#I wouldn't be thrilled to be in her shoes in either case

[vorpalmuchness]

it is so interesting to me that in killer frequency, a caller is supposedly safer with a house full of drunk frat boys than with a serial killer

[eunchancorner]

Headcanons for the neighbors + Laurel? They've been rattling around in my brain recently

THEM

NORMAL HCS

-Eduardo is the saddest bb in the household for obvious reasons

-Was essentially dubbed the leader of their little friend group because he was the only one who was good at compromising.

-While the main four/three were trying to find new thrills in the form of amazing adventures, the other five (Eduardo, Jon, Mark, Todd and Laurel) were living life to the fullest

-Laurel helped Eduardo keep his temper in check

-Eduardo is very bi, I don't make the rules

-CANON GAY MARK CANON GAY MARK CANON GAY MARK CANO

-Jon... I can't pin down what I hc his sexuality to be. I wouldn't be surprised if he's straight, but he also seems like he'd be pan

-Laurel is also bi bc I said so >:3

-Mark is banned from cooking. Still.

-Ghosty Jon does in fact hang out around the house, but is usually invisible and silent

-Mark has taken it upon himself to be Eduardo's caretaker until he's ok again

-Ok so I have so many hcs for Todd bc he's a character who we only see a partial cameo of so my brain filled everything in for me so here we go

-Todd has floofy brown hair that's similar in color to Tord's, glasses, shit tons of band tees and a very big dislike for confrontation

-He's absolute BESTIES with Jon

-He's also Swedish bc yes

-Sweet bb, always helps when he can

-He went to pursue a college education shortly after PowerEdd so he could find a career, but he emails his friends fairly often

-He also doesn't know Jon's dead, he only knows Mark has been the only one responding to his emails lately and he's very worried

-Also, yes, in case you were wondering, I do interpret Laurel's death as canon as we never see her again. Meaning Saduardo being sad bc no gf

-Eduardo has a tendency to pushed loved ones away after losing Laurel, fearing loving them is putting them in danger

-While the bois were watching shoe get married, Laurel's funeral was being held

-Laurel ended up having bought him a cute little necklace for Christmas and his friends gave it to him. He always has it on under his shirt

-Before her untimely demise, Laurel was a very bubbly and kind soul

-Her and Eduardo met on a dating app and it was love at first sight

-Eduardo was very shy at first and Laurel thought it was the cutest thing ever

-But he got more confident with her help

-She was very fast friends with Mark, Jon and Todd

-Eduardo and Mark secretly called Laurel, Jon and Todd the 'Bubbly Trio'

-Jon has been learning Spanish with Eduardo's help so they could have secret convos

-Well all know the hc that Mark is a bookworm. Yes it applies here

-Mark is a very smart boi, often asked many questions

-Mark is also a very kind boi, will do anything in his power to make sure his friends are happy and safe

-Jon is very bad at reading social cues

TICKLE HCS (here we go)

-In order from most lee to most ler: Jon, Eduardo, Todd, Mark, Laurel

-In order from most ticklish to least: Eduardo, Jon, Todd, Laurel, Mark

-Yes, the neighbors share worst spots with their next-door counterparts (Laurel's is her sides)

-Eduardo finds his ticklishness very embarrassing and only his friends know

-Jon's perfectly ok with it and didn't mind telling people he was ticklish

-Mark could go either way about it, but if asked directly he kinda panics

-Todd will ball up, not even joking

-Laurel would've just tickled you first lol

-Eduardo's a loud, cussy, squirmy boi when tkled, but does enjoy it

-Jon's a sweet giggler, he'd just scrunch up and try to stim it away

-Mark tries not to react at first but he can get pretty loud if you get him good >:3

-Todd will just tighten his ball formation and try to hide himself and his laughter

-Should Laurel get got, she'd fight back bc she was just a generally playful person who loved a good tickle fight

-Todd snorts. It's been said, I said it

-Yk how Jon's prone to voice cracks? That, but laughter makes it worse, to the point where he sounds like a giggly mouse

-Eduardo and Laurel had shit tons of tickle fights

-Actually all of them do, tho as of late they've become extremely rare due to Eduardo being a Saduardo

-Eduardo would always be a cocky boi in the beginning, claiming he'd win

-And everyone else would just silently agree to tag-team him until he gave in

-Also Mark would often get got just so they could hear him laugh

-And also Jon bc... well he's adorable

-Laurel usually does most of the tickling, and it's usually sneaki

-Yes she's made Eduardo squeal on more than one occasion, yes she called it the cutest thing ever, yes he turned into a tomato

-Snuggle piles after tickle fights quickly became mandatory since absolutely none of them didn't enjoy some nice affection

This is all I can think of now, hope you liked!

[pure-garbage]

Torture And Torment! A Nightmarish Treasure Hunt

Chapter Warnings: Torture, Language, Self-harm. Minors DNI

"What a bust," Nami grumbled. "I still can't believe someone got to the treasure before us."

"I think we have bigger things to worry about right now," Lana groaned. She tugged fruitlessly against the chains securing her to the dungeon's stone wall. Behind her, she could hear footsteps growing ever closer. "Nami, I've got pins in the lining of my dress... kick your shoes off and see if you can reach them with your toes."

"Huh?! How flexible do you think I am anyway?!" Nami demanded. She was manacled the same way Lana was, hands high over her head facing the wall of the ancient fortress it would seem their captors were using as a temporary base of operations.

"We have to try something! No one's coming for us! As far as they know, we're still exploring the ruins with Robin on the other side of the island."

"Yeah, in hindsight we really should have told someone before we rushed off following that map," Nami sighed. The map in question had been found clutched in a case held tight by a skeleton, presumably the last person to try finding it. The straw hats might have taken it as a bad omen, but a series of avaricious assumptions led them to disregard it and press on instead.

