounted and walked alongside her.

“That’s really kind of you,” he commented. 

She jumped and twisted her body to him, a frown creasing her brow. “What is? And why are you following me?” 

“I like footie,” he shrugged. “And it’s really kind that you’re willing to go see your student practise so you can connect with him.” 

“Well, he’s a bit of a terror,” she laughed, glancing at the time on her phone. 

“Oh, no!” Harry exclaimed, “I broke your phone.” 

“Huh?” She examined the phone with its cracked screen and then a guffaw left her body, the sound one of pure joy, making Harry’s heart happy. “No, my phone has been broken since last spring when last year’s terror took it off my desk and threw it from the top of the playground play structure.” 

“But how do you see everything with that giant spider’s web of cracks on it?” He was sincerely bemused. 

“You can get used to anything when you haven’t the money to replace something just because it’s broken.” 

“But couldn’t you get the screen replaced?” 

“Probably,” she revealed, crossing the street at the zebra crossing to get to the practice field. “But there’s never any time to take it anywhere. I’ll just wait until my next paycheck. Then I can put a downpayment on a new one.” 

“Oh.” 

She was scurrying a bit faster now that they were close to the field, and her breaths became more laboured. “I’m going to be late. I hope I don’t miss everything.” 

Harry couldn’t believe that her short legs could move so quickly, and he had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her as she turned into the park where parents and children were gathered. Standing on the sidelines, Rachel covered her eyes and searched the boys on the pitch. 

“There he is!” Excitedly, she pointed to a young man of about 10 years of age. “Josiah!” Jumping up and down, she waved until he looked over to her. 

For a brief moment, his face reflected happiness, but then he waved her off as he turned back to his friends. Harry slumped in disappointment. He had thought her presence would do the trick, but apparently she was going to have to make a bigger effort. 

“Oof, that wasn’t encouraging.” 

“What are you talking about?!” She squealed. “He was practically overjoyed to see me. This is indeed a success.” 

Confused, Harry watched her face, convinced that perhaps he had the wrong boy in mind, but she followed every move the boy made. She clapped and called his name whenever he caught a pass or blocked someone. When he missed the goal he’d been attempting, Rachel cheered even louder from the sidelines, telling him, “That’s okay, Josiah! You’ll get it next time!” She took photos and videos as though she were the proudest parent.

The boy ignored her for the most part. 

Shaking his head, Harry wondered if perhaps she had lost her mind, but he wanted her to be successful in her endeavour so he joined in with her cheers until the practice finally ended, and the boys gathered with their coach. 

“Aren’t you going to go talk to him?” Harry wondered as she placed her phone into her bag. 

“Goodness, no. That would embarrass him.” 

“But…” Helpless and confuddled, Harry watched as she started to walk away. His phone vibrated again, and he glanced at it to spy a message from Gemma saying she wouldn’t be able to come for dinner after all as his niece had gotten her jabs that morning and was finally sleeping. 

Well, this afternoon and evening weren’t going as he had planned. Not at all. 

“Miss K!” A voice grew closer to them, and Rachel paused before turning. 

Harry spotted the beginning of a smile on her face, but she quickly schooled it into a more inquiring expression. “Yes, Josiah?” 

He threw his muddy arms around her, “Thank you for coming.” With the words and hug complete, the boy turned and immediately scampered away. 

Rachel’s face was shining with a mixture of pleasure and tears. She blinked, then focused on Harry. “Definitely not a wasted trip. It was a treat to meet you, Harry, despite the circumstances. Thanks for joining me at the game.” 

No, no, no. She wasn’t getting away that easily. 

“The pleasure was all mine, Rachel.” 

Hearing his voice say her name tripled the tingles she felt as a result of Josiah’s actions towards her. Tonight she would have to devote two pages to this single day in her journal. Maybe three pages. 

As she walked back towards the school, she was surprised to find Harry pushing the bicycle next to her once more. Well, it was a free country. He hadn’t harmed her, and he was not a threat of any sort, so she allowed it. 

“Your fit got dirty,” Harry pointed out. 

“Small price to pay. It will wash out.” 

As they returned to the footpath next to her, pushing the bicycle with its sad baguettes still in the basket, Rachel paused. “You’re still here.” 

“Oh. Uh…” Stumped, Harry couldn’t articulate what he was thinking. Finally, he simply allowed the words to flow slowly from his mouth as he considered what he wanted, “I, uh, wondered if…you see, my sister was supposed to bring my, uh, niece, for, you know, dinner tonight. Um, I had planned to make, uh, homemade pasta and sauce for them. Hence the, uh…” His gesture encompassed the baguettes. “How would you, uh, feel about, um, joining me?” 

Gulping, Rachel could not believe what she was hearing. Her? Going to the actual house of Harry? Surely he misspoke. 

