#7/8-Hose

[mo-ok]

top 10 sentai blacks yes its important that Junichi Haruta is here twice

[acronym49]

The many faces of Sun~!

1: biblically accurate (simplified)

2: Rubber-hose inspired

3: Steven Universe vibes

4: oh he's a lil menacing actually! (Moon is not the only goblin in this house)

5: Long Nose Bros (spear nose club for life)

6: minimalism/he Knows

7: Sharp! Pointy! A little uncanny but well meaning

8: Korosensei!!!?

9: uncanny valley, with skeletons in the closet ♡

10: fully biblically (game) accurate! The trick is making the lines a bit geometric

11: he cat now o my go

12: worn and broken, but also loved

13: an actual sun! Everything is irradiated! Also celestial/deity in nature

14: human-like expressions (his face plate got upgraded!)

15: pointy and heavily stylized- also a member of the Long Nose Bros!

16: So many rays. He's a little sunflower now

17: Fully Baby-Proofed rip

18: he Knows and he is Tired/ childcare is to much for only one bot someone help this man

19: He is Loved

20: He is Feral and you’re going to need a Series of Rabies Vaccinations because he will Bite

[aestas---estas]

Working hands

MDNI 18+ | Series Masterlist | Previous | Next | Read on AO3 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~4,6k words | fem!reader, assistant!reader, reader described as shorter than Simon, suspend your disbelief for how long it is inbetween missions, basically all fluff | divider by @cafekitsune

It's early Saturday morning and you get woken up by a strong fist incessantly knocking on your front door. It's pointed and regular, military in its consistency. While Price knows where you live — it's on your paperwork after all — and you have no doubt in your mind that both Johnny and Kyle could've easily found out, you know in your bones that it's Simon.

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you quickly find a pair of sweatpants to throw on; it would probably be in bad form to open the door in only a washed-out shirt and underwear. You stop in front of the bathroom mirror to quickly fix your bed hair as much as possible, splashing some cold water on your face in an attempt to look more awake than you feel. Simon’s still knocking intermittently and you can practically hear the irritation he’s starting to feel through the door — the man does not like to be ignored or left to wait.

“Good morning,” you say as you finally fling your door open, annoyance at having been so rudely interrupted clear in your voice despite the amicable words. He’s standing with his fist raised, ready to knock once more, a tool kit gripped in his other hand and you eye it curiously. “What-?”

You don’t really know how to end the sentence — what is he doing here? What’s with the tool kit? What makes him think he can wake you at 7:30 in the morning on your day off? — but you’re cut off before you manage to get another word past your lips, as he’s already made his way into your flat and toward the bathroom.

In confusion you close the front door and follow behind, your bare feet padding against the cool wooden floor, making you wish — not for the first time — that your landlord allowed heated floors. Simon’s courteous enough to have already toed off his boots by your shoe rack, so at least you don’t have to clean up dirt and grime, but the barging his way inside your space only worked to further annoy and confuse you.

“Simon, it’s not even 8,” you say as you lean against the doorframe of your bathroom, watching as he gets down on his knees in front of the broken washing machine you still hadn’t had a chance to look at. The annoyance seeps out of you as you remember the conversation you had that Monday; about how you wanted to return his jacket washed, but hadn’t been able to do your laundry. It’s a thoughtful gesture, one you can’t help but smile in appreciation at.

“I’m an early riser,” is all Simon says in return, not even glancing your way. He’s already busy with turning the machine on and off, looking at all the hoses and pipes, to try and discern what the issue might be.

For a moment, you just stay there, watching him quietly. He’s not wearing the skull mask or printed balaclava that had become synonymous with his alias, but rather a more simple black surgical mask. You don’t really know what you expected Simon to look like; you knew he was blonde, something Johnny had once shared with you to tease his Lieutenant, yet the sight of the surprisingly well groomed tresses on his head make something inside of you stir. His hair is just long enough for you to be able to card your fingers through it, and his left eyebrow is cleaved in half from a faded scar. You can’t see his jaw or chin properly, and the only time you remember him ever lifting his mask in your presence was to drink his beer in the pub all those weeks ago before he walked you home. You’d been drunk back then, hadn’t had the sense of mind to memorise his visage, and you mentally kick yourself about it now.

“It’s the water,” you supply, wanting to be helpful and hopefully distract yourself from thoughts of how it would feel to pet his hair and trace his scars, and Simon turns his head to glance at you. “It doesn’t drain properly, overflows about half the time too.”

Simon nods before turning back to the washing machine, pulling it away from the wall with little effort. “Sounds like the hose, or maybe the drainpipe. Could also be the lint trap. If there is one.” He’s mumbling more to himself than to you at this point, craning his neck to look at the backside of the machine all while nodding or shaking his head, making mental notes of possible solutions.

“Might be a while, love. Why don’t you go make us some tea?” It’s the out you didn’t know you wanted, but the second the suggestion leaves Simon’s lips you pounce on it, leaving the bathroom for the kitchen with no words or fuss.

You make two cups of some berry blend one of your friends got you as a birthday present — the mugs are white, bland, a little too boring for your liking, but they get the job done. And besides, you have more important things to spend your money on than crockery.

When you return to the bathroom, two steaming mugs in hand, you can’t help but stare at Simon for a moment before making yourself known. While the hoodie he’s wearing doesn’t provide you with much, his jeans are tight fitting around those muscular thighs of his, especially with the way he keeps crouching and kneeling. God, he’s got an ass too. The thought makes heat race to your face and you pull your eyes away from the enticing view of his rear.

“One cup for you,” you say, placing the tea down on top of the washing machine for whenever he feels like taking a sip. He sends you an appreciative look before focusing back on the task at hand; you’re both relieved and disappointed that he didn’t remove the face mask to have a taste of the drink right then and there. But then again, if he did, you’re more than sure that his uncovered visage would haunt your dreams in the best way possible.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” you say when he makes no move to speak again. 

It’s odd having Simon in your space like this. Sure, he spent the night on the couch that night after the pub. But you had been drunk then, had thought of nothing but the soft embrace of your bed that awaited you. Now you’re both sober, both clear minded and both all too aware of whatever it is that’s been growing between the two of you. 

Usually on your days off you would sleep in, would take a long shower so hot the fog on the mirror wouldn’t disappear for over an hour afterwards, would even make a proper breakfast if you had the energy for it. But Simon was currently occupying your bathroom, so a shower was out of the question, and while a short nap as he worked didn’t sound so bad it felt almost rude to go back to sleep as long as he was still there. He was doing something sweet for you; fixing something you hadn’t had the time or money to fix yet yourself.

So instead of your usual routine, you plant yourself under a blanket on the sofa with a new book you’d been meaning to read but haven’t had the chance to just yet and turn on some music. You can hear Simon in the bathroom, the clattering of tools and humming of the washing machine as he starts and stops new cycles every so often. The whole thing feels almost domestic, and it tugs on your heart in a way you don’t want to look too deep into.

---

“Can I ask you something?” you question and Simon grunts in that affirmative way he always does when you knock on his office door in the mornings. He had felt you coming back into the bathroom five minutes ago, leaning against the door frame, watching him with inquisitive eyes; but he had kept his attention on the washing machine. “Why do you wear that mask?”

If you hadn’t been studying him so intensely, you might’ve not noticed the way his shoulders and back tensed for half a second; it’s gone before you even have a chance to ponder about his reaction.

“Anonymity,” he answers at length, but you can tell there is more to it. Most of the other operators don't wear facial coverings — and if they do, it’s only while in active combat.

You understood wanting to keep his identity anonymous in the field, not letting the enemies know his name or face, it was dangerous work what he did after all, yet you couldn’t help but press. “Everyone on base already knows your name. And besides, there’s no one around but me right now.” Who are you hiding from? is what goes unasked, but the question still makes the air around you both feel heavy.

“They know what I want them to know,” he supplies, as if that would be a satisfactory answer. And it is, you suppose, at least somewhat. It doesn’t answer why exactly he keeps himself closed off, why no one — not even the men he fights beside — knows what he looks like. But it does tell you that he’s deeply paranoid and near obsessive with personal security. It tells you that he’s willing to show more of himself to the few he deems worthy; god, you want to be worthy.

“When’s the last time you took it off?” It’s a gamble of a question, but you know if Simon wants to leave the conversation he’ll let you know it in no uncertain terms.

“Last night.” You roll your eyes at that, because of course he doesn’t sleep with a stupid balaclava or face mask — maybe in the field, but you don’t know what goes on during their missions if it’s not in the reports.

“I meant with someone else in the room, Simon,” you tell him and cross your arms over your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments, seconds stretching into minutes as Simon gives no indication of giving you a reply. Just as you let out a sigh, ready to give up on the conversation and walk back to your living room, he speaks. “It’s been… a while. Years.”

You don’t feel sorry for him, you have a feeling Simon wouldn't take kindly to pity, but empathy courses through your veins at the pain evident in his voice. He puts down the tool in his hand, turning his head just enough to make you appear in his vision, but makes no move to stand up. You realise he’s studying you, your reactions, your body language, every micro expression you don’t have the education to hide like he does.

“That sounds lonely,” you eventually say, taking the few steps from the doorway to where he’s kneeling beside the washing machine, lowering yourself until you’re eye-to-eye. “If you ever…” you hesitate for a second, but the fact that Simon has yet to end the conversation makes you power through. “I’ll be here, if you ever want to show someone.”

It’s not a demand or a manipulative tactic to get him to feel secure before ripping the rug out from under him; you genuinely want to be there for him, face or no face, want him to not go through his life with that crushing loneliness that’s been making it hard to breathe freely for years. Your eyes shine with open honesty and it’s almost too much for Simon to bear. He nearly tells you everything then; about his past, his family, Roba, everything. But you seem so innocent, untouched by the cruel reality of the world. And although he’s destroyed more uncorrupted and pure lives than yours, he wants you to keep living in the bubble of life is worth living for as long as possible.

“It’s not pretty,” is what he says instead. It — his life, him. A sad smile passes your lips as you nod your understanding.

“I’ll be here,” you repeat, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before standing and leaving him alone in the bathroom to work.

Simon stays there for another half hour before packing everything up and making his way towards the door. Truth be told he had figured out the issue after only ten minutes, had fixed the problem — a clog in the drain pipe — as slow as possible just to be in your presence for a few minutes longer. He knew he had disrupted your morning, had woken you up too early on your day off just to selfishly indulge his own need for your warmth, and now you were offering him unadulterated support without demanding anything in return. He didn’t deserve your kindness, had used your predicament to satisfy his own wants. It made him feel low, dirty, unworthy. 

“It works now,” Simon tells you as he walks past your spot on the couch, heading towards the front door without a second glance back.

Quickly you scramble from the couch and follow behind him, the blanket once more wrapped around your form. “Thank you,” you say, your eyes tracking his movements as he pulls on his jacket. “I’ll get your jacket back as soon as it’s washed.”

Simon shakes his head. “Told you, love, keep it.” There it is again; love. Before that weekend he had never called you that, and in the moment you had assumed the nickname had slipped from his lips the same way you had called him baby — simply to sell the illusion of a relationship so the creepy guy at the club would leave you alone. But now you couldn’t be so sure.

“At least let me buy you lunch or something as a thank you,” you insist, catching him by the wrist as he reaches for the door handle, grasping at straws for anything that would allow him to stay in your life. You had always done a good job at keeping your private and professional lives separate; but that was before Simon.

Simon’s eyes flicker down to where your fingers envelop his wrist, but he does not shift out of your grasp nor tell you to let go; so you don’t. “It doesn’t have to mean anything other than thanks,” you say, hoping the reassurance will help him decide.

Something indescribable passes through his eyes before he gives a firm nod. “I’m not much of a restaurant guy, but… a lunch sounds nice.”

“Great!” You beam, something akin to butterflies fluttering around inside your chest. “We can order in if that makes you more comfortable.”

Simon nods and it feels like he wants to say something, but no words leave his lips before he’s out the door.

---

As the hours of the day tick by, you find yourself glancing over to the hook where Simon’s jacket hangs. He said you could keep it, that it looks better on you. It feels wrong both to keep it — like you're owed something when you're not — and to give it back — like you don't appreciate his gesture of friendship.

It's a tightrope, one you can't navigate properly, one that wobbles and every step threatens to topple you over. It's anxiety inducing yet the most excited you've been in a while.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you send him a text.

Hope I didn’t scare you away with the invite to lunch.

You chew nervously on your bottom lip, already dreading his reply, but before your inevitable anxiety can spin out of control, your phone buzzes in your hand and the screen lights up with a new message.

You have plans tomorrow?

You don’t, actually, and tell him as much. It’s a few, short back and forths after that — Simon is concise even in text — but you have an official game plan that involves takeaway from the Indian place down the street and Simon showing up at your place around noon.