"We got excited, I didn't think of it either," Lana admitted. "Now come on and try to get my pins so we can get out of here."

"Even if I can manage to get them with my toes- which is a stretch already, by the way- there's no way I can get my feet up to your hands!"

"I'll grab them with my teeth."

"From my toes?!"

"You got a better idea?!"

"Ooh, an idea? Do share."

The girls tensed together, casting their gazes over their shoulders in sync. It was the man who'd captured them.

"Blow dart man!" Lana growled. "That was a dirty trick you pulled back there!"

"My signature blooming gas dart?" he smiled. "My pride and joy, that one is. I designed it specially to deal with fighters skilled enough to block my darts before they hit... the grand line is simply crawling with such warriors and I had to adapt. I'm very adaptable, you see. You should feel flattered. I only use that one on the most formidable opponents."

"Well excuse me if I'm not thrilled with your sneaky little 'compliment'," Lana sneered. "Let me and my friend go or you'll live to regret it. The rest of our crew is looking for us as we speak. They'll tear you limb from limb if you lay a finger on us!"

"Mm, you're just as feisty as your friend," blow dart man smirked. He licked his lips lecherously while the straw hat girls scowled at him. "I'll be happy to unchain you... just as soon as you tell me where you stashed that treasure."

"Too easy," Nami smiled. "There was no treasure. Or rather, it was already long gone by the time we found that chest. So you really don't have any more business with us. Time to let us go."

He laughed out loud.

"You can't seriously expect me to believe such an obvious lie," he chuckled.

"It's not a lie!" Lana protested. "Now unchain us!"

"Don't worry, I understand," blow dart man assured them. "If I found such a cache of jewels, I wouldn't give up its location easily either. I'm glad you two want to take this route... it's more fun this way. And I came prepared."

He pulled a whip from his belt, unfurling it with a crack that resounded deafeningly off the stone walls. Lana gulped hard, meeting Nami's eyes to find them full of terror.

"Yeah, we stepped in it this time," Lana informed her, voice shaking a little despite her best efforts to stay calm.

_______________________________________________

Lana could feel blood dripping down her back, warm and wet. The stinging of the welts was intense, but she thought only one of blow dart man's lashes landed hard enough to break the skin. Rage filled her, boiling up and stopping at the back of her throat where she swallowed her cries out of spite.

'This bastard's playing with us. He's not interested in leaving marks, he just wants to hear us scream.'

It was Nami's turn now, her cries filling the air as the man set upon her with the same glee he had Lana.

'This is bad! Even if I could reach my pins, I can't use them with him watching us! He'll take them away before I can get free! And this sadistic son of a bitch shows no signs of letting up! Maybe... we can trick him somehow. Talking our way out of this might be our only option...'

Above, a commotion gave their tormentor pause. Screams, shouts, the unmistakable clang of shattering steel...

"What the hell are those idiots doing up there?!" he demanded.

"Sounds like a fight," Lana observed, seizing the opportunity. "My bet? Our crew's come to collect us. You're really screwed now, blow dart bastard!"

"That so? We'll just see about that."

He left and excitement shot through Lana like an arrow, invigorating and urgent. She knew there was no way their crew had found them, not this quickly, not on an island this size, but she was sure she could take the bastard if she could just get free.

'His darts are only dangerous until you figure out the trick. If I catch them instead of breaking them, they're harmless. I'm gonna tear this smug son of a bitch limb from limb!'

"Nami! Can you move?" Lana whispered harshly.

"I... I..."

The only thing holding her upright were the chains. Nami wasn't used to taking this kind of beating. She was in no shape to help Lana break them out.

"Don't worry about it," Lana panted. "I'll get us out of here. Just hang on for me, 'kay?"

'I need to reach my pins...'

Lana wound the chains around her wrists, grunting with pain and exertion as she struggled to pull her body higher. The pins were concealed at her waist.

'... Just a little more...'

She reached the base of the chain where it moored to the wall and strained, pulling herself up toward her hands. Her muscles ached and the stripes on her back stung, but she pressed on.

'I can do it! Almost there!'

A thrill shot through her. Her torso was level with her hands now. If she could just reach inside the lining...

Her fingers shook from the effort it took to hold herself up. The chains dug agonizingly into her forearms, leaving her hands numb as the constricting metal cut off blood flow.

'So close... move, fingers! Damn it!'

Lana loosed a growl of frustration, nearly snarling as she fought through pain and tangled fabric. Her own body had no interest in contorting the way she needed it to, but she bent it to her will nonetheless, resolve overcoming duress as she finally gasped her pins.

"Yes! Got them!" she crowed triumphantly.

Footsteps stole her attention, dragging a startled gasp from her and breaking her concentration. Several people were heading their way this time.

'Crap!'

_________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Divus Crewel | Who's Your Daddy?

You weren’t inherently thrilled to hear through the grapevine that your mother had found a new lover. While you no longer feared the fantasy of the ‘evil partner’ you did fear the ‘here I am speech.’ With every new romantic partner each of them would catch you alone to either awkwardly declare their new mission to be your parent or that they were going to rob you of all your money; whatever was said though was shortly followed by them being dumped, reputation ruined, and a restraining order put in place. For as much as your mother got around you could never doubt her love for you. With every suitor she waited for them to slip up whether it was to you or to hired staff; she played no games. Keeping her suitors as nothing more than that to you and her staff claiming it would change if things got more serious.  So you were more than surprised when you weren’t being greeted with an untitled partner.

“Meet your new step-father, Divus Crewel!” 

What?! Step-father?! Already?!