“You mean, you’d like to take me out to dinner?” 

He pulled on his lip with his free hand. “Not exactly, uh, cause that would, um, make people, like, um, speculate. But I am planning to, uh, you know, cook tonight. From my, uh, garden.”

Sharply, Rachel glanced at him. Was he some sort of pervert? Wouldn’t she have heard by now if he were a freak who invited women to his home and then skinned them alive or something? Then again, what did she have to lose other than her life? 

“Sure,” she smiled. A banner day, for sure. Not only had she made progress with Josiah, which had been her primary goal – well, she also seemed to have made progress with another guy after a long, dry spell. 

Harry moved the baguettes to his arms, abandoning the rental bike so that he could walk alongside this charming woman. This night would be just as awesome as if it had gone as planned. Maybe even better? 

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

Seems very nastya coded to me, ngl

hidden messages in electronic boards

[hungrydogs-if]

finally went and finished the two crew npc's that are missing from the character page (while falling asleep at my desk at work ugh i hate desk work damn these knees bro) and here they are before i get home to make desktop edits.

Nur al-Zaidi

A cis woman in her late twenties who stands at a proud 5 foot 4. Her skin is dark sepia with olive and golden undertones, and always glowing thanks to a rigid skincare routine. Her eyes are slightly downturned, a deep amber in color. Her hair is thick and dark, long enough to reach past her hips when not in her usual loosely braided style.

No scars, and her only tattoo is her brother's name written on her right wrist. Always seen wearing a nazar necklace, but no other notable details are known. She might look small but she's quite compact and athletic, and is well-versed in martial arts. Her name is still a big thing in the local kickboxing community, even if she's banned from tournaments. 

Her birthday is celebrated on the 28th of August, signing her as a Virgo. Her alignment is chaotic neutral and her MBTI is ISTJ-A.

Likes: Spreadsheets, the smell of the desert, and spa days.

Dislikes: Spontaneous decisions, heart over logic, corporate coffee shops.

Basir al-Zaidi / "Baz"

A cis man in his mid-twenties who slouches at a 5 foot 8. His skin is a dark sepia with golden and olive undertones, and there are some pockmarks smattered his cheeks. His eyes are slightly downturned, and light brown in color. His hair is dark and wavy, reaching to about his shoulders when not kept in a loose bun. Always keeps some hairs loose by his forehead to achieve a more messy look. 

Has a tattoo of his sister's name on his left wrist, and sports a pretty notable strip of burn scars across his right leg reaching just up over the hip bone. Always wears a nazar bracelet, and two identical silver rings on either index finger. Very averagely built in every way, but tries to do strength training. Usually seen with a bright smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.

His birthday is on the 20th of June, making him a Gemini in sign. His alignment is chaotic good, and has the MBTI of ENFP-A.

Likes: Crashing parties, math, racing dune buggies.

Dislikes: Pessimistic people, being told to shut up, having a bad time.

[noirsariel]

The Examination

A drabble about IkePri Oliver and his work.

The slide locks into place and the examination begins.

Oliver's eye combs over the sample before him. A patient arrived at a clinic in Rhodolite with an inflamed wound. The doctor had taken a sample and sent it over to be identified to ensure proper treatment, but also to track if this sort of infection was becoming too common in Rhodolite and warranted further attention.

He knew his job - identify, compare, advise treatment based off of previous data. At no point would Oliver see this patient, he wouldn't even know his name in an ideal situation. He was just another patient who needed help. If all was well, he'd hear from the doctor soon enough.

"Thank you," they would say, "that was it. The patient is well again." Those were good cases. Not every case was this fortunate.

Underneath the microscope's lens, he could see the skin cells and some muscle. He moves the glass slide along. What's not supposed to be here? What was causing the patient distress?

That was the joy of his work, it was the epitome of classification, of finding order in an otherwise chaotic world. True, not every disease was one that he could help with, there were things too small, too intricate for his lab to detect, but the things he found had names. They had shapes. They had expected behavior. He just had to find it and name it.

In between skin cells, he sees his target. A bullet like shape that shouldn't be there. He rotates the lens to look closer. There are hair-like proteins protruding from the bacteria, entangling itself within the open wound. He writes down his observation and backs off to grab one of his books.

These books were proof of that order. Everything he saw was catalogued there along with quick notes of what these pathogens looked like, what did he know they could cause, what could cure them.

However, there was the troubling part of his work - the cures. What worked yesterday may fail the next day and he has to give a pithy answer to a doctor. "It seems it no longer responds to penicillin - have you tried ceftazidime?" He would have to say. To be outwitted by something so small that it was only visible on these lenses was humbling.