---

Simon had left the ordering up to you, having no idea what was good at the chosen restaurant — but he trusted you to guide him. He shows up just as you hang up on the Indian place, a can of WD-40 in hand, and you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Heard the god awful squeaking of the hinges on your bathroom door yesterday,” he explains with a shrug before making his way over to it without invitation.

You follow behind with a soft smile on your face, watching with more fascination than really necessary as he sprays the hinges and moves the door back and forth a few times until satisfied.

“Thank you. You didn't have to,” you say, giving his bicep a quick squeeze in gratitude. You'd lived with those squeaking hinges for months now, it had annoyed you in the beginning but it quickly fell into the background and it just became a noise you now ignored. 

“The food should be here in fifteen minutes,” you add.

“Alright.” Simon gives you a short nod, not quite meeting your eyes. If you hadn't known him, you would've thought he was uncomfortable or seeking an escape — but you did know him, knew that he would just up and leave if that was his prerogative. But he was here. He brought lubricant for your door without prompting. He entrusted you to pick the restaurant and the food. 

“Do you wanna sit?” you ask, gesturing to the couch; a fluffy blanket was draped over one of the armrests, embarrassing really how many times you folded the damn thing while cleaning up to make everything look presentable.

You were nervous, buzzing with both excitement and anxiety. You had hung out with Simon one-on-one before, a few times where he had walked you home from the pub, that time you called him after being ditched by your friends at the club, every single morning when you brought him a cup of tea in the office, and just yesterday when he had showed up unannounced to play handyman. But it had never been anything preplanned, you had never had time to rethink your decor and spend hours meticulously vacuuming and dusting and rearranging everything. And the realisation from the day before, about how kind and strong and capable and downright attractive he was, did not help.

You knew you wanted this to be a date, but there had been no clear confirmation from either side whether it was or wasn’t. Maybe he just saw this as lunch between co-workers, or as some sort of indebted meal because he fixed a problem that was entirely yours to sort.

It comes as no surprise when Simon spreads his legs wide on the couch when taking a seat, one arm on the armrest, the other slung lazily across the back. You knew if you sat down next to him, his knee would press against yours and his hand would be dangerously close to falling around your shoulders.

It was an easy choice, really, to plop yourself down beside him.

The conversation flowed easily, one topic blended into the next, Simon relaxed fully in his seat and you found yourself smiling enough to make your cheeks ache. It wasn’t until after you had thanked the delivery driver for the food and was starting to unload the various dishes you had ordered onto the coffee table, that his previous visible trepidation came back.

“I may have gone a little overboard,” you explain nervously, eyes downcast as you organise and open the boxes of food. They smelled delicious, and steam was rising from all of them; it nearly made your mouth water. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a little of everything.”

It’s good to have left-overs, your brain chimed in in defence of your own actions.

“‘S not that,” Simon replies, reaching for one of the dishes. You study his movements from the corner of your eye and as he stops his hand mid-air to his face you realise what the problem is — the mask.

“I can… turn around or something,” you supply, hoping to be helpful, to ease his nerves. But Simon just shakes his head and pulls the band away from behind his ear, letting the mask dangle for just a moment before unhooking the other side too.

You try not to stare — it’s obviously a big step, something significant that he chose to do with you — but it’s hard to tear your eyes away when the image in your head of what he looked like was actively being shattered and reformed.

There’s a raised, jagged line across his right cheek, a bump that makes his nose just a little crooked from where it hadn’t set properly after being broken, another smaller scar down the left side of his jaw. But the one mark that rocks you the most is the Glasgow smile. It’s only one side, but it’s clear as day that it wasn’t just someone getting a little too close with a knife in the field; it’s meticulous, sharp, someone with a steady hand had held his face still enough to carve it slowly. Not a battlescar, but rather one from torture.

You shake your head slightly, forcing yourself out of the spiral you’re otherwise likely to go down, and grab one of the boxes at random. “Let’s eat.” You hope your voice doesn’t shake, but when Simon raises an eyebrow you know you’ve failed.

“It’s okay to say it. It’s ugly. Told you it was.” He doesn’t sound mad about it, more exhaustedly used to it. Like it was an inevitability you would find him unattractive once he showed you everything.

As if instinctual, your hand shoots out to cup his knee. You can’t give him reassuring words, because the scars are awful, and you know Simon would see right through you if you try to lie and say you barely noticed. But they don’t take away from his attractiveness; rather, they make you sad at everything he’s gone through and angry at every person that’s inflicted pain upon him and forced him into the hard shell he now hides behind.

For a split second, Simon freezes, the unexpected touch sending adrenaline coursing through his veins as his body gets ready for a fight that never comes. He’s unaccustomed to friendly and harmless touching, at least the kind that lingers. The occasional congratulatory pat on his shoulder from his captain and teammates, but never one from someone like you.

“Let’s eat,” you repeat, giving his knee a quick squeeze before resituating yourself on the couch and digging into your food.

---

It becomes a form of routine after that; Simon showing up at your place the weekends he has off. More often than not he’s got a toolbox in hand, fixing small things around your flat that he grumbles that your lazy landlord should’ve already fixed ages ago. You always say it’s not his job, that you’re used to the leaky tap and squeaking hinges and uneven shelves, and then thank him with the offer of lunch, trying a new restaurant every week; he seems particularly fond of the various noodle dishes they provide so you order those more than anything else.

Eventually he starts placing the black KN95 on your entryway table when the front door closes behind him. You never mention it, and neither does Simon. And even when there’s nothing left to fix (apart from completely ripping the floorboards up and installing heating, but you vehemently refuse to let him do that in fear of being kicked out), he still shows up for lunch and just a conversation. Most of the time he lets you ramble on about whatever you please, chiming in with hums of acknowledgements and one-worded replies — if he was being honest with himself he could listen to you talk for hours and be satiated.

You kiss his cheek goodbye every time before he shrouds his features again with the mask; your lips are soft and reverent, right over the scar that gives him a perpetually lopsided smile. It takes Simon four goodbyes to let his hands rest, warm and heavy with intent, on your waist, and it makes butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

It’s a simple gesture, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also a big step. While you haven’t shied away from physical intimacy — a hand squeeze here, a bumping of shoulders there, all the cheek kisses — it was the first time Simon allowed himself to reciprocate.

It takes him two more goodbyes to finally angle his face enough to let your kiss catch the corner of his lips.

“Sorry,” you mumble and try to take a step back, but Simon’s grip tightens and keeps you firmly in place.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

Oh.

Oh.

Carefully you raise your arms to wrap around his neck, going slow enough that even just a twitch from Simon would stop you in your tracks. But he stays still as a statue, eyes flickering between yours before settling at your lips.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails gently scratching his scalp.

“More than,” Simon replies, his breath washing over your face as he dips down, letting his lips hover over yours, his every exhale intermingling with yours.

You press yourself closer and in turn his hands slide from your sides and around your back, holding you in place firmly against him, his touch leaving a scorching trail on your skin despite the fabric that separates you.

You don’t know who moves first, who closes the small distance between you, but suddenly his lips are on yours and the butterflies in your stomach metamorphosize into fireworks and you can feel your heart race against your ribcage. His lips are warm, softer than you'd imagined, and you can still taste the cigarette he smoked before entering the building. Your fingers tug gently at his curls, angling his face to your liking so you can easier slot your lips over his.

A broken moan leaves your throat as Simon’s tongue finds yours and it’s all he can do to not push you up against the wall and fuck you right then and there. God knows he’s fantasised about it enough, fisted his cock to mental images of how you’d sound as he punched the air out of you with every thrust, how you’d look with his cum dripping down your thighs, how your eyes would roll to the back of your skull as he wrings out another orgasm from your already spent body. But he knows that’s not the way to go about this, not if he wants to keep you.

He licks into your mouth, exploring and teasing all at once, indulging in the sounds you let slip from your lips. His hands twitch, eager to wander over your body, but settles on curling his fingers in your shirt, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you trying to kill me?” Simon rasps when you eventually break to catch your breaths and your teeth nip at his lower lip.

“No,” you hum and trail a hand down his face and neck, smoothing your thumb over every risen scar in a show of unadulterated affection that makes him preen under your touch. “Quite like you alive. Like you a lot actually.”

Simon surges forward again, captures your lips in another bruising kiss because, fuck, if that doesn’t make his heart soar.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, how this will affect both his and your work, neither of you do. But he knows he’d rather be right here, with you in his arms, kissing you senseless, than anywhere else in the world.

--- CoD Masterlist

[watercolourcritters]

i made a really good zine today

[ID: Five images showing a folded paper zine made of collaged animal photos and text. It has eight pages total.

Page 1 - the title page, labelled "danger noodles: a helpful guide", with a close up photo of a snake with it's tongue sticking out.

Page 2 - a green snake with text reading "This is a danger noodle. He is a long boy."

3 - a hose lying among objects, reading "This is not a danger noodle. It is a trick."

4 - An elk inside an office building. Text reads "This is not a danger noodle either. He is an accountant."

5 - a snake lying among leaves. Text reads "This is a camouflaged danger noodle!"

6 - A photo of an elephant. Text reads "Come on Steve, we know you're not a danger noodle!"

7 - A snake with spiky scales, text reading "This is a spiky danger noodle!"

8 - Close up of snake scales, that are from the same snake as the first page. Text reads "scales, as a treat." The handle/signature is @ watercolourcritters.

End ID.]

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 6 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

I think this might actually be my favorite Agatha, for real? Like, the ring binder. The pOUTING. She's SO serious. I want to talk to her in a baby voice, just like, to be supportive of her little things.

And the Bohner family reunion shirt, of course. the gray socks, the garden hose sprayer as a gun. To use tumblr lingo, that's the saddest meow meow of a woman I've ever seen, and I'm obsessed with her.

GAY ON GAY VIOLENCE

joe was holding for dear life, but he didn't laugh. because he's a professional.

billy putting all the hours he spent on tvtropes dot com to good use

he's always a little smug, like he thinks he's in control, that he knows better. when he actually doesn't know shit! that's the whole attitude he brought to the Road.

and that's detective agnes o'connor to you, you little punk.

the click pen gag destroys me. this is 5 minutes of kathryn and joe being silly and, look, does it further the plot? no. am I having fun? sure am! so who's to say it's wasted time?

and the way she looks so small and lost when reality slips in for a moment, she is so precious to me.

look at the hand going in witchy position, the real agatha fighting to regain control. what a great acting choice.

for context he spent all of five minutes in the closet before bursting out in a a cloud of nail polish fumes. and it still was five minutes too many

the draMATIC zoOM IN

you thought quicksand would be enough to kill thee agatha harkness?? you're gonna need to put some more effort to it, some flair! and what's more, she's gonna complain about it the whooooole time

fare thee well swooshy coat

I just realized all the little innocent questions billy keeps peppering agatha with are exactly because he can't read her mind, so he's trying to get information for the Road on the down low

you guys keep accidentally shaping reality. it's a fairly big tell.

she tries to joke as usual, but when billy doesn't respond she sighs and tries to be soft and thoughtful. she's not AT ALL comfortable opening up so it's laced with manipulation, but hey, she tries

goddamnit she's crying again. I told you she loves billy for being billy, and not just as a nicky stand-in. this is the brilliant little boy who could always see right through her, and agatha has loved him since the day he was born.

hey there kiddo. so you've killed a few witches, happens to the best of us. look at me, killing witches never opened a gaping black chasm in my soul or anything. you're going to be fine.

billy is so not amused

just like with wanda, there's so much there. sympathy, thirst for power, genuine interest in cool witchcraft, self preservation, fear, desire. she wants to connect, she wants to squash him like a bug, she wants to steal his powers and run, she wants to MOTHER him

and in all this whirlwind of emotions, mothering wins out. and it's projecting and it's selfish, she's telling him what she wishes her own mother would have told her.

she is uplifting billy and giving him a pep talk, but she's also giving herself a pep talk. she's proudly claiming her status as a survivor, while also trying to justify - to herself and to billy - all she atrocities she's committed. like I said, there's always so much there. at least 90% of her is purely selfish, and then there's a luminous little corner of her soul that is capable of so much love.

and at the end of a speech that started calculated and became all passion, she reclaims her identity as a witch, despite all the difficult history there. her mother passed on overwhelming internalized hatred and fear of witchfolk and - inevitably, some serious self-hatred. Her sense of identity and belonging is all fucked up, she must have been trying to negotiate and come to terms with it since she was a child.

and of course, being agatha, she hates herself while still believing she's the greatest witch that ever lived.

oooh, who's an edgy boy! I've been thinking about billy's defense mechanisms too, he usually goes for the innocent teen persona (a bit like agatha chooses to play cheesy characters) but he gets so very edgy and dramatic when upset. I think deep down he's more proud and self-involved that he'd be comfortable admitting, and why wouldn't he? he's so powerful. he can read everyone around him like an open book, a part of him genuinely thinks he's figured it all out. he doesn't like being told that he's wrong because ultimately he's TERRIFIED of being wrong and making a mess of things like agatha or wanda.

and he's carrying so much destructive potential that his growing pains, the mistakes that every young person ought to make, could have catastrophic consequences. that's why he so badly needs agatha's guidance, she's the only one who could possibly understand all that. if, you know, she could only work through her own shit first.

lmao that was such an elaborate (and cruel) way to land a joke. and she KNOWS tommy's name, she's just being a bitch

mustache!

billy getting in her face to yell at her reminds me of when she's confronted by jen in the finale, she tries to joke and deflect until jen no longer allows it. she is so afraid of facing her own responsibilities.

and she gets serious just for a moment, just long enough to betray how much billy's rejection actually hurts her. and she didn't expect anything else, so she keeps rejecting people first only to be heartbroken again when they do too. such a vicious cycle.

and the walls are up again.

and she swaggers off, the wretched muddy little creature. she looks almost cool.

next up:

yeah, it's lilia's episode.

goddammit.