You kept it cordial, briefly greeting him with a smile before hightailing it to your room. It won’t matter soon, anyway. You were moving out. Not because of your mother or this Cruel-dude but because you were tired of relying on other’s dime. All your life you’ve been gifted with a grand lifestyle that had you working early and living lavishly but coming into adulthood you realized the thing you really wanted was to work for you. All your life you’d played assistant CFO on top of school work, being a fake socialite, and business princess. It was all just too much. You had been saving preparing for this. You knew it wouldn't be easy but you also knew that that was what made it worth it in the end. You didn’t want to say anything until you were moved out in case your mother pulled some crazy stunt to keep you in place. Turns out that wasn’t the only one you had to worry about.

“Where are you going pup?”

Smoking on a pipe lounging in the velvet arm-chair your mother often perched herself in, Divus was looking up, accusatory, from his evening paper. 

“Out.”

You didn’t elaborate because you didn’t need to. This is just some guy swinging by trying to flex his father-bone so he can get on your mom’s will. You left before there was any protest, leaving to finalize your lease and officially be free. 

Half your stuff was moved and with your final moving driver on their way to your new home, you elected now would be the time to tell her. She would be resting by now possibly reading in her study. You opened the grand mahogany doors with a rising power, you were ready to fight for your right to work, your right for autonomy.

“Mom, you in here?”

It seemed so as her favorite plume was left on the desk and her shoes near the door. In her giant chair turned to look at the glass she had installed around it. She must have fallen asleep, you rationalize, comforted by the warm encasing rays of the sun. You walked to turn her around before waking her to find that she isn’t there. 

Nothing is there. 

It's then you realize that there is a draft coming in. 

But this room has no windows, just the glass pane wrapped around the hull of the room.  

There was a human sized hole in it. 

Bloodied and messy you shakily move to lookpast the glass to ground below.

There she is. 

Laying flat amongst the garden contrasting the green with her deathly crimson splatter.

_______

You were distraught. Devastated. That much was clear to anyone who saw you at the funeral. In the end you could not seem to let go of that golden crusted coffin clutching onto it like it was your life line. Even fellow nobility who typically would scoff at such displays of emotion couldn’t deny their own pity, as you were pried away by a fellow in black and white. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop crying even as the ceremony ended and you were carted back to your mother’s estate. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave, plagued by guilt and longing. You couldn’t pull yourself together until it came time to settle affairs. Now you weren’t in any of this for the money but you knew you would hate yourself even more if you let what inkling of your mother was left die out because of your inactivity. Alas one thing you found you must have gotten from your mother was your workaholic behavior; by diving into technical matters you could free yourself of the pain (at least for a little while).

“As it stands all of your mother’s affairs as aforementioned in the newly written will state that all her effects belong to her legal husband: Divus Crewel.”

How could this happen? How in your pursuit of freedom had you allowed her to sign everything over to some guy she was sleeping with? AND MARRIED TOO! You knew your mother best and even when you were sure she was off her rocker she always had the sense to care for you first, second if it was about her dogs. He must have orchestrated it. It all made sense. How in the span of six months had this man taken your mother from you in every sense of the word before the final month was up. Simple. He killed her.  But with no proof other than a motive you were left to depart back to your personally bought hovel where you had to live knowing your fight for freedom was what left you mother for dead and anyhting you could remember her by in the hands of a stranger.

“(Y/n), where are you going?”

The nerve. “If you must know I’m going home.” You cocked your head and opened your arms in emphasis as you walked away from him entering his security detail limousine. You were walking to take a bus or at the least you were trying as the limousine and surrounding security cars not-so-subtley followed. Stopping, you were near tears with frustration.

“What do you want from me?! Don’t you have everything you already want?!”

The tinted window rolled down to reveal Crewel wearing shades and a scowl of disagreement. 

“Oh young pup, I don't have what I want at all.” 

In lightning speed the door swung open and you were pulled into the lap of your step father. Being held in place by his steel grip on your jaw you sat on his lap like a confused child as he forcefully told the driver to, “Drive.”

He held you that way the whole ride adjusting you only when you ever seemed to shimmy off his lap from your struggling. Finally arriving home he switched tactics, pulling out a dalmationed patterned handkerchief and stuffing it in your mouth effectively gagging you. Before you had time to register to undo what he did he pulled out two collars locking your knees and wrists together. 

Unable to move, Crewel had no trouble carrying you out of the vehicle through the mansion to what used to be your mother’s lonesome master bedroom. Now it was the bedroom version of Crewel’s whole aesthetic. Tossed on the bed, you were scared watching him remove his fur coat, call in his dalmations, and remove one of his gloves. Jerked to lay over his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Now (Y/n) I’m sure you’re…disappointed with your mother’s slip up but as my child I will not have you fraternizing with your delusions of freedom.”

You tried to scream and yell at him. Who was he to tell you anything! And Disappointed?! You wanted to sock him in that pretty face of his. 

He seemed to get the sentiment squinting his eyes in a challenged haze before exposing your butt to the open air. You weren’t an idiot despite what online quizes would suggest you knew what this position meant to toddlers and people in ddlg fantasies. You did not want to be spanked! So when he raised his exposed hand you curled into him hoping he’d take your silent plea. He stopped as if hearing the constant begging you were doing mentally and insted let his hand prance around your lower back in warning.

“Despite your ‘secret’ plot for freedom succeeding I would have put a stop to it anyway seeing as it is what your mother wanted me to do in the first place.”

You made a questioning noise. What was he talking about?

“When she came to me with her worries about her adult child finally leaving I applauded her. Told her it was healthy and gave my full support but in another rant of hers I realized you had been working for her. All your time and childhood spent working away to please her, keep her afloat with a business you have no part in.

He played with your hair while he spoke. Softly rubbing your back as if he…cared?

“And in mild interest I proposed I step in as someone you could rely on to set boundaries of course mostly for her but nonetheless she took this as me wanting to…be in a relationship with her.”