What was on his slide was likely Pseudomonas aeruginosa. It wasn't strange to find it in a wound, but looking at his notes, the events were not clustered enough to warrant any alarm. He returned to his notes. A shot of antibiotics ought to do it and the man should be well.

He takes his notes and tears them out of the notebook. They are placed in an envelope. Tomorrow, a courier will come around and the doctor will receive the results of the test. However, for now, Oliver can take the slide and move it to the side.

He takes a new slide and slides it into place and the process begins anew.

[dwightschrute11]

Edit (2 months later) I’m going to revamp this character sheet soon (I absouletly despise it). Don’t trust it 🫵😭

Character Sheet - Calypso

General Information

Full name: Calypso Salutations

Nicknames: Cal, Callie, The new fifth year 

Pronouns: She/her

Date of Birth: May 1st, 1875

Zodiac Sign: Taurus 

Personality Type: ENFP-T

Alignment: chaotic good

Nationality: British 

House: Ravenclaw

Wand: Dragon Heartstring, oak wood, slightly springy

Patronus: Nebelung cat (curiosity and kindness)

Boggart: her fathers bloated corpse shameful of Calypso

Amortentia: fresh rain, the black lake, earthy dirt, and apples

Physical Appearance 

Hair color and style: blondish white, most often seen down in loose curls. 

Eye color: Fern green 

Skin tone: almond with warm undertones and complexion 

Height: 5’7

Weight: 131 pounds 

Clothing style: loose, almost never wears her vest over her blouse; prefers longish skirts and her blouse sleeves pushed up, and usually is either wearing Mary Jane’s or traveling boots

Accessories: a locket given to her by her father before he passed

Details: freckles along her cheek bones and nose, as well as her upper arms and shoulders. Has an ancient magic scar along her right cheek extending slightly into the upper part of her neck. 

Personality 

Positive traits: reliable, witty, strong, helpful, relatively friendly, caring, loyal, open minded, determined 

Negative Traits: stubborn, competitive, reserved,can be sarcastic, secretive (most of the time), reckless

Strengths: strong in the face of danger and would sacrifice herself for others (which can sometimes be a bad thing), always looking to help others

Weaknesses: bottles up emotions and struggles letting people in to her real self (including her inner demons), has anxiety, nearing the end of fifth year she commonly feels numb or overwhelmed

Likes: flying / quidditch, relaxing near the lake, gardening, exploring, reading, watching performances 

Dislikes: condescending or overly cocky people, those who hurt her loved ones, dugbogs, pumpkin juice, 

Fears: fear of abandonment, not being good enough, her being the cause of pain 

Goals: to be free, to find true happiness, to cure Anne, to see her mother smile

Backstory

Calypso was born in a small cottage in London, Cornwall to Clementine and Oliver Salutations, who were both muggles—but her father was a man who always believed in some sort of magic, if in the trees or in a faraway land, if a presence in every nook and cranny or even just an idea. Her mother, a woman bound by rules who wasn’t the type to dream, always brushed away her husband’s ideas, and tended to get mad when ever he spouted those ideas to Cal. Cal herself wasn’t the most certain, but as a child, she was in a state of content and happiness as long as she was with her father—but tragedy struck the Salutations home when her father mysteriously drowned in the ocean, his bloated body found by young Calypso a day after his disappearance. Traumatized and heartbroken, Calypso lost that nostalgic feeling of happiness quickly, the wound deepening even more when her mother began to develop Alzheimer’s. she forgot Calypsos face, her smile, her hand—she was a husk of her former self, leaving Calypso to take care of her for many years. She received the basic school learning as a child, but a year after her father died, they ran out of money to continue affording school. She taught herself using the books she had at home and those she borrowed, and often ridiculed herself  in the mirror. She barely ate, still haunted by her mother’s screams and father’s bloated body, and became bony as the years went on. It was only when she got her Hogwarts acceptance later that, for once, she felt hopeful, free—excited. She asked an old family friends to take care of her mother before being whisked  off to Hogwarts by Professor Fig..blissfully unaware of the powerful tendrils of ancient magic running through her blood. 

Relationships

Love interest: (I don’t know yet 😭) 

Good friends: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Natsai Onai, Poppy sweeting, Samantha Dale, Garreth Weasley , Imelda Reyes 

People she dislikes: Leander Prewett, Nerida Roberts, Grace Pinch-Smedley

Pets: Highwing, vivarium creatures, one cat (later) 

Thanks to @masqueradereveler21 for letting me use the questions they used for their own character sheet!

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

Oh no i have a feeling i did that already too, thinking they were weird sex bots- oh noooo-

i recently found out my blog is being recommended to follow during new user registration and what i thought were bots were literally all minutes-old users

[chaoticmannamedoliver]

Look at themmm♡

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