[secretly-from-the80s]

My outsiders head cannons because idk im bored (warning I’ll prolly misspell things!)

Darry:

1: When he was younger he used to play in the mud with Pony and soda and they would go back into the house and their mom would kick them out and would have to spray them down with a hose

2: (after the book) Darry and pony had gotten into a argument like brothers do and Darry Couldng handle it anymore and broke down in tears in front of both his brothers.

3: he has nightmares sometimes and they cause him to wake up in a panic and he would always have to check up on pony and soda to make sure they were okay

4: idk why some people like make him seem like a Facebook mom who likes minion memes and dad jokes. HES BARELY 20 YEARS OLD. He would probably say the most unfiltered ass shit in a group chat 😭

5: he gets those random urges to like kick or playfully hit pony or soda (I do that 😣)

6: ate rotten food once and work and got sick and his boss had to drive the boy home since he was so sick

7: will probably work himself till he makes himself sick like he Wont stop himself till someone stops him

8: hates seeming like a parent more then a older brother sometimes when the boys need reminders that Darry is still their brother Darry will start a game of tag and all the brothers will run around the house. (When they did that when their parents were alive they knocked down a special vase and they all got whooped)

9 : likes cats. He has a stray cat at work that he shares his lunch with he named it “kitty cat” sooooo creative righttt

10: doesn’t like ham (idk that just randomly appeared in my mind)

Extra: used to bite as a child and gags when those chunks of food in the sink hits his hands

Soda

1: stinks like car oil and pony will not allow him to get into the bed till he showers

2: likes grilled cheeses (me too bro)

3: he once caught Darry having a panic attack and didn’t really know what to do since he’s never really saw his brother like Cry like that so he was awkwardly comforting him😭

4: makes Radom sounds like with his mouth and it’s makes the others tweak

5: gets dates mixed up really easily

6: after Darry slapped pony, soda in a fit of like idk rage punched Darry square in the face.

7: WILL forget to clean under his fingernails.

8: Darry ate his food once and soda ignored him for the rest of the night. Anytime Darry Tried to talk to him soda would give him a snooty face and would cross his arms and say “mhmp”

9: cries when he watches dog movies (like all dogs go to heaven or a dogs purpose or a dogs way home)

10: has the most NASTIEST converse and refuses to clean them

Ponyboy

1: can only cook eggs he cannot cook anything else 😭

2: loves chocolate milk (I think that’s in the book)

3: tried Darry’s coffee once and almost threw up since it was so bitter

4: likes to race Darry since they were both in sports that involved a lot of running

5: stole one of Darry’s old sweatshirts and REFUSES to give it back. He loves that sweatshirt it’s like 2 sizes to big for him

6: (after the book) had a huge growth spurt after the book like it wasn’t even funny😭

7: since Darry and soda are such deep sleepers pony once drew like a “rocketship” and all those other things teenage boys draw he drew it on his brothers faces😣

8: chews his nails

9: has/had a crush on a soc girl and got teased by the gang relentlessly

10: (if it was like modern day idk) he would love headphones/airpods

Dallas

1: got chased by a dog and is forever traumatized from

2: would prolly stink like beer and sweat

3: bro can sleep through a tornado

4: bro prolly has the most greasiest hair

5: bro has a laugh that makes everyone else laugh

6: (before the Curtis parents died) dally finally made Darry sneak out with him and they ended up getting pulled up on by Mr Curtis and they both ended up getting in so much trouble 😭

7: made a your mom joke to the Curtis brothers and ended up getting jumped 😣

8: like those bland ass Cheerios

9: favorite fruit is cherries

10: bro will flip his underwear inside out and backwards since his nasty ass don’t wanna waste the time to wash the clothes

Steve

1: gets mad and when Darry doesn’t make chocolate cake 😣

2: bro will make himself at home at the Curtis house that couch practically as a ass imprint from him

3: likes strawberry shortcake (that’s his favorite dessert)

4: has so much beef with ponyboy they diss eachother anytime they get to

5: bro will HOG the bed if you share it with him

(Sorry his is kinda short 😣)

Two-bit

1: lost his Mickey Mouse shirt in the washer and thought he lost it forever

2: has a younger sister (protective brother)

3: knows how to braid hair

4: tried to recreate Darry’s infamous chocolate cake and he failed miserably 😭

5: he was really mad at Darry when pony ran away. When he found out he said straight in Darry’s face “good brother my ass.”

6: favorite Disney princess is belle (idk why I thought of that)

7: when he’s actually like serious the gang like tenses up a bit

8: knows all the drama from his younger sister he had beef with little kids he’s never even met

His lil sister: “yeah and Shelly and David are dating when she knew David was my crush and I told her too”

Two-bit: “I don’t like Shelly or David 🙄”

Johnny

1: (when the Curtis parents were alive) he once ran to the Curtis house after his father hit him super hard and Mrs Curtis took him in for the night giving him a hot meal and a warm shower and some clean clothes.

2: whenever he needs to crash somewhere he has a designated pallet that he sleeps on in the Curtis house

3: likes m&m popcorn

4: chews the side of his nails

5: can go days without eating

6: bro needs to wash that Jean jacket

(SORRY HIS IS SO SHORT)

[face0fspace1]

i think rqg is even worse than tma in the what is okay and whats not in order to be a family podcast. proof: episode 25 rqg.

1. sex joke

2. penis joke

3. penis joke

4. “extended and lengorous and vigorous intercourse”

5. sex joke

6. sex joke

7. “you cant watch”

8. “bellowing”

9. “i dont think youll be in a state to bellow the way i interview”

10. “do not come unexpectedly”

11. “because he had a really nice bum”

12. “im going to be charming wilde with a combination of intimate knowledge nobility or possibly ride“

13. someone cleaning up with a hose.

14. “some pictures of trains going into tunnels”

please. just swear.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 12

Long time no see on this one. Sorry about that. I was trying really hard to balance everything out, but it didn't work. Hopefully this makes up for it.

I would absolutely go back and read part 11 considering how long it's been.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

In this we find out where the blood came from, Billy gets a gift and a shock, and Eddie proves he's smarter than people give him credit for.

****

Robin sprayed Steve down with a hose and washed away all the blood. Then he shifted. Tommy climbed on his back and dug his hands in the thick fur by his ruff.

He let Tommy steer him to where he needed to go, behind them he could sense both Nancy and Hopper in wolf form running on either side. Neither of them carried any scent of blood, so they weren’t one of his pack who had woken up covered.

Now that he was back in wolf form he could smell that the blood on him wasn’t human. Thank god, but it was still a problem because the scent didn’t smell like any animal he’d ever hunted before.

Patrick was literally on the Coven’s doorstep when Steve arrived. He was surrounded by Billy, Heather, Chrissy, and Keith. Patrick was barely breathing and it looked as though he had been mauled by something. Something big.

Bigger than even Steve.

He nudged Tommy for him to get off which the keeper did quickly. Steve shifted back into his human form.

“Why didn’t you heal him?” he snapped at Billy.

Billy laughed. “Because I figured it was a present to me.”

Steve’s head snapped up. “But you weren’t the one attacked, I was.”

Billy stepped over Patrick’s body as if he was trash. He leaned into Steve’s space. “And you’re weak. Everyone knows it. This was the supernatural community coming to me and telling me that it’s time to dispense of the...” he paused for dramatic affect. “Pleasantries.”

Steve growled and snapped in his face, causing everyone present to gasp.

“I dare you to try, Billy,” he snarled. “You won’t do shit. Everyone knows you’re actual coward, hiding behind the veneer of the Dominus rank. I know about your little spy. I even know who it is.”

Billy was forced to take a step back.

“You don’t know shit, Harrington,” he sneered, trying to gain back the footing he had so clearly lost. “But go on then, come get him if you really think you’re strong enough to take me on.”

Steve scoffed and knelt at Patrick’s side. “I don’t have to take him, Hargrove. I can just do this.”

He picked up Patrick’s wrist. “I can save you,” he murmured. “But you have to consent.”

“Saved me,” Patrick rasped. “Can’t save me–”

“I can,” Steve insisted. “Just give the word and I’ll do it.”

Patrick nodded.

Steve looked up at Chrissy and Keith. “You both saw him nod, yes.”

Keith nodded and Chrissy said, “Yes. I attest that he nodded.”

Steve lowered his mouth onto Patrick’s wrist. Billy whirled around to try to stop him but both Heather and Chrissy leaped to grab his arms to hold him back.

Nancy and Hopper looked on in stunned silence as Patrick’s wounds receded. The boy’s body shook and he howled in pain. Then he laid still.

Everyone watched on.

“Now we see if he has the potential.” Steve got to his feet. He was still naked as he turned to face Billy head on.

“Why would you do that?” Billy snarled. “He tried to kill you. Now if he survives he’ll be able to finish the job. God, Harrington I thought you were dumb but this takes whole new levels.”

Steve scoffed and got right into Billy’s face. They were standing toe to toe and even though Billy was taller and broader than Steve when his blue eyes met Steve’s hazel, Billy ducked his head.

“You didn’t listen, as always,” Steve growled. “He said that I had already saved him. Which means the blood I found when I woke up this morning was that of whatever attacked Patrick.”

Just then Wayne and Eddie landed on the ground behind them, fully transformed. Wayne’s wings were grey to Eddie’s midnight black, but the were longer, heavier, darker in a way that had nothing to do with color but from the aura that surrounded the older vampire.

As none of the current coven were over the age of fifty, most of them born vampires and young, Billy had to bow to Wayne’s age and experience. Wayne hissed and Billy stopped struggling against Keith and Chrissy. He went boneless in their arms as he sank to his knees.

“It’s done,” Wayne said solemnly.

Everyone turned to looked at Patrick.

The boy’s breathing had evened out and his wounds were healed. His clothes were still tattered and torn, covered in the patina of his attack. Steve could hear his heart beat and it too had evened out.

“Take him back to the compound,” he said fiercely. Hopper and Tommy helped Patrick to get on the back of Nancy and Tommy climbed on to help keep him from sliding off. Then Nancy was off like a shot, tearing off toward home.

Steve knelt on the ground and sniffed the blood that remained. It had the taint of something feral and dark. Not werewolf. Not vampire. Some other supernatural being.

“Christ!” Wayne hissed. “What the fuck is a cat sìth doing on this side of the Atlantic?”

Billy scoffed. “There’s no such thing. Not ever legend is real otherwise we’d be fending off at least a thousand demons from Japanese folk lore alone.”

Wayne glowered at him. “Be that as it may, boy. The fae are not only real, but deadly as hell. It’s only because the cat sìth wished it so that he lasted as long as he did.”

Steve rubbed his jaw. There was something off. Something that didn’t make sense.

He shook his head. “A cat sìth was involved, no doubt. But I don’t think that’s who attacked Patrick.”

Every head turned to Steve.

“What do you mean, Stevie?” Eddie asked.

“I’m a good fighter,” Steve explained. “But there is no way that I would have been able to fight one off not if Patrick was the target.”

Billy licked his lips. “Because Patrick wasn’t the target.”

Steve nodded. “The cat sìth was on hand to feast on the real target to make sure there was nothing left.”

“So who was the target?” Hopper growled.

“Considering that Patrick was dumped on Billy’s doorstep?” Chrissy said, “It’s a sure bet it was probably him.”

“But why?” Keith asked.

“Holy fucking shit!” Eddie hissed. “I know exactly what the plan was.”

Billy scoffed. “Like a bitten could figure it out before a bred. Go back to your trailer, trash.”

Wayne leveled Billy a glare that Dominus met head on. Neither man flinched first.