He shivered with disgust making an icky feeling in your chest grow. It never is black and white is it.

“So we married in private claiming something about how ‘if I was this dedicated already surely I was ready for the real deal.’ I would have refused if I wasn’t already intrigued. You’d be surprised as to how much I can tell about you from camera footage and personal investigators.”

This time it was your turn to shudder but the present hold of a hand sitting on your head made you still.

“She had grand plans to get publicly married a month later but I realized that wouldn’t be needed. Just by your behavior I could tell all you wanted was rebellion, a break from the character you had been held to-” Ok maybe he understood you a lit- “like a child.” What. 

“I see it in my students often, you just want to have time to play without the responsibility of an adult, without the neglectful bearing of your mother. So I made an executive decision to eliminate the one that made you feel that way. Don’t look at me like that. No matter how old you are, you're quite the child to me and as your guardian I elect that you will not be burdened by adulting for as long as I’m here.”

He laid you on the bed dawning his fur coat once again.

“My pup, it's my duty as your father to care for your every need, including discipline.” He flicked your nose for emphasis with a chuckle and flip of his wrist his dalmations attacked you with kisses before fleeing from the room. 

“By the time I’m done dear we’ll have figured out how to even out that playtime and discipline.”

____________

By the time I was let out of that room again all my stuff I had previously moved out was moved into our shared room. Many other things had changed as well. The giant velvet chair that had been mother’s was now black and white accented by a blood red.  The office your mother had was closed off under the pretense that all those that were eliminated for the sake of my ’childhood.’ 

Other things had changed as well. 

Reaching for the door I could hear father’s steps and the clinking collars of his dalmations. I guessed he was sitting in his favorite chair blowing his pipe. 

“Where are you going, pup?”

So much had changed.

You doubt she would recognize you.

“To the garden, father. I know not to leave the grounds where I’m safe.”

Divus Crewel smiled. “Good girl. Don’t forget your running shoes.”

“Yes, father.”

“And a kiss for Papa?”

You hesitated if only for a second before trotting over to give a peck to his pale cheek before scampering off to get your shoes.

“That’s my girl.”

[barbiewritesstuff]

Delayed

-- To Steve Torrence, sorry for sullying your name like that, I’m sure you’re a decent guy but you’re the first one who came up when I googled racecar drivers from Texas soooo…. -- 

You were not sure how either of you were blind enough to run into each other like that but you did and you hated him.

He had been holding scalding coffee, surely that should have been enough of a reason to look at where he was going, but no, he had to be on his phone too.

Naturally, when you collided it spilled all over you. Your brand new shirt was ruined. You were almost more upset by that than by the fact that your chest had turned red and painful.

"Watch where you're going!" He had the gall to say "You made me spill my coffee"

"I made -- I made you spill your coffee?! This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been on your phone, you ass"

You looked at the damage. The white fabric had turned an ugly shade of brown, forming a stain that likely wouldn’t come out of the fabric, especially since this was a silk, hand wash only shirt anyway.

“What kind of coffee?” You ask

“A Vanilla Café Mocha”

“Wonderful.” You replied dryly. Not only did it contain syrup, but it also contained milk. Great. So you would be sticky and stink. “I’m going to need to change now. Merry fucking Christmas to me”

At least he had the decency to look ashamed when you looked at him again. Maybe it was because he had ruined your expensive clothes, or because he was definitely making you late for your flight, but the fact that he was handsome was making you so much more irritated. What right did this jackass have to look this good? With his bright green eyes, chiselled face, toned muscles underneath a tight white shirt. How fucking dare he. 

You grabbed your carry on and left for the bathroom. You dialled up your sister’s number once you found a stall to tell her about your misfortune and rooted through your case to find something, anything to wear. The case was filled with things that hadn’t fit into your big suitcase, so the options were limited. Eventually though, you found a tank top and an off-the-shoulder jumper you could wear. Hoping it wouldn’t stain the rest of your clothes, you threw the ruined shirt into the case and shut it again. Infuriatingly, when you got back to the gate, the man had found himself another coffee. He looked at you, you looked at him and you rolled your eyes so hard you could practically see the inside of your head. 

“Passengers of Flight 684387. We regret to inform you that your flight to Austin, Texas had been delayed due to a storm. We thank you for your patience.”

Could this day get any worse?

You found yourself a seat by the back wall and opened your case again to fish out a book. A storm likely meant a long delay. Once the case was opened, you also switched from your heels to a comfortable pair of tennis shoes. 

The book you had picked had been reviewed as a ‘thrilling detective story’ and a ‘hair-raising thriller’ but as you read through the pages, you found yourself disagreeing with both. The plot was flimsy, the characters lacked any common sense and despite being set in Austin, it lacked anything that made it recognisable as Texas in any possible way. 

You tried to power through for an hour, but by the time you abandoned you had only read about fifty pages of annoying exposition. Unfortunately, the bored sigh you let out as you closed your book and tried to think of what to do was rudely interrupted by the mountain of a man you had run into earlier.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” 

“Yes” You replied. He sat down anyway.

“I’m sorry about the coffee. Are you hurt?”

“No, but you ruined my shirt”

“That’s what matters to you? Not the second degree burns?” He chuckled. You were irritated to find that aside from the gorgeous face, attractive body and low, soothing voice, the man also possessed a wonderful laugh.

“Yeah well it’s not like anyone was going to look at my tits anyway, so yes, I’m pissed about the shirt.” You snapped. Usually, you wouldn’t dream of being so crass. Especially to a stranger, but the pain in your chest wasn’t improving your mood, and neither was the fact that the man had apparently looked down your shirt for long enough that he could tell how bad the damage was. 

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning” 

“It’s fine”

A silence settled over the two of you

“Are you from Texas”

“No. My boss works from there sometimes. This is a work trip”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re so crabby”

“No, I’m crabby because you spilled coffee on my expensive new shirt”

He chuckled

“Where are you from?”

“Why do you care?” You asked. He was looking at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. It was half amused, half… something else. “New York”

“Thought I couldn’t hear an accent” He said, sitting straight “I’m on leave for Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful” 

He laughed

“You know, if you want me to stop chatting, you can just tell me. Because I like a girl that plays hard to get, and I will keep trying”

“Wow, so you enjoy annoying a girl into accepting your presence”

“I don’t hear you asking me to stop”

You turned away from him with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest and wincing from the pain as you did so. 

“We should get you an ice pack,” He said. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see him looking straight at your chest. 

“You probably shouldn’t be wearing such a tight shirt on a burn” He said. Eager to change the subject to something other than shirts or burns, you scrambled to find something else to talk about. 

“What do you do for a living?” 

“I’m a navy pilot” 

“Is it nice?” 

“Can’t complain. I like the thrill, I don’t like the deployments. What about you?”

“I work as an assistant to Steve Torrence. The NHRA Top Fuel Dragster driver”

“Okay, you definitely have the cooler job” He turned in his seat to face you better, ignoring the pain he must have been feeling as he leaned against the metal arm rest of the gate’s uncomfortable chair. 

“Ha, I do not. I’m there for him to scream at when he loses and to fetch his coffees, his towels and call his wife when he can’t make it to date nights…He’s not half as nice as he seems like on tv”

“If I pay for the dry cleaning, will you let me meet him”

“Wow, and I thought you were growing on me”

“Damn, guess I ruined it” He smiled “How could I possibly make it up to you?”

“I’ll have a vanilla iced latte please” You said, leaning forwards with the most innocent smile you could muster. His face was too close for such a public setting, and yet, you didn’t mind.

“You’re lucky I was going to go anyway”

“Or what, flyboy?”

He froze for a second

“You’re lucky you’re cute, woman. I don’t usually allow people to call me that” He practically growled. 

“Go get my coffee” You said and pushed him towards the coffee stand

“I think you’re forgetting something” 

“Go. Get. My. Coffee. Flyboy” You said, standing tall so your faces were inched apart. He stood frozen in place for a second. His eyes glanced towards your lips and you instinctively licked them. You wished he would act on what he was thinking about. It was a strange situation to be in: two strangers in an airport waiting on a delayed flight, pushed together by a coffee and ruined shirt. There was an attraction, and you would likely never see each other again. Why not act on it?

“Iced vanilla latte, right?” He asked, a little breathlessly.

You nodded and watched him walk away. The airport intercom dinged, accidentally interrupting your thoughts. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is gate information for Flight 684387. Boarding will start in half an hour, please ready your boarding passes and move closer to the gate. Thank you” 

Part of you wanted to thank the heavens but the pang of sadness you felt in your chest told you that a larger part of you wanted the flight to be cancelled, if only to get to know your flight companion better. 

He came back five minutes later, both coffees in hand. 

“I’m in seat B5” You announced

“Well, ain’t this a twist of fate” He chuckled “I’m in B6. You know, I’m starting to think this was meant to be”

“Guess you’re stuck with me for the next 11 hours. I’m warning you now, I’m sleeping the whole way through”

“Hey, I’m happy as long as you’re not one of those people who removes their shoes during flights” He looked at another group of people. They had all lost their shoes thirty minutes earlier, wafting the smell of their stale socks around the room with every movement they made. 

“Oh, baby, I am. And you know what? I clap when we land too” 

He clutched some imaginary pearls and looked at you with the best pretend outrage he could manage. You laughed

“I’m not joking, though. I do want to sleep” You grew serious for a second, pointing a manicured finger at his face. 

“What, you think I’ll keep you up?” He winked. The man stared into your eyes for a second, an easy smile on his face. You glanced at his lips and he looked away, suddenly shy “I like you, I don’t think I’ve ever hit it off with someone so fast before”

“Me neither… It’s a shame this is doomed from the start though”

“Is it?” He sounded disappointed 

“Honey, I don’t know your name, I don’t know your number. But I know I’m only here for a week and you’ll eventually have to go back to your planes. We lead different lives, in different places. It won’t work out” 

As much as you wanted something out of this, you had to be realistic. Navy pilots weren’t known for their wide open schedules and heaps of free time, and your job kept you travelling often, at the mercy of a boss who thought everyone could simply hop into a plane and live somewhere else every few weeks. Still, part of you hoped you might just get a kiss out of it, a sort of parting gift from the gorgeous man you felt attracted to. You turned on your seat to sit straight forward. 

“Can’t we pretend?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see he was still facing you.

“What do you mean?”

“For a week. Just -- You and me, we give it a shot for a week.”

“There’s no point, Flyboy, I don’t think we’ll work out”

“Let me change your mind” He whispered “Please”

He moved impossibly closer to you, his hot breath fanning over the skin of your neck. You turned your head a little, subconsciously aligning your lips with his.

You sighed “Fine”

Almost as soon as the words had come out of your mouth, your lips were covered by his in a gentle kiss. It was almost dizzying and disturbing how addicting this felt.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

If the three Hook siblings went to therapy, either separately or together, how do you think it would go?

I've got a question in return: Who is dragging them there?

They're all too damn prideful to admit they need it. They don't need help at all, they're hardened pirates, they don't have any feelings to talk about and they've been on their own since they were kids, in case of Harriet taking care of her crew and Isle kids as a pirate Captain while Harry was Uma's first mate.

Obviously they don't need any help.

They so do.

Sure, Harriet could theoretically force her younger siblings to attend, but that would require her to admit she needs it too: she'd need to come to that conclusion at least silently, as she probably wouldn't say it out loud.