“What have you got, Eddie?” Chrissy asked, breaking the tension.

Eddie puffed out his chest and preened a little at the attention. The alpha in Steve woke with a possessive growl that caught in his throat.

“Patrick was poisoned.”

Every head turned to Steve in concern. Well all but Hopper.

“He’ll be fine,” the gruff former alpha informed the crowd. “Part of the perks of being a werewolf. We can’t be poisoned. It doesn’t stick.”

Steve grinned wolfishly at the vampires. Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Wait,” Chrissy said. “If that’s the case, then they were banking on Billy turning Patrick into a vampire, weren’t they?”

Eddie nodded. “They assumed that Billy would want one of Steve’s assailants as a vampire kind. Adding a valuable ally to the Coven.”

Wayne nodded. “That’s a good thought, boy.” He ruffled Eddie’s hair fondly. “But they didn’t account for one thing.”

Billy grinned this time, finally having caught on. “That I wouldn’t allow a bitten in my coven.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “So what about the cat sìth?”

“That’s where their plan gets ingenius,” Eddie said. “Billy turns Patrick, Billy dies from the poison, the cat sìth eats or at least mangles Billy’s body, and it looks like a turned vampire killed the Dominus, turning the whole coven against Wayne and me.”

Wayne rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m strong and so is Ed, but there is no way that we’d be able to take on an entire coven on our own.”

“Thereby removing the town’s fiercest protector from the board,” Billy finished. “Whoever this person is who’s calling all the shots, I’d like to meet so I can rip off his head.”

Steve winced. “There’s still the problem of what attacked Patrick if it wasn’t the cat sìth.”

Wayne crouched over the spot that the young man had lain and touched the quickly drying blood with all four of his fingers.

He shook his head. “I can’t tell what it was. It’s no beastie I’ve ever run across.”

“Which means that it wasn’t anyone from the community,” Billy said, his relief palpable.

As much as Steve hated to admit it, he agreed with Billy on this one. If Wayne didn’t know the type of supernatural being this was, that meant that it wasn’t someone from Hawkins.

Unfortunately that meant research and Steve wasn’t very good at it. Nancy was, but he wasn’t sure she would tell him what she found, alpha or not.

Eddie seemed to pick up on what he was feeling because Wayne and he shared a glance. Eddie nodded.

“I’ve got you, babe,” he murmured, low in Steve’s ear.

The alpha relaxed.

“As much as I would love to stand around and chat,” Billy said with a sneer. “But the sun is up and I have no intention of frying out here.” He signaled for Chrissy and Keith to follow him and they all went back inside the large manor house that served as the coven headquarters.

That left only Steve and Hopper with Eddie and Wayne.

Steve turned to Hopper. “Get the pack together so I can explain. And you will not speak of what happened here until I arrive. And I forbid Nancy and Tommy from doing the same,” he said slipping into his alpha voice, not trusting Hopper to do as he was told otherwise.

Hopper bristled but shifted back into his wolf form. He took off in a dead heat back toward the Harrington Compound.

Steve sighed. “I don’t know what to do with him now that he’s back. It’s caused such upheaval in the pack that I’m fighting even the ones that backed me in the alpha challenge.”

“It’s certainly not how things are normally done,” Wayne said, nodding. “I will speak with him and see if I can’t get him to be more understanding.”

The alpha nodded. “Thank you.”

Eddie pulled off a backpack that Steve hadn’t noticed in the hubbub of Patrick’s attack and started pulling out large, billowy clothes. He handed the top set to Wayne, who quickly got to work covering every inch of his skin.

As Eddie did the same, he grinned at Steve’s confused expression. “We knew there was a chance that it would be full light by the time we cleared this up and packed accordingly.”

Eddie’s clothes were black to Wayne’s white, but they both included a large brimmed hat, gloves, and bindings to seal their sleeves and pant legs to their limbs.

Steve thought they looked a little ridiculous, but smiled as he waved them off.

He looked up at the manor, once dubbed the Creel House, named after a man who had built it right in vampire territory and paid the ultimate price for his impertinence.

Whatever was brewing in town there was an undercurrent that seemed to stem from the very under belly of the supernatural community and if Steve didn’t figure it out soon, the town was going to rip itself to shreds.

He shifted and ran at full speed back to the compound. He just wasn’t sure if he was running from danger or towards it.

And that frightened him.

****

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @bookbinderbitch @chaoticlovingdreamer

@maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666

@carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten

@vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @goosesister

@tinyplanet95 @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @y4r3luv @fairytalesreality

@anaibis

[noona-clock]

Heart of the Ranch - Part 2

Genre: Cowboy!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 2,818

Once Namjoon left you to your own devices, you decided to walk around the ranch a bit more -- deliberately and avidly avoiding the cow pasture -- simply to dry your shoe off.

...Okay, and to get your wits about you. To settle down. To pull yourself together after that... that... well, after what had happened. You honestly weren't sure what to call it since Namjoon had really only hosed cow poop off your shoe. I guess an appropriate word would be 'encounter,' right?

You needed to pull yourself together after that encounter.

When you had pulled yourself together well enough and made your way up to your room, you were relieved to see your suitcase had been left by your bed. If you'd had to go to Emily's room and ask her for it, you were fairly sure you would've spilled everything that had just happened... and while you had pulled yourself together well enough, you didn't think you were ready to actually talk about it. At least, not without making it sound like the start of one of those corny, guilty pleasure television movies. Or the start of one of your beloved cowboy romance novels. Or a corny, guilty pleasure television movie based on one of your beloved cowboy romance novels.

As you unzipped your suitcase, you suddenly remembered the copper tub in the bathroom. A nice, hot bath sounded like just what you needed. Trish had texted you earlier about a group dinner here at the ranch in a few hours, and a nice, hot bath would be the perfect opportunity to get your thoughts in order.

Hopefully.

"Y/N, there you are!" Rachel grinned just a few seconds after you left your room to head down for dinner. Rachel was stepping through the doorway right across from you, so you returned her smile and reached your hand out so the two of you could walk downstairs together.

"Here I am!" you replied as you looped your arm through hers.

"I feel like I haven't even seen you since we got here," she pointed out, her tone indicating this was clearly a good thing. "I guess you're really taking this vacation seriously, huh?"

Obviously, you weren't going to tell her that you'd gone hunting for cell service immediately after getting out of the car.

Instead, you let out a soft sigh and said, "I mean, yeah, look at this place. It's hard not to be in vacation mode here, y'know? It's so remote and beautiful and different than back home."

Rachel inhaled, about to reply, but then you noticed she glanced over her shoulder before ducking her head close to yours. "Speaking of 'beautiful,'" she whispered. "Have you seen the guy who owns this place?"

You almost choked on a laugh because you certainly hadn't been expecting that!

"Yes, I have," you whispered back. "I ran into him while I was --"

Oh, no. What had you told them you'd be doing after you got here instead of looking for a signal to check your work notifications?

That's right!

"Taking pictures. I actually kind of stepped in some cow poop, and he hosed my shoe off for me."

Rachel gasped softly. "Oh, my gosh. Did he really?"

You nodded, finding you were unable to say anything else without veering into Romance Novel territory.

"...What did he smell like?"

"Like outside and pine-scented soap," you answered immediately.

Okay, whoa.

First of all, why hadn't you questioned Rachel's curiosity? Asking what a stranger smelled like was kind of... odd.

Second of all, why had you answered without a moment's hesitation?

Third of all, why had you even been able to answer?! You hadn't even noticed what he'd smelled like! Or at least you thought you hadn't noticed!

And yet! You knew you'd answered truthfully. You could imagine the smell so perfectly in your mind, and you knew that if you found him, walked up to him, and took a big old whiff, outside and pine-scented soap would be exactly what he smelled like.

"Oooh," Rachel giggled. "I know it's kind of a weird thing to ask, but he's basically a cowboy, and who isn't curious about what a cowboy smells like, right?"

You pressed your lips together briefly as the two of you began a slow descent down the stairs then said, "I'm going to be honest, I didn't even realize I knew what he smelled like. I don't remember even noticing!"

"So what you're saying is that he's already found his way into your soul," she replied with a slow, knowing nod, her tone implying that what she'd just said was pure fact.

"I--"

"Hey, wait for me!" you heard Emily's voice call out behind you.

Both you and Rachel paused, waiting until Emily joined you before resuming your journey down.

"You're right on time," Rachel told Emily. "Y/N was just talking about the soul connection she made with the owner. Remember that hot cowboy who checked us in?"

Emily gasped, but you quickly interrupted. "Okay, that's not what we were talking about!" you corrected with a bemused laugh. "We didn't make a soul connection!"

"You know what he smells like," Rachel pointed out. "Without even realizing you did!"

"That's definitely a good sign of a soul connection," Emily agreed. "Wait, what happened? Where and when and how did this soul connection take place?"

"We don't have a soul connection!" you whisper-shouted, unable to keep the irritation out of your voice. And you'd almost reached the bottom of the stairs by this point, so you didn't want to risk being overheard. But you also didn't want to risk your friends being mad at you, so you added, "I'll tell you all about it after dinner."

As you expected, this satiated them, and the three of you headed toward the dining room where you assumed Trish and the other guests were already waiting.

When you'd read the words 'group dinner' in Trish's text earlier today, you'd been prepared to eat with other guests who were currently staying at the ranch.

So, imagine your surprise when you'd walked into the dining room to see Trish and only Trish sitting at the table. And once you, Emily, and Rachel sat down, a door connecting the dining room to the kitchen swung open, and Namjoon appeared carrying a tray with four plates.

"Where's everyone else?" you asked, making sure to keep your tone curious rather than judgmental.

"This is it!" Namjoon replied with a grin plastered on his lips.

You briefly made eye contact with him but couldn't stop yourself from looking away shyly. He was donning the same clothes as earlier but the cowboy hat was nowhere to be seen, revealing a rather luscious head of dark hair.

As he began to serve the plates to you and your friends, you realized exactly what he was doing -- serving the plates to you and your friends.

He was the owner of this place. Why was he serving dinner?

And why were there no other guests here? It wasn't exactly an off-season for vacation, and this place was gorgeous. The ranch should've been at max occupancy!

Something was off, and as dinner went on, you became more and more sure of it. Namjoon was seemingly the only employee working, at least during dinner! And a closer look around revealed slightly chipped paint and peeling wallpaper, worn floorboards, and door and window hardware that sorely needed to be replaced.

Don't get me wrong: you didn't feel unsafe staying here. It was perfectly clean and cozy.

But, still. It was pretty clear this ranch house was past its prime.

You were too nosy to let it go.

As soon as you finished your dessert, you pushed your chair away from the table and picked up your empty dish, along with anything else on the table your friends no longer needed. And with a 'Don't worry, trust me, I know what I'm doing' look, you made your way into the kitchen.

Namjoon was visibly startled when he heard you come through the door, turning his head swiftly to glance over his shoulder.

"Oh, no, there's no need for you --"

"It looks like you could use the help," you interrupted as you carried the dishes to the sink where he was currently up to his elbows in soapy water.

You could tell he wasn't pleased by your actions, but you couldn't help it. You'd noticed a problem, and you wanted to fix it.

"What's going on here?" you asked gently, though you were unable to keep a slightly suspicious tone out of your voice. You leaned against the counter, standing close enough to Namjoon to smell that pine-scented soap you'd unconsciously imprinted into your brain.

Namjoon's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What do you mean? You're really not supposed to be in here."

"Is it really just you? Do you do everything around here?"

He didn't answer you right away, and that told you everything you needed to know.

"No," he said after a few beats. And then he slid his gaze over to meet yours, his expression one of half-amusement, half-guilt. "I don't do the cooking."

"So, you do everything else?" you asked in disbelief. "All the cleaning, all the administrative tasks, all of the outside work?"

Namjoon let out a soft sigh before nodding.

And then you asked the obvious question: "Why?"

That made Namjoon stop and put down the plate he was washing. He turned toward you fully, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at you. "May I ask why you're asking?"

A chuckle fell out of your lips at his use of your own words against you.

"Because I'm an accountant, and I can spot a financial problem from a mile away," you explained.

Believe it or not, a blush tinged Namjoon's cheeks. A literal cowboy who hadn't flinched at washing off cow poop was now blushing because you'd obviously hit the nail on the head.

"Where do you keep the books?" you asked.

"I can't -- I mean, I really shouldn't --" he stammered.

"You would be doing me a huge favor," you assured him, stepping just a few inches closer and lowering your voice in case Trish was listening at the door. "My friends forced me to come here because they think I work too much, so unsurprisingly, my fingers are twitching to get ahold of something with numbers."

Namjoon took a deep, hesitating breath.