Anyway, lets assume she does attend: she's the one most likely to see reason and try to cooperate. Of course, that includes this conversation:

Therapist: „I noticed there is history of anger issues in this family. Have you noticed something similar in yourself?“

Harriet: „No. I have my temper under control.“

Therapist: „That's great! So, what do you do when you are stressed? To relax, unwind, something like a hobby?“

Harriet, smiling: „I wrestle crocodiles.“

Therapist: „Wha-... I'm sorry, what??“

Harriet: „I wrestle crocodiles and I'm damn good at it! What part of that did you not understand?!“

Harry would not be thrilled about attending therapy.

It's not that he doesn't want to get a grip on his mind, but why on earth would he trust this therapist? A person from Auradon, and Actual Adult Authority figure? They never do anything good, do they?

But hey, I hope he recognizes they mean good and let them help him.

Also, he'd just say the most horrifying things ever:

„These pesky buggers [rats!] were getting into everything eating through our sweaters and shoes, deep diving in barrels of rice.“ from Uma's Wicked Book.

And „Nothing says I'll give you a second smile as a razor sharp hook does!“

And just shrug it off, like, no big deal, that happens. It's not like anyone I care about died, is it?

And he's having the hardest time opening up out of the three of them.

CJ, yeah, she needs it. Not like she's gonna admit it or go quietly. I imagine she refuses to speak for quite some time in the office, before she breaks, because this person is being so nice and keeps saying she's safe and it's okay to express your feelings, and nothing is going to happen to you here, CJ, and no, you don't owe me anything, I don't want anything from you.

She just starts yelling and crying angry tears because she doesn't understand what on the seven seas is going on.

Oh, and she, too, like her older siblings, does have some very disturbing things to share. She, too, thinks it's perfectly normal to dodge your parents hand [very sharp hook] whenever said parent is angry.

Oh, and the therapist has to hide any ticking clocks from their office before session with Hooks. For the sake of everyone's sanity.

And group session?

I imagine they'd just keep distracting eachother, teasing eachother and rapidly descending into sibling-arguments. It may or may not involve several well-meant and very graphic death threaths. Possibly in several languages. You know, to spice it up a bit.

(It has been five minutes since they've spoken in English. The therapist is fairly certain they've been planning Frollo's demise on behalf of his daughter for at least one of them. In french, before the younger girl suddenly switched languages mid-sentence. The volume of the conversation is steadily increasing. The therapist doesn't know what to do. But they're going to reach out to Claudine Frollo and offer her sessions.)

The poor therapist starts crying as soon as the siblings leave the office.

Then they start drafting revised therapy plan. And demand higher paycheck.

I'm sorry if this is inaccurate, I've never been to therapist, I have no idea how it should go, so, please, forgive me if this makes no sense?

[hb-writes]

Fresh Mouths

Summary: Set in Series 4. Michael has been sent out to camp for his protection from the New York Mafia, but maybe what he really needs to be protected from is himself. Or maybe from the Gold family.

A/N: ‘Mint leaves’ was a prompt for a writing challenge I was never able to complete because writing is hard sometimes, but seeing as it was already half-written and there’s not nearly enough Bonnie content, I thought it a shame not to share.

Content Warning: Just your typical PB content and Bonnie Gold and his sister being a couple of smart asses to Michael.

Characters: Bonnie Gold, Michael Gray, Rosella Gold (OC, Bonnie’s sister)

Find it here on AO3 if you’d prefer to do your reading over there.

--

The fact that the very same grandparents Michael Gray felt ashamed of for their traveling lifestyle were also something of royalty was a bit of knowledge he took straight to his head, somehow relishing one detail while sneering at the other.

He seemed to absorb all he could from their status, or perhaps drain was a more apt term, siphoning any residual power afforded to him by the connection, letting the thrill of their lingering historical influence fill every part of him. Michael inhabited the meager campsite he'd been allocated to as if he were a king himself, as if everyone else were so obviously below him, just as he'd done in rejoining his birth family. He assumed all of the allowances that came with being a Shelby in Birmingham even though he wasn't one, not by name anyway.

Michael seemed inclined to do the same here.

Bonnie simply smiled at the show. He called the man 'Mister Gray' with only a bit of ridicule dawdling in his voice, only a bit of extra emphasis set into those first two syllables, a hollow little display Michael probably assumed to be a show of deference or respect.

He wouldn't have been able to fathom the notion of it being mockery.  

Bonnie stayed behind to make sure Michael got settled. In truth, his decision to stay was more about his sister though. Bonnie felt inclined to make sure his older sister did something close to behaving herself, and to stay pacified her incessant begging, all of it turned on him when she realized she'd have no luck in getting their father to let her go back to their home alone. Not with all that was going on in Birmingham. She was quite insistent that the very least Bonnie could do was stay on a few days if that was the case.

So at Rosie’s insistence, Bonnie stayed...because it didn’t do well to cross his sister and because he would have only been half-joking if he said that Rosie was as formidable an opponent for their delicate Mister Gray as the New York mafia was.

Bonnie wasn’t rightly sure who he was protecting.

Either way, he kept most of the comments swirling in his mind to himself, not openly encouraging or indulging his sister's playful little remarks in response to whatever it was the newcomer said or did that they all found strange. He couldn't quite contain it though, the little bit of smile that traveled his eyes or the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth when his sister did her worst. He couldn’t help it. Bonnie was merely human and Rosella was clever, and more to the point, there was a fair bit about Michael Gray that the two youngest Golds found odd.

Rosie had assembled a list of inquiries to draw the oddities out, focusing on Michael's aversion to the mud caking his dainty leather shoes and the way he gripped his cane as if someone was poised to take it off of him, and now, the way he was glaring a bit at the spit-roasted game about to be set before him.