"I'm really good at my job. It probably won't even take long! I don't know what it is about my brain, but I can look at numbers and just --" You snapped your fingers to convey how quickly you could work.

Before you could say anything else, Namjoon laughed softly and said, "Okay, fine. But if I get in trouble with your friends, I'm charging you extra for the pillow chocolates."

"You leave chocolates on the pillows?!" you gasped.

"No, but I will especially for you, and I'll charge you for it."

The smile tugging at his lips was also making his eyes crinkle in the most adorable and attractive way. And it was then you noticed something about him that was always a dealbreaker for you -- but a 'dealbreaker' in the sense that, once you saw someone possessed this feature, you were a goner. Hook, line, and sinker.

Namjoon had dimples.

Thankfully, Namjoon said, "Let me just finish up here, and I'll show you. Meet me at the front desk in about twenty minutes?" because you were now so breathless, you weren't sure you could actually speak.

You nodded at him, letting out a positive 'mhm' before getting out of there as quickly as possible.

...And then you were almost immediately accosted by Trish, Emily, and Rachel.

Of course.

"What happened?"

"Why did you go in there?"

"And what about the cow poop?!"

Considering, the four of you were still right outside the kitchen, you shushed your friends and shooed them into another room -- a sitting room with plush armchairs and a roaring fire.

Once you were all settled, you took a deep breath.

"Okay, so," you began.

Trish, Rachel, and Emily all leaned forward in their chairs.

You tried not to leave out any detail, starting from when you got out of the car (yes, you admitted to looking for a cell signal to check your work notifications) and ending with agreeing to meet Namjoon at the front desk to look over the ranch's finances (yes, you even included the fact you'd noticed his dimples).

"Oh my god, you're going to fall in love," Emily breathed, her eyes wide and sparkling. "You're going to move here and help him get this place back to its former glory and live happily ever after."

"Emily!" you laughed, rolling your eyes. "Please. None of that is going to happen. I mean, hopefully, I can help a little, but... Definitely not the rest of it."

Trish pushed the cuff of her shirt back and checked her watch, eyebrows raised. "So, you've got about twelve minutes before you're supposed to meet him, which means we've got twelve minutes to come up with a plan."

"A plan?" you asked before either Emily or Rachel (or both) could say something. "A plan for what?"

"A plan for you to actually have fun on this vacation," she answered with a nod.

...How were you supposed to refute that? If you said 'no,' it would just be Grinch-y of you! And, sure, maybe you were a workaholic (you were definitely a workaholic), but you weren't a Grinch.

At least you hoped not.

So, you simply said, "All right, I'm all ears."

Luckily, Namjoon was already sitting at the front desk when you arrived -- if you'd had to wait for him, you surely would've snooped. Snooping was not part of The Plan, and while you still weren't fully convinced you needed The Plan, you didn't want to dismantle it in hour zero.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, trying to ignore the flutterings in your heart and stomach when he looked up and half-grinned at you.

"Hey..." he replied with slight dread clutching his words. He stood from his chair and pulled it out just enough for you to take his place. "Be my guest."

And now your heart was fluttering for a totally different reason. Once you sat down and turned toward his computer, you were faced with spreadsheets and numbers and finances.

This is what made your life worth living!

...All right, objectively speaking, you could understand why your friends had made you take a vacation.

Anyway.

For the next hour, you pored over Namjoon's financial spreadsheets for the year, asking for more details and pointing out discrepancies along the way ("Why are you spending this much on plates and glasses?" "What can I say, I'm clumsy!"). You tried not to be too in-depth, but your accounting brain couldn't help it.

When you finally finished, you let out a short sigh, turned around to face him, and said in the most agreeable tone you could muster, "Whoever does your finances has no idea what they're doing."

Namjoon pressed his lips together. "...It's me," he admitted.

"...You don't have an actual accountant?"

He shook his head.

"Not even someone to do your taxes?"

He shook his head again.

"Namjoon," you scolded. "Why?! You're a business!"

"Because I can't afford it!" he rebutted.

"Yeah, you can't afford it because you don't know what you're doing!"

Truly, you were not trying to be mean. Unfortunately, you were just stating a fact!

Before he could argue or apologize, you said, "I would be absolutely happy to help you, but I can't do much with what little you have. The first problem we have to solve is revenue."

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something... but then he quickly closed it. His forehead wrinkled, and his lips tugged downward in confusion.

"...We have to solve a problem?"

"Yes, we," you answered, avoiding his gaze just a little bit. "I've already gotten involved, and I'll be here all week. I might as well see things through."

And also because the first part of The Plan was doing just this: coming up with a way to help Namjoon and BTS Ranch and personally following through with it. In the words of Emily, it would mean spending more time with Namjoon, and spending more time with Namjoon meant you'd fall in love faster.

You certainly didn't know about that, but... you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to spend more time with him. If only to see his dimples again.

(See them up close and personal, that is. You'd certainly see them in your dreams -- probably for the rest of your life!)

Namjoon's deep sigh broke into your thoughts, and your gaze wandered over to meet his again.

"Well, then" he murmured, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "What should we do?"

Part 3

[reaper-swings]

Been doing a ‘draw everyday’ thing with some friends, these were day 5, 7, and 8 for me

The first one was just a sketch, the second one was inspired by the one reaction in AC:NH, and the last one I wanted to draw some rubber hose :)

I have some serious brain rot for this character as well as FNaF as a whole

[jurassicsickfics]

Alternative phrases for "I'm gonna throw up" 🤢:

1. "I think my belly's gonna blow..."

2. " This is gonna be way more than a burp..."

3. " I'm about to fill that bucket..."

4. " I think I need to spew..."

5. "Here comes the fire hose..."

6. " I'm gonna sick..."

7. "I think I'm gonna blow chunks..."

8. "That (food) I ate is about to come back to haunt me..."

9. " My stomach feels like a shaken bottle of pop..and..now it's gonna spew..."

10. "I've gotta spit up..."

[plantanarchy]

Many of my blue hydrangeas turned out purple but I've overheard many people say "I love the purple" so. It's fine.

Changing the color of hydrangea blooms has to happen before they've started forming buds so you can't know if you've done it right until the sepals start to color.

Blue happens when pH is low and aluminum ions are available to be taken up by the plant to bind with pigments, creating blue. If pH is too high or other phosphorous too high, aluminum ends up as aluminum hydroxide or aluminum phosphate which isn't available to the plant, and flowers end up pink.

Purple means some of the aluminum was available to my supposed to be blue hydrangeas and some wasn't. I watered them by hand with a watering can since January with only with a low phosphorous fertilizer specifically meant for blueing hydrangea and every other watering with a plain water sulfuric acid solution through our injection.

Our water's default pH from the well is around 8, sometimes higher, so it's difficult to drop below 6 and every pH meter we have is broken so... No cabiliration has been done on the injector for several years and there was no pH testing of the Hydrangea's soil or the acid solution through the hose done this year.

But my big hunch about our trouble with blurple hydrangeas that happens yearly is just that transplanting forced hydrangeas in January into large pots without bottom heat to encourage root growth means their root systems are never the greatest and they can't take up much aluminum without the healthy roots to do so. The solution to that would be growing them on a heated bench in a warmer house or transplanting into 6.5"-7" pots rather than 8".

God, sorry for the horticulture chemistry word vomit. I haven't studied chemistry since my sophomore year of high school and I actually nearly flunked that class because that was the year I got brain damage falling off a horse.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 8

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 7

part 9

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

The loser of the family game night turned out to be Leorio. As punishment, he would be forced to wear a pair of (Name)’s heels to the Barbie Movie.

“Ugh, as long as they’re not big heels I don’t care. I don’t want to get sprayed by the hose again. I ended up with bruises last time…”

‘Bruises? From being sprayed with water?’

Kurapika glanced between Killua and Gon.

“Remind me not to lose family game night.”

The group washed up before heading to bed.

“We’re waking up early tomorrow, so get some rest! I wanna see the Barbie Movie as soon as possible!”

Kurapika watched as (Name) ran up the stairs, giggling to herself. She was beyond excited for tomorrow, the blonde being able to tell just by her happy aura.

‘I hope she won’t mind I don’t have anything pink for tomorrow…’

He left the living room, stopping when he spotted Killua and Gon in the laundry room.

“Here, throw mine in too!”

Kurapika kept walking, not wanting to know what the two were up to. He just wanted to sleep so he was well rested for their long day tomorrow.

Leorio slept in the spare bedroom upstairs, Kurapika slightly jealous he got to sleep so close to her.

—————

Kurapika woke up early, before the sun had risen. He decided to get dressed and drink some coffee before anyone else was up.

He opened up his shirt drawer with a frown. All of his white shirts were gone. Weird, he remembered folding them away just yesterday…

‘Maybe I left them in the dryer..?’

Kurapika left his room with a yawn, opening the laundry room door and peering in.

Someone had definitely washed clothes, that much he could tell.

The blonde opened the drier and crouched down. His shirts were in there, he could see their outline even in the dark room.

He pulled his shirts out and strolled back to his room, setting them on the end before turning on the light.

“No…”

He stared at his shirts that used to be white, now a light pink color. In the middle of his clothes was his red tabard, and a much smaller white shirt…

Kurapika remembered the conversation he’d heard in passing last night, his eyes widening.

“Killua…”

Kurapika rushed out of his room and down the hallway, throwing open the door to Killua and Gon’s shared bedroom.

The two were still asleep, Killua on the top bunk and Gon on the bottom. Kurapika flicked the light on, causing Killua to groan and roll over.

“Turn that off, you dumb blonde…”

Kurapika scowled before throwing Gon’s shirt at Killua, who caught it.

“What the hell were you thinking turning all of my shirts pink, you little-“

Gon yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Kurapika? What are you doing in here?”

Kurapika paused, glancing down at the sleepy boy. “… you two turned my shirts pink. Why?”

Gok tilted his head. “Well Killua heard you didn’t have a pink shirt. He wanted to help you out.”

‘Killua did? Seems unlikely���’

“Wow, how ungrateful. I made sure you had something pink so (Name) wouldn’t be sad and now you’re yelling at me at 6 am. Smooth.”

Kurapika huffed, turning on his heels and leaving their room. ‘Don’t have time for this. Gotta get-‘

“Hi Kurapika!”

He internally groaned when he heard (Name)’s voice from the kitchen. Kurapika wanted to make breakfast for everyone, but now that she was up she wouldn’t let him. She was stubborn like that.

“Good morning…”

“Not a good morning, he yelled at us.”

Killua walked into the kitchen and hid behind (Name), sticking his tongue out at the blonde.

“Yelled at you? Kurapika, why did you do that?”

She gently pushed Killua’s unruly hair down and kissed the top of his head.

Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. ‘That little brat…’

“He-“

“I simply made sure he had a shirt for the Barbie movie, after he made no effort to get one.”

Killua sighed, looking up at (Name) with crocodile tears. “He’s so mean to me. I did the same for Gon, and he didn’t yell at me!”

Gon walked in wearing his usual outfit, only now wearing a pink undershirt.

“Yeah, Kurapika, there’s no reason to be upset. Do you not like the color pink?”

The all turned to look at him. (Name) seemed a little offended. “Oh. I didn’t know you disliked the color pink so much…”

“Wait, I didn’t say that! I-“

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you to wear pink if I knew…”

(Name) sighed and turned back to cooking, Killua sending Kurapika a smug look before he and Gon left to get dressed.

“… I don’t hate pink. It’s just… not my color?”

“Pink is everyone’s color.” Killua yelled from the hallway.

Kurapika didn’t answer, simply walking to his room and shutting the door behind him.

——————

“God I think I’m going to die. Is this what being a woman is like?”

(Name) watched Leorio struggle to walk down the stairs in a pair of her pink heels, having to hold a hand her Killua’s mouth to keep him from laughing.

“If you mean baring the weight of being uncomfortable to conform to beauty standards, then yes.”

She offered him her hand as he reached the final step, leading him to the couch.

Kurapika left his room, wearing his red tabard and pink undershirt. (Name) glanced back at him and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Oh, nice. Pink is… close to red! It’s good enough!”

Kurapika glanced at the rest of the group and then down at himself. Each one of them, besides (Name) who was still in her pajamas, was dressed in bright pink. Even Gon’s shirt had soaked in more pink than his!

“Well, I know who’s not winning best dressed. Less competition for me…”

Leorio had an entire hot pink suit for Christ’s sake!

‘Overkill much?’ Kurapika thought, scowling. (Name) served everyone breakfast before running upstairs to get dressed herself.

“Is she… upset I’m not wearing pink?”

“Wow. He’s learning.”

Kurapika sent Killua a glare.

“I wouldn’t say she’s upset, maybe a bit disappointed. She’s been looking forward to this for a while, and was nice enough to give us two days notice.”

Gon was the voice of reason, patting Kurapika’s shoulder as he spoke.

“… I see. I didn’t mean to disappoint her, I was just busy yesterday.”

“When are you not busy?”

“…”

Kurapika folded his arms over his chest and stared out the window. He didn’t have a response for that, at least not a response that would convince Killua of anything.

The boy may be a rude brat, but he could point out when someone was lying like it was second nature to him.

“Hey, we have to stop in town to grab some snacks for the movie theater anyways. Why don’t you and Killua go grab you a pink shirt or something?”

“Leaving me and Killua alone sounds like an awful idea.”

“Maybe, but he’s the only one that can take you where you need to go, and I am NOT walking around town in these heels.”

Kurapika groaned, plopping down onto the couch. Killua followed suit, obviously not thrilled about the situation either.

‘But… it’s for (Name).’ Killua thought, glancing the blonde.

“Alright, I’ll take you. But you owe me one.”

Kurapika just nodded, his head in his hands.

While they were distracted, (Name) began to walk downstairs, the sound of heels clicking against the wooden stairs.

As she came into view, Leorio turned Kurapika’s head to look at her, his own jaw dropped at the sight.

“You boys ready?”

She was wearing a short gingham patterned pink dress that stopped at her upper thigh. It flared out at the bottom, a white petticoat peeking out.

On her legs were a pair of white thigh highs with a lacy ruffle at the top, squishing the soft flesh of her thighs. Her pink Mary Janes clicked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

She set her heart shaped handbag on the dining room table as she glanced at herself in the mirror one more time.

Kurapika couldn’t speak, and breathing wasn’t coming much easier. She looked absolutely adorable, different than the previous times he’d seen her dress up.

“You’re like a real life Barbie!” Gon said, jumping up and following her around as she packed her belongings into her purse.

“Aww, thank you sweetheart. That’s what I was going for!”

She ruffled the boys hair and smiled, the smile reaching her eyes this time. Kurapika realized that she looked so much prettier when her eyes crinkled up when she smiled.

“Come on, if we don’t get there early enough we won’t get the good seats!”

The group followed behind their very pink friend, jumping into the car. “Okay, we’re going to be splitting up, gang.”

“What is this, an episode of Scooby Doo?”

“Killua.”

He quieted down, folding his arms over his chest.

“Me and Gon will be shopping for snacks. You, Kurapika, and Leorio will watch the car.”

“Why does Gon get to go and I don’t?”

“Because you got kicked out while Gon was out of town, so he’s the only one allowed inside with me. Leorio’s wearing heels, and if Kurapika isn’t here to watch you, who knows what you’ll do.”

Leorio sighed. “You’re right. I’m in no shape to catch him.”

(Name) squeezed his shoulder. “Exactly. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

Killua waited until the two were in the store before climbing into the front seat.

“Alright, let’s go. We have maybe 15 minutes to get you another shirt. In (Name) time, that means 25 minutes.”

Kurapika slid into the drivers seat and drove out of the parking lot.

“Turn here.”

“But that’s a-“

“Just turn you dumb blonde!”

That was the second time he’d been called a dumb blonde today. ‘I hope that’s not a new nickname…’

Killua and Kurapika left the car, Leorio waving at them from the backseat.

“Are you sure this is the only place that sells pink shirts for men?”

“… they sell pink shirts.”

Kurapika sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Killua led him inside.

Kurapika looked over the abysmal men’s section, seeing nothing pink. “You said there were pink shirts for men.”

“I said there were pink shirts.”

“… where Killua?”

The boy pointed to the women’s section, Kurapika narrowing his eyes. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“If it was a joke I’d be laughing. Come on, do you want to make (Name) happy or not?”

Kurapika thought about the current situation for a moment. Was pleasing (Name) worth his pride?

‘…’

Kurapika looked down at his new shirt, pleasantly surprised at how well it fit.

It was a plain black shirt with the pink Barbie logo on the front. He’d also bought a pair of pink women’s jeans.

Again, they fit… too well…

“You’re not beating the allegations of you being a woman, Kurapika.”

Kurapika sent Leorio a glare. “I don’t want to hear anything from you, not right now.”

While Kurapika didn’t care about wearing pink, he was a little embarrassed to be decked out in women’s clothing. The jeans were bedazzled on the butt for goodness sake!

“Boys, we’re back I-“

(Name) looked at Kurapika, who was now in the backseat again, now wearing his new Barbie outfit.

“I… bought an outfit. For the movie.”

His cheeks were a light shade of pink. Kurapika didn’t often put in this much effort to please another person, it felt… strange. He wanted her to compliment him, tell him how nice he looked.

“Oh, you look so handsome! Pink really is your color!”

She placed the bags of snacks in the floor of the backseat. Kurapika’s blush deepened, Killua glancing at him from his seat with a raised eyebrow.

They drove to the theater, (Name) barely able to stay still in her seat. “Oh, my friend saw it last week and said it was amazing! I’m so excited!”

Kurapika watched, his eyes softening ever so slightly. He hadn’t seen her this happy since the Hunter Exam when she got her license.

(Name) stepped out of the car, barely able to contain her excitement as she dashed towards the movie theater.

“Hey, be careful, you’ll trip!” Killua called out, but even as he scolded her he was grinning ear to ear. He’d only seen her like this a few times before, it always made him smile. (Name) did so much for him, it was only fair he’d try and make sure she was happy too.

Leorio stumbled into the movie theater, having to steady himself against a wall. “Jesus my legs are killing me. How do you wear these, (Name)?”

“Through gritted teeth and with bandaids on my heels!”

She left the group to buy their tickets.

Kurapika watched as (Name) stood in line behind a bunch of other women dressed in pink. Out of all of them, Kurapika’s eyes only fell on her. He wasn’t interested in the thin woman in skin tight pants in front of her, or the curvy woman with the low dip in her top.

(Name) was the only one that could capture his attention, his lust. He watched the edge of her skirt twirl around her legs when she walked, the soft squish of her thighs when she crouched down to pick up a little girl’s Barbie.

The women in line all seemed to adore (Name), smiling and laughing as they took pictures together. She seemed so at peace, wiggling in her spot as another woman showered her in compliments.

“She seems pretty popular with women.” Leorio said, having taken off his heels to apply bandaids.

“I guess so…”

Leorio hummed. “Maybe they’ll get lucky and she’ll give them her number.”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “Her number? Why?”

The dark haired man tilted his head, but didn’t answer.

(Name) hurried back to the group, handing out everyone’s tickets.

——————

The five sat down in their assigned seats.

From left to right was Gon, Killua, (Name), Kurapika, and Leorio.

(Name) held her breath through the commercials, having to be reminded to breathe by Killua. “Come on, it’s almost time. You don’t want to pass out before it’s started, huh?”

She only nodded and pulled her purse into her lap. Kurapika glanced down at her lap to see her pulling out a small Barbie doll. It was obviously old, but taken care of. As the movie started, she held the doll to her chest, beaming as Barbie appeared on screen.

“It’s her! It’s Barbie!”

She shook Kurapika’s arm and pointed to the screen, her eyes twinkling.

He could only nod, flustered when her hand didn’t leave his arm. She was too distracted by the movie to notice, but he wasn’t.

The movie continued for around thirty minutes, (Name) completely enraptured by the world of Barbie.

That was until the movie suddenly turned off.

Gon was the first to say something. “What’s happening?”

(Name) didn’t answer, the smile falling from her face. “… I’m not sure, but we should get out of here. Let’s go to the lobby and talk to a manager.”

Kurapika watched as she stood and brushed her skirt off. She seemed disappointed and a bit upset, holding onto that Barbie doll like it was a lifeline.

She helped Leorio down the stairs, looking around to make sure there wasn’t any danger. Kurapika noticed her herding the two boys behind her when they tried to walk ahead.

“We’re not sure what’s happening, so stay by me, okay?”

Kurapika watched her with soft eyes. Even though she was clearly upset that the movie she’d been looking forward to had been interrupted, the first thing on her mind was making sure they were safe.

(Name) talked with the people at the front desk while the others gathered at the small arcade attached to the side.

“You got any quarters, Kurapika?” Gon asked, hoping to play a few games while they waited.

“No, I don’t carry change.”

“Why?”

“It’s heavy.”

Gon and Leorio exchanged a look. “Okay…”

(Name) jogged back, Killua meeting her halfway. It was almost like he could sense she had bad news, his hand taking her’s.

“They…”

She held her Barbie tight in her other hand, her lip quivering.

“They had to cancel all their showings for today… they had an issue with the film.”

Killua was quick to try and console her. “Hey, we can see it some other time! W-“

“But we won’t be able to get together like this some other time!”

Kurapika flinched. Every member of the group glanced his way when she said that.

“I… I’m sorry. It’s not that big of a deal, let’s just go home.”

(Name) shoved her Barbie into her purse and stormed out the door, holding her keys in her hand.

“(Name)!”

Killua followed after her as the other three watched.

“… when are you leaving, Kurapika?”

The blonde didn’t meet the young boy’s eyes. “… next week on Friday.”

Leorio pulled out his phone and began looking some things up.

“Hold up, I have a plan.”

———————

Leorio took over driving the mom van. (Name) was too busy sulking to pay any attention to the road.

“You know…”

(Name) glanced up from her phone as Leorio spoke.

“I heard they’re selling a Barbie themed build-a-bear…”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “… and?”

He didn’t respond, instead pulling into the parking lot of a familiar store. (Name) peeked out the window, her eyes lighting up at the sight.

“It’s-“

Leorio smiled at her from his seat. “Yep, it’s build-a-bear.”

(Name) leaped out of the car and dashed to the front of the store, staring up at the sign. She glanced back at the group of four, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Leorio…”

She jumped into his arms and kissed his cheek. The man laughed, spinning her around a bit.

“Let’s go get you that bear, Barbie.”

Kurapika watched this from a distance, a bit ashamed he hadn’t thought of anything to cheer her up.

He knew her less than he thought. Kurapika didn’t know her love for Barbies or stuffed animals, he didn’t understand it either. So even though he was jealous that Leorio had received a kiss, he put on a smile and followed them into the build-a-bear.

“Hello kiddos, what are you looking for today?”

The employee addressed Gon and Killua, but the two pushed (Name) forward.

“She wants the Barbie bear.”

The employee blinked, but her smile returned quickly. “Oh, that’s great we just received more bears and bathing suits!”

(Name) squealed in joy, following the employee to the back where she brought out a box of Barbie themed bears.

“Here you go!”

(Name) held the freshly fluffed bear to her chest.

“Boys, do you want a bear as well?”

Gon instantly nodded his head. “Yeah!”

Killua saw the look in (Name)’s eyes and agreed to a bear as well.

The other two declined, but one look from Killua told them she wanted them all to get a bear to celebrate the occasion.

‘I don’t even like stuffed animals…’ Kurapika thought as he picked up a small yellow bear. It was the cheapest one available.

“(Name) can I get thi-“

“If its ugly then no.”

“But it’s not ugly! It’s just… okay it is ugly”

Gon dropped the abomination of a stuffed animal back into its box.

“Can I get this one?”

Killua held up a simple brown teddy bear. (Name) gave him a quick nod before going back to browsing the clothing available.

“(Name), what should I get?”

Leorio paced around in his heels, seemingly getting the hang of walking in them.

“You’re supposed to pick it yourself, but…”

She picked up a blue bear. “How about this?”

Leorio snatched the bear out of her hands and ran over to get it stuffed so he could flirt with the employee.

‘Of course…’

(Name) watched as Gon reached for the frog plush, sighing in relief. At least that one was cute, unlike that strange bird creature he’d asked for before.

“Is everyone ready? Got your outfits?”

They all nodded and brought their bears to the counter.

“Will that be all for you, ma’am?”

“Yes!”

(Name) looked to the price and paused. It was a few hundred dollars, money that could pay for multiple of her bills that month. She glanced down at her own bear. It was the most expensive out of the bunch, so if she took it out…

Kurapika pushed her out of the way and handed the employee his card. “I’ll be paying.”

“Hey, Kurapika-“

Leorio placed a hand over (Name)’s mouth. “Shh, we’re treating you. Don’t worry about it.”

But she would worry about it. (Name) bit her lip as the woman bagged the bears and hands them out to each of their new owners.

“… thank you.”

She pulled her bear to her chest and inhaled her strawberry scent. Kurapika smiled down at her and ruffled her hair.

“You’re welcome, (Name).”

Killua and Gon held their bears, tilting them and turning them. “They’re soft. And… nice!”

“I think that’s the point.”

The group piled back into the mom van, Leorio once again taking the wheel.

“We have another stop. You don’t mind, right (Name)?”

She squinted. “As long as I get to pay for my own things this time.”