Rosie picked up on Bonnie's emphasis on the title quickly as well. She used the same indulgent pronunciation though Bonnie's sister held little of his subtlety. When Rosie said it, he could almost hear the curtsy in her tone, the deep sarcastic bow laid before their newfound clown of a king. Bonnie counseled restraint, but Rosie had never learned the skill, leaning instead on her deceptively sweet smile to keep her out of trouble.

"Here you are, Mister Gray, sir."

Bonnie longed to roll his eyes at Rosie's newest addition, or maybe he was more prone to the gesture because it was clear Michael thought Rosie's reverence was genuine. Expected.

Rosie smiled at Michael and then glanced toward her brother as she set the plate down, muttering off the meal's contents in Romani just because she knew Michael hadn't a clue what any of the words meant. Bonnie imagined that while she prepared the meal for well over an hour, she'd been anticipating she would be able to share a laugh with her brother at Michael's expense. The only evidence of Bonnie's enjoyment sat restrained within his eyes, but it was enough for Rosie to let out a soft rush of breath through her nose.

Bonnie allowed his mouth to tug up at the corner before he nodded at his sister, a quiet, ‘Thank you, Rosella,’ sending her away before the giggle he could see on her lips decided to spill out of her mouth.

"Fucking what is this?"

Rosie turned back at Michael's words, but Bonnie nodded her off, his gaze remaining on his sister until she was across the camp. By the time he turned his attention back to Michael, he'd gotten a thorough look at the plate, his upper lip curling though Bonnie thought he should've been grateful seeing as Rosie had given him a meal fit for an actual king, heaping portions and all. 

It wasn’t as though Michael had never seen a plate of rabbit meat before, but perhaps that he’d never seen it prepared quite this way. Bonnie thought he was lucky that she didn’t deliver it along with the head or maybe one of the feet.

Rosie had a bit of a morbid skill for preparing dinners in such a way that the game seemed to retain a certain identifiable element. She was quite frankly just scarily good with a knife, but Bonnie often wondered if her meat preparation wasn't more of a bit of protest on Rosie's part because she loved animals more than she did people.

She rarely ate meat herself, almost always exchanging her portion for Bonnie’s vegetables when their father wasn’t looking, even still.

Today though, it was just meant to tease, to needle the man who already thought the lot of them to be savages.

“Never had rabbit before, Mr. Gray?” Bonnie raised an eyebrow, longing to laugh at the glare Michael leveled him with, but he kept his features soft, settling Michael with only a look of genuine curiosity.

"Oh, you mean the heart?" Bonnie stole the small organ from Michael's plate, piercing it with the tip of his knife. He chewed, smiling as he swallowed it down. "Delicious. Rosie's specialty."

Michael squinted at the plate, his nose scrunched up at the offering. Rosie hadn't given him utensils and he seemed put off by the idea of touching the meat and potatoes in front of him.

"How am I'm meant to eat this shit?"

Bonnie snorted a bit, leaning back and plucking a leaf from the greenery behind him. He reached across to hold it out for Michael. 

“Here, Mister Gray.”

Michael turned the same look he’d given to Rosie’s offering down on the leaf punctured by Bonnie’s outstretched knife. 

“You expect me to survive out here off a fucking leaf?” 

“I don’t care if you starve out here subsisting on nothing but all that pretentious grandstanding, but I expect you to cleanse the filth outta your mouth and have a little respect for my sister and the people who are protecting you from what I’m sure would be a rather unfortunate sort of circumstance if you were still back in Birmingham.”

Michael swallowed, the sour taste of rage rising within him. It mixed with the metallic flow of blood in his mouth as he bit back on his tongue, his eyes finding the Gold girl across the campsite. She smirked at him for a moment, her arms settled over her chest before she turned away. 

Bonnie cleared his throat and Michael’s gaze shifted back to him. No matter how infuriated he was with the Golds, no matter how much the heat of rage stung his cheeks, Michael knew he had to keep up the show. He had to pretend as if a return to Birmingham scared him even though he’d made a deal to ensure his safety, to ensure he and his mother were kept out of it. 

“Don’t fret, Mr. Gray. It’s only mint,” Bonnie offered, “and I suggest you freshen your mouth with it because if I hear of you speaking like that in front of my sister again, an unfortunate sort of circumstance may just end up finding you out here after all.”

[miss-musings]

Comparisons between TBL’s Lizzington and The Bride and Bill from “Kill Bill”

How have we never talked about the similarities between these two before? I did a quick Google search, and I found a gifset comparing the "don't marry that guy" scene from the respective shows, but that was about it.

There are soooooo many similarities, it physically hurts my soul.

Guy/gal couple have a very meaningful, trusting relationship (which is explicitly romantic and sexual in Kill Bill; the jury is still on out The Blacklist)

There is a significant age gap between the guy and gal; in some ways, he is her mentor as well as her love interest

Both of them live in a violent world and/or take part in a violent profession that involves tracking down and (sometimes) killing people

Gal finds out she's pregnant, distances her self from guy in an effort to keep her baby safe

In her efforts, gal fakes her death

Guy is absolutely devastated to lose her

Guy tracks down gal inadvertently while looking for the people supposedly responsible for her death

At some point, gal intends to marry a second dude, and first guy objects to this marriage; and because of some violent circumstances, gal never marries the second dude

Gal gives birth to a baby girl

Guy helps to raise the gal's daughter while she is ~gone~ (in Kill Bill, Bill raises his daughter B.B. while the Bride is in a coma; in TBL, Liz fakes her death)

Guy and gal have a confrontation where each of them is angry at what the other did; yet deep down, it's evident they both still care about each other

Guy at one point is accused of/says he's the gal's father

There are plenty of differences too, don't get me wrong.