Leorio waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”

Their next stop was a small ice cream parlor a few minutes away. (Name) picked out a (flavor) ice cream cone before they all left to sit outside.

“This is nice. I’m a little sad we can’t see the movie, but spending time with you all is more than enough for me.”

The four shared a knowing glance with each other.

After they finished their ice cream, they once again got in the mom van.

“One more stop! Cover your eyes, alright?”

She frowned, but complied to Leorio’s wishes. She heard the car door open and the feeling of Killua’s cold hand grab her’s.

“Come on, I’ll lead you.”

Killua was one of the only people (Name) trusted enough to follow without complaint.

“Alright, open your eyes.”

She pulled her hands away from eyes to see they were at the movie theater. But this wasn’t the one they’d been at before, it was different.

“Is… is this…”

Tears started to pool in her eyes as she realized what was going on. Gon stepped forward and leaned his head on her shoulder. “It’s the movie theater!”

Leorio smiled. “I looked it up, and this movie still has a few airings of the Barbie movie going on. I bought tickets, it starts in 30 minutes.”

(Name)’s mascara began to run down her cheeks. “You did that for me?”

Leorio nodded, pulling her into a side hug. “Of course, you would have done the same for any of us.”

She sniffled, reaching her hands up to rub her eyes but was stopped by Kurapika.

Kurapika grabbed her hand and began to lead her inside. “Kurapika, what-“

“Your makeup. It’s running.”

He opened the door to the women’s restroom and walked in with her, lifting her up to sit on the counter. “Hey! You shouldn’t be in-“

Kurapika covered her mouth. “Shh. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

She pouted, but allowed him to pull her makeup out of her purse. He began to wipe at her smeared mascara, his touch not as gentle as it should have been.

“I can do it myself…”

Kurapika raised an eyebrow. “Not with those shaky hands.”

(Name) blinked and glanced down. Her hands were shaking. ‘He noticed that?’

Her gaze softened. (Name) forgot how observant he could be sometimes. Kurapika finished wiping away her mascara and opened it, applying her mascara for her.

“Blink.”

She listened, batting her long lashes at him. He felt his heart thump against his chest. (Name) really was adorable, even when her makeup was a mess.

“There, all better.”

He helped her off the counter so she could look at herself in the mirror.

“Aww, Kurapika, thank you.”

She turned around and pulled him into a tight hug. Kurapika’s hands shot out to hover around her awkwardly, not knowing if he even had to right to still hold her.

(Name) held onto him for a moment more, head pressed firmly against his chest, before she let go.

“Let’s go, I don’t want to miss the movie!”

The two paused when a group of women walked in, Kurapika stiffening next to her.

The women didn’t give either of them any attention, besides a girl in the back.

“Oh, momma she’s pretty.”

The little girl pointed at Kurapika, her Barbie doll clutched in her other hand. “Like Barbie!”

(Name) glanced at him, a smile on her face. The blonde could only pout.

“Let’s go.”

Killua was waiting for them outside the bathroom. He gave Kurapika a look, his nose scrunched up.

“Have fun in the women’s restroom, you perv?”

(Name) pinched his cheek. “Killua, be nice. And you shouldn’t be saying things like that!”

He swatted at her hands with a pout.

Kurapika’s cheeks were pink from embarrassment. “Tch…”

He walked past the two and towards the theater.

“You feeling any better?”

Killua held onto her hand, his eyes meeting her’s. The white haired boy had been worried for his dear friend, considering how important this movie was to her.

“Yes, much better.”

She squeezed his hand and walked with him to the theater.

——————

(Name) left the movie theater sobbing, having to be guided out by Leorio.

Gon wasn’t fairing much better. His bottom lip poked out as he tried not to cry. “Why were the Kens so mean to the Barbies? What’s a patriarchy?”

He shook Killua by the shoulders, who only groaned. “Ask (Name) about it later…”

“(Name), it’s alright. Come on, you’re smudging your makeup again!” He tried to calm her down, glancing around the lobby to see other women staring at them.

“Is he bothering you, miss?”

A woman had approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder as she squinted at Leorio. He tried to respond, stumbling over his words, but (Name) just sniffled.

“No, he’s my friend. I’m just… the movie…”

The woman nodded. “Yeah, it was good wasn’t it?”

They shared a knowing look, (Name) letting out a heavy sigh. “Thanks for checking on me.”

The woman only smiled before walking away.

“Why did she come over to check on you, (Name)?” Gon asked, tilting his head. (Name) ruffled his hair.

“Well, sometimes all us women have are each other. She thought Leorio might be bothering me, so she walked over to see if I was alright.”

Gok frowned. “But she was even shorter than you. What could she have done?”

(Name) laughed. “That’s not the point, sweetheart. We put ourselves on the line sometimes if it means potentially protecting another woman. It’s called being a girl’s girl.”

Gon didn’t quite understand, but he nodded nonetheless. Kurapika walked towards them holding (Name)’s purse.

“Got it.”

He handed the purse to (Name). “Thanks, dear. Now we can go home!”

She’d forgotten her purse in the movie theater, and Kurapika had offered to grab it for her. The blonde blushed at the pet name, quickly walking ahead of them towards the car.

It was dark now. The outside was crowded with women of many different ages all smiling and laughing together.

“Hi Barbie!”

(Name) smiled when a little girl waved to her and Kurapika. “Hi Barbie!”

She nudged Kurapika’s shoulder, causing him to roll his eyes. “… hi Barbie.”

Gon and Killua waved and smiled to other kids their age, all decked out in pink. Leorio was the odd one out, the only man decked out in a full pink suit wearing heels.

“Wow, who’s man is that? He’s a keeper…”

Leorio perked up at this comment. “Oh wow, in a pink suit too? God that’s hot…”

He began to strut towards their car with a bit more confidence. Throughout the day, he’d become much more comfortable in (Name)’s heels.

‘This is all gonna go to his head.’ Killua thought.

(Name) watched Kurapika walk for a moment, her eyes drifting down.

“Oh, I like the design on your jeans, Kurapika!”

The blonde paused, glancing back at her.

‘The only design on my jeans is…’

“Were you looking at my butt, (Name)?”

She covered her mouth as she gasped. Gon tilted his head. “Why were you looking at Kurapika’s butt?”

“Gon don’t ask people things like that.” Leorio said, groaning.

(Name) stuttered out a reply. “I-I guess I was.”

Oh. He hadn’t been expecting that. Now Kurapika was the one blushing and covering his mouth.

‘She was checking me out?’

He got into the car quickly and used his tabard to cover himself. Just thinking of her looking at him and LIKING his body made all the blood rush to his dick.

“Wow, (Name) I didn’t know you were a pervert.”

(Name) smacked Leorio’s head, still flustered. “I’m not! He’s just got a cute butt and it’s literally shiny right now!”

‘Cute butt?’

He covered his face, the heat in his cheeks nearly burning his hands.

“I can’t believe you’re objectifying Kurapika, (Name). Didn’t we just watch a movie about that?” Killua said, shaking his head.

(Name) glanced back at Kurapika. “Sorry, sweetheart. You do have a cute butt though.”

‘SHE SAID IT AGAIN!’

He didn’t answer, just ready to get home before he came in his pants.

———————

As they rode home, (Name) got a call. Everyone stayed quiet as she answered it, Leorio turning the radio down.

“Yes? Oh hey! Yeah I just saw it. Yeah yeah. Oh my god I cried too! Oh… yes he’s here.”

This made the entire group curious. Which ‘he’ was she referring to?

(Name) bit her lip before responding in a whisper. “No, you’re not fighting him. Oh stop, I told you I was over it already.”

‘I think she’s talking about me.’

Kurapika watched the trees pass by outside his window, a frown on his lips. Even her friends disliked him. Had what he’d done affected her that much?

“Wait tell her I’ll fight him!” Killua yelled.

“Killua you don’t even know who we’re talking about.” (Name) said, covering the speaker of her phone with her hand.

“It’s Kurapika, obviously.” Killua answered, the blonde flinching at the call out. “Who else has-“

“Killua.”

The white haired boy stopped at Leorio’s words. “That’s enough. Let’s not ruin this day, okay?”

Killua knew how important this day was for (Name), but he struggled to stay quiet. It could have been an even better day if she didn’t base it off of Kurapika being there. Then she wouldn’t have been so sad if the movie was cancelled.

‘The only reason we HAD to see it today is because he’ll be leaving soon, and probably never talking to her again.’ Killua thought, frowning. She cared deeply for the blonde, and it pissed Killua off.

(Name) had turned her attention back to her phone. “Wait, really? This week? Oh, I’ll have to check in with everyone first…”

(Name) turned to the group, smiling.

“Who would like to go to the beach Tuesday?”

[mommyvicky001blog]

Anzeichen dafür, dass Sie Windeln tragen müssen

1. Wenn Sie nach dem Pinkeln im Töpfchen immer noch tropfen, müssen Sie eine Windel oder einen anderen gepolsterten Schutz tragen, um Ihre Hose trocken zu halten.

2. Wenn Sie den Drang verspüren, 10-15 Minuten nach der Verwendung des Töpfchens zu pinkeln, sollten Sie stattdessen eine Windel tragen! Das Tragen einer Windel hält Sie produktiv und ermöglicht es Ihrem Körper, sich einfach um das zu kümmern, was er braucht.

3. Wenn Sie viel trinken, müssen Sie zweifellos ständig pinkeln, besonders wenn Sie Soda oder Kaffee trinken. Warum Zeit damit verschwenden, mehrmals pro Stunde aufs Töpfchen zu gehen? Legen Sie einfach eine Windel an und haben Sie weiter Spaß!

4. Wenn Sie jemals in einem Auto gefahren oder gefahren sind und plötzlich das Gefühl haben, dass Ihre Blase platzen wird, müssen Sie eine Windel tragen, um eine solche lästige Situation zu vermeiden.

5. Wenn Sie versehentlich etwas Urin in Ihre Unterwäsche tropfen lassen, weil Sie es nicht halten konnten, müssen Sie eine Windel tragen.

6. Wenn Sie immer wieder über Windeln nachdenken, sollten Sie eine anziehen.

7. Wenn Sie mitten in der Nacht aufgewacht sind, um zu pinkeln, sollten Sie eine dicke, bequeme und flauschige Windel im Bett tragen und lernen, einfach nass zu werden, während Sie schlafen. Es macht Ihr Leben viel weniger stressig und Sie können auch eine ganze Nacht durchschlafen! (Und eine durchnässte Windel!)

8. Das Lesen dieses Artikels ist ein Zeichen dafür, dass Sie Windeln tragen müssen! 😛

Wenn dir dieser Artikel gefallen hat und du mich unterstützen willst, würde ich dich für immer lieben, wenn du mir etwas von meiner Wunschliste holst! Ich verkaufe auch einen sehr gründlichen und detaillierten Windel-Trainingsführer kostenlos, Sie zahlen nur die Liefergebühr! Wenn Sie wie ich süchtig nach Windeln und Bettnässen werden möchten, senden Sie mir einfach eine Nachricht, um Ihre Windelreise zu beginnen! Es macht viel Spaß, vertrau mir. ^^ Link zu meinem Zangi: 1059956319

Jede andere Windel, die von meiner Wunschliste gekauft wurde, erhält eine vollständige Bewertung, komplett mit Vorher-Nachher-Bildern! Ich werde sie tragen, bis sie ausgehen, hehe. 🥰

[shelbystales]

Honor and Blood - Part Eighteen (Previsouly Gypsy Wit)

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Read previous parts here:  1 -  2  -  3  -  4 -  5 -  6 -  7 -  8 -  9 -  10 -  11 - 12 -  13 -  14 -  15 - 16 - 17 -

Summary: you are a gypsy and your family lives near Birmingham. Tommy Shelby needs a favor and Johnny Dogs says you’re the one he should ask for. A meeting is scheduled and when Tommy meets you, he is instantly drawn to you.

Warning: Swearing, fluff, angst

A/N: This is the former Gypsy Wit story, you guys voted and this is the new title. Please comment and interact. tell me what you think! it means a looot to me if you do!

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You woke up to the sound of screams and sirens outside Thomas’ house. As your vision adjusted, you could see Thomas hurriedly putting on his clothes.

“What’s happening?” you asked in a hoarse voice.

“I don’t know, go back to sleep. I’ll handle it,” he said, but you ignored him and slowly started getting out from under the covers.

He left the room as you put on his pajamas, deciding to grab the first thing you saw as you opened his dresser.

“It’s her shop,” Polly said when he found her.

“Whose shop?” Thomas asked, bewildered, looking at Arthur running into the house.

“Y/n’s,” Polly answered, making Thomas breath deeply

“It’s bad. There’s fire everywhere,” Arthur spoke, a bit out of breath.

“Fuck,” Thomas whispered, rubbing his eyes.

“The firefighters are there, trying to control the fire, but it’s already consumed everything, Tommy,” Arthur clarified.

You appeared on the staircase, descending the steps slowly while rubbing your eyes, wiping away the sleep and trying to wake up your body.

When you looked at those present in the room, you frowned.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, confused by the worried looks.

“Sit down, love,” Tommy said, walking over to you.

“What’s happened?” you repeated, now with more firmness in your voice.

“Your shop is on fire, dear,” Polly said.

“What? No!” Your gaze shifted from Tommy to Arthur, from Arthur to Polly, hoping they’d start laughing and say it was a prank or something. But they stared at you with concern in their eyes.

Without much thought, you rushed past them and dashed out barefoot through the streets of Small Heath. 

You needed to see with your own eyes.

The cold wind on your face felt like a burn, but you didn’t stop running. The freezing air entering your lungs, although uncomfortable, couldn’t halt you. You ran as if your speed could make a difference.

Your mind was racing with thoughts. Who did this? If it was someone, if it was an accident. The dozens of carpets in the shop, all gone. All the hard work of your people… going to waste so quickly.

When you arrived, you saw the flames. You brought your hand to your face, a sign almost of desperation.

“No, no, no,” you whispered, getting closer to the scene.

There were several people on the street watching the firefighters in action. People you recognized, like the baker who had a shop near yours, the owners of neighboring stores, and also people who lived nearby.

“You can’t get any closer, ma'am,” the firefighter said to you as he rushed by with a bucket of water.

“Bucket?” you muttered to yourself as he moved away, confused about where the hose would be. That’s why the fire spread so quickly; they’re using fucking BUCKETS.

“Y/n,” you heard Thomas call you from behind.

You turned to him, confused, not knowing exactly what you were feeling. You wanted to scream, curse, tell everyone to go to hell, but all you did was cry.

Tommy quickly hugged you and whispered, “It’s going to be okay, we’ll figure this out.”

“They’re… using buckets,” was all you managed to say between sobs.

An hour later, the firefighters finally managed to control the fire. At that moment, you were sitting in the Garrison, looking out the window at everything the firefighters were doing. Polly had made tea, but Tommy had poured you a whisky, and that’s what you were drinking.

You felt defeated. As if you had lost everything, even though you knew it wasn’t entirely true. 

To make matters worse, during your barefoot run, you stepped on a shard of glass, and your foot hurt. It was now soaked in a mixture of whisky and water that Polly had prepared to prevent infections.

After Thomas asked some questions, he was informed that the nearest water source had been cut off for some reason. That’s why they were using buckets.

The police had arrived and were questioning those present, trying to determine if it was a criminal act or not. They had already interrogated you, trying to find out any mistake you could have made to cause this fire. If you left any candles on or any sort of fire. Obviously, the answer was no.

John walked in through the door, followed by your brother and your father. 

You stood up and hugged them both at the same time. You wanted to cry, but you had already cried so much that it seemed like there were no tears left.

“Who did this?” Your father asked, holding your face in his hands.

“I don’t know,” you said with a lack of energy and shrugged.

Patrick looked out of the Garrison window with a sad expression. “Everyone is going to be so sad,” he said.

“Yea, you don’t have to tell me” you said, sitting back on your chair and putting your feet back into Polly’s mixture

“If someone did this. We’ll now” Thomas said. 

He was sitting close to you, but he was giving you space. You needed time to understand everything, it all happened too fast. 

“What are we going to do?” Patrick asked you. He always saw you as an example, as a guide.

“I still don’t know,” you honestly replied. It felt like the ending of a terrible book, where there was no more story to be told because the main character had been defeated.

Although it might be comfortable to assume the role of a victim, it didn’t suit you.

“Well, um,” you took a deep breath and a sip of your whisky, “maybe the jewels survived the fire. We’ll have to check. Starting tomorrow, we’ll begin repairs and continue production. We’ll hope to have at least a few carpets to sell when the store is fixed, which will take a while, since everyone’s morale will be low. That’s only natural. We don’t have the luxury to stop, we need to keep going.”

“Maybe, just maybe,” your father approached you and knelt in front of you, “this is a sign.”

“No, it’s not a damn sign,” you said, already knowing what he was going to say.

“Y/n, our people aren’t welcome here. This could have been done by anyone,” your father continued. “I told you it was a bad idea, our people aren’t meant to stay in one place.”

“With all due respect, Dad. Just shut up,” you said, and he sighed, standing up and moving away from you.

“I’m going home,” he said, leaving the Garrison.

“The last thing we need right now is you two arguing,” Pat rick said with a passive tone. “There are two carpets ready in the warehouse, we made them yesterday. They turned out well, but people are still trying to learn how to use the machines.” You nodded, still focused on your shop through the window. Patrick looked at Thomas and said, “Take care of her.” With a slight nod, Thomas agreed.

Patrick followed their father out of the Garrison.

You brought both hands to your face; you were exhausted. It didn’t even seem like you had just had one of the best nights of your life, one of the most promising moments in your relationship with Thomas. Less than five hours ago, you were having dinner, and he had shared with you, that’s something. Now, all that good feeling had been wiped away, consumed by this mixture of anger and sadness.

“We’re going to take care of the bastards who did this, Y/n. Yeah. Don’t you worry,” Arthur said, his voice approaching you. Removing your hands from your face, you saw him sitting at the table with you and Thomas.

Arthur’s presence was a comfort, a reminder that the Shelby family stood united even in the face of adversity. Thomas remained silent, his eyes fixed on you. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” you managed to force a smile.

“Wanna go home?” Thomas finally spoke up.

“I have to check on the jewelry,” you said, your mind racing with worry.

“I can have someone do that,” Thomas said, his concern evident. “Come on, you need rest.”

“We all bloody need it,” Polly chimed in, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

“I won’t be able to rest,” you admitted, your gaze still fixed on what was left of your shop.

“But you need to,” Thomas insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

“Leave the girl, Thomas,” Polly instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. He nodded in agreement.

Once the fire was completely extinguished, you approached the firefighters, who warned you that the structure might be compromised, with a risk of collapsing. They urged you to be cautious and swift. 

They also informed you that you wouldn’t be able to start the fixing processes, the city council would need to come and conduct an assessment to determine if the building is at risk or not. Only after that, you could start the renovations.

As you walked through the wreckage of the shop, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. The charred remains of what once held so much promise and hard work were now reduced to ruins.

The jewelry that had been meticulously crafted and displayed with pride was now likely either destroyed or heavily damaged. The thought made your heart ache, but you knew you couldn’t afford to dwell on it now. You had to salvage what you could.

Amidst the debris, you spotted the glint of metal and glass. You found a few earrings and few necklaces scattered around. Some in a better state than others. Thomas helped you on the search, getting his suit all dirty with the soot from the wreckage. 

Why the hell was he wearing a suit? You frowned for a bit, changing your focus. He always had to look good, to present himself well, you admired that, but sometimes it felt stupid. 

As you continued your search, your mind was already working on the steps ahead. 

After confirming that there wasn’t much left to salvage, Thomas waited for you outside the shop as you took in the scene around you for a while longer. 

Stepping out, you saw the Shelbys engaged in conversation with the police officer. Glancing up at the sky, you noticed that the sun had already risen, and life on the street was beginning to stir awake.

Thomas approached you, his gaze sympathetic and reassuring. “Are you alright?”

You let out a sigh, a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “I will be.” He gently took your hand, offering silent support. You managed a small smile, appreciating his gesture “It’s just… a lot to take in.” He nodded, his understanding evident. “What did the cop say?”

“Some people heard voices, other people saw things. They will investigate this properly, but it looks like it was criminal,” Thomas explained, making you sigh in response. 

He let go of your hand to fix his pajamas on you. He closed one more button, not liking how much cleavage you had for show, truth was, his clothes were too big for you  

“Polly suggested you help in the betting shop today. To keep your mind busy, do you want that?” he asked

“It’s better than staying at home with my dad,” you admitted, appreciating the distraction. You looked at him, wondering what the day had in store for you. “What will I have to do?”

“Count money,” he replied with a slight smirk, his attempt at lightening the mood. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Counting money doesn’t sound too bad,” you remarked, feeling a sense of normalcy returning.

“I’ll make sure it’s not too boring for you.” he gave you a malicious smirk that sent shivers down your spine, feeling your core throb 

“Damn you, Thomas Shelby” You smiled and he held his hand to you. You took it and you both walked back to his house.

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[kushblazer666]

THINGS YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU

1. Take your bananas apart when you get home from the store. If you leave them connected at the stem, they ripen faster.

2. Store your opened chunks of cheese in aluminum foil. It will stay fresh much longer and not mold!

3. Peppers with 3 bumps on the bottom are sweeter and better for eating. Peppers with 4 bumps on the bottom are firmer and better for cooking.

4. Add a teaspoon of water when frying ground beef. It will help pull the grease away from the meat while cooking.

5. To really make scrambled eggs or omelets rich add a couple of spoonfuls of sour cream, cream cheese, or heavy cream in and then beat them up.

6. For a cool brownie treat, make brownies as directed. Melt Andes mints in double broiler and pour over warm brownies. Let set for a wonderful minty frosting.

7. Add garlic immediately to a recipe if you want a light taste of garlic and at the end of the recipe if your want a stronger taste of garlic.

8. Leftover snickers bars from Halloween make a delicious dessert. Simply chop them up with the food chopper. Peel, core and slice a few apples. Place them in a baking dish and sprinkle the chopped candy bars over the apples. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes!!! Serve alone or with vanilla ice cream. Yummm!

9. Reheat Pizza

Heat up leftover pizza in a nonstick skillet on top of the stove, set heat to med-low and heat till warm. This keeps the crust crispy. No soggy micro pizza. I saw this on the cooking channel and it really works.

10. Easy Deviled Eggs

Put cooked egg yolks in a zip lock bag. Seal, mash till they are all broken up. Add remainder of ingredients, reseal, keep mashing it up mixing thoroughly, cut the tip of the baggy, squeeze mixture into egg. Just throw bag away when done easy clean up.

11. Expanding Frosting

When you buy a container of cake frosting from the store, whip it with your mixer for a few minutes. You can double it in size. You get to frost more cake/cupcakes with the same amount. You also eat less sugar and calories per serving.

12. Reheating refrigerated bread

To warm biscuits, pancakes, or muffins that were refrigerated, place them in a microwave with a cup of water. The increased moisture will keep the food moist and help it reheat faster.

13. Newspaper weeds away

Start putting in your plants, work the nutrients in your soil. Wet newspapers, put layers around the plants overlapping as you go. Cover with mulch and forget about weeds. Weeds will get through some gardening plastic they will not get through wet newspapers.

14. Broken Glass

Use a wet cotton ball or Q-tip to pick up the small shards of glass you can't see easily.

15. No More Mosquitoes

Place a dryer sheet in your pocket. It will keep the mosquitoes away.

16. Squirrel Away!

To keep squirrels from eating your plants, sprinkle your plants with cayenne pepper. The cayenne pepper doesn't hurt the plant and the squirrels won't come near it.

17. Flexible vacuum

To get something out of a heat register or under the fridge add an empty paper towel roll or empty gift wrap roll to your vacuum. It can be bent or flattened to get in narrow openings.

18. Reducing Static Cling

Pin a small safety pin to the seam of your slip and you will not have a clingy skirt or dress. Same thing works with slacks that cling when wearing panty hose. Place pin in seam of slacks and ... guess what! ... static is gone.

19. Measuring Cups

Before you pour sticky substances into a measuring cup, fill with hot water. Dump out the hot water, but don't dry cup. Next, add your ingredient, such as peanut butter, and watch how easily it comes right out. (Or spray the measuring cup or spoon with Pam before using)

20. Foggy Windshield?

Hate foggy windshields? Buy a chalkboard eraser and keep it in the glove box of your car When the windows fog, rub with the eraser! Works better than a cloth!

21. Re-opening envelopes

If you seal an envelope and then realize you forgot to include something inside, just place your sealed envelope in the freezer for an hour or two. Viola! It unseals easily.

22. Conditioner

Use your hair conditioner to shave your legs. It's cheaper than shaving cream and leaves your legs really smooth. It's also a great way to use up the conditioner you bought but didn't like when you tried it in your hair.

spotted on the Tedooo app

23. Goodbye Fruit Flies

To get rid of pesky fruit flies, take a small glass, fill it 1/2' with Apple Cider Vinegar and 2 drops of dish washing liquid; mix well. You will find those flies drawn to the cup and gone forever!

24. Get Rid of Ants

Put small piles of cornmeal where you see ants. They eat it, take it 'home,' can't digest it so it kills them. It may take a week or so, especially if it rains, but it works and you don't have the worry about pets or small children being harmed!