But, while the whole "Red is Liz's dad-CONFIRMED" thing from the S4a finale frustrated me to no end, it's good to keep in mind that there was a scene where the Bride pretended that Bill was her dad, even though the two had been in a relationship and she was pregnant with their child.

I think this also gives some perspective on why Liz has seemed so mean and vicious toward Red. Even if the "Agnes Reddington" theory turns out to be false -- and, as awesome as it would be, I highly doubt the writers would go there -- Liz would still feel incredibly protective of Agnes from Red.

Liz and Red had been in a relatively good place in their relationship. They built up a great level of trust, understanding and affection while she was on the run in Season 3a. Then, in Gregory Devry, she's clearly frustrated that he isn't going to take a break and that the fight against the Cabal must continue. But, it's only after she finds out she's pregnant that her frustration and venom against him REALLY escalates.

***

Before that strip turned blue ...I was a woman, I was your woman.

I was a killer who killed for you.

Before that strip turned blue, I would've jumped a motorcycle onto a speeding train.

For you.

But once that strip turned blue ...I could no longer do any of those things.

Not anymore.

Because I was gonna be a mother.

But why didn't you tell me then, instead of now?

Once you knew, you'd claim her. And I didn't want that.

Not your decision to make.

But it's the right decision, and I made it for my daughter.

She deserved to be born with a clean slate.

But with you, she would've been born into a world she shouldn't have.

I had to choose.

I chose her.

***

That, ladies and gentleman, is the dialogue -- as best I can tell -- from the confrontation between The Bride and Bill once she finds out that B.B. lived and that Bill raised her, and as Bill is finding out why The Bride faked her death to begin with.

Even operating under the assumption that Agnes IS Tom's daughter, the conversation still applies quite well to the Lizzington relationship. While she definitely disagreed on his methods and decisions, Liz showed time and time again that she was loyal to Red and cared about him and his well being. Granted, not to the same level that the Bride did with Bill, but still... it works.

In Lizzington's case, Liz's affection for / loyalty to Red seems to have gone out the door the minute she found out she was pregnant.

Red, well-meaning as he was, did try to "claim" Liz and her child, in a certain way. He definitely tried to insert himself into her life. He offered to give her money for her child; he put a security team across the hall; booked pregnancy massages, bought her a couch, etc. So long as Liz was in Red's life, that meant that Agnes was in his life as well. Liz knew first-hand that people had used her to get to Red; who's to say they wouldn't use Agnes to get to her and/or Red?

She rejected Red's "dirty / blood money." She wanted Agnes to have a relatively normal life. Fair enough. As venomous and hateful as she's been toward Red since Season 3b, I can't fault her for that much.

In the end, Liz chose her daughter over Red.

And, now, Bill gets to tell the Bride "the truth."

***

And for the record, letting somebody think somebody they love is dead when they're not is quite cruel.

I mourned you for three months.

And in the third month of mourning you... I tracked you down. I wasn't tryin' to track you down. I was tryin' to track down the fucking assholes I thought killed you.

So I find you...and what do I find?

Not only are you not dead...you're getting married to some fucking jerk.

And you're pregnant.

I overreacted.

You overreacted?

Is that your explanation?

I didn't say I was gonna explain myself. I said I was gonna tell you the truth.

But if that's too cryptic, let's get literal.

I'm a killer. I'm a murdering bastard. You know that.

And there are consequences...to breaking the heart of a murdering bastard.

You experienced some of them.

Was my reaction really that surprising?

***

Gah, if this isn't Red, you guys, I don't know what is.

Granted, in TBL, Liz and Tom decide to get married while Liz is pregnant and THEN she fakes her death. (Whereas in Kill Bill, it's the other way around.) Either way, Red was devastated and hurt by both decisions. He warned Liz not to marry Tom -- begged her, even. Said it wasn't in her best interests, that he wouldn't change. Now, it's been a while since I watched Kill Bill Vol. 1, but I feel like Bill told The Bride that she shouldn't marry the other dude because she was a killer and she would always wake up and be a killer. It would be hard for, if not impossible, for The Bride to be satisfied with a "normal life."

(In some respects, I would argue the same thing for Liz. We saw in the pilot that she's drawn to the criminal mind. Not saying she couldn't also be a stay-at-home mother, but would she really be happy with that life, long-term? I feel like she would miss the action, drama, and psychology of her time on the FBI Task Force. Anyway...)

Now, as for the fake death, Red is completely distraught -- a man without purpose -- after Liz's death. His saving grace, he'd hoped, was to be a part of Agnes' life, but Tom seemingly puts the kibosh on that. So, he goes to Cape May and then he sulks at Dom's house. It's not until Aram says they need help tracking down Liz's killers that he decides to come back.

Additionally, Red has told Liz (and others) time and time again that he is a killer. He's a monster -- someone who does bad things; even if he has the best of intentions, he still kills people.

After Liz died, what was the first thing we saw in the Cape May episode? Red presumably killed Nick, her doctor guy. He also went on quite the killing spree to find Susan Hargrave and then Kirk, all in an effort to get revenge for Liz's supposed death.

But, after he reunited with Liz, what did he do? He kept his distance. Yes, he offered her help and protection, and so on, but he isn't nearly as close or as unguarded with her as he had been previously. Even now... he gets Liz her much-desired pardon, and what does he do? He lets her find out on the TV and hangs out in his car. Doesn’t even give her so much as a phone call. This was a man who was thrilled to buy her an apartment and called her seemingly every half-hour she was waiting for her trial in 3x10.

All in all, I just wanted to point out the similarities between these two shows, and wonder at whether this means The Blacklist will follow in the shoes of Kill Bill, or if it's going to do its own thing. (It's going to be the latter, let me tell you right now.) Still, it's fun to speculate.

Anyone have any thoughts on this? Wanted to add to this meta?