#a penny for your most unhinged thoughts

[kryptonite-cutie]

I am

✨bored✨

Send me the most unhinged things to my ask box. Amuse me me enough and I might actually respond

[thewulf]

Wild Child || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: The four times Jake catches you in precarious situation plus the one time you catch him in one.

A/N: A request from a friend.: I’m sooooo sorry if your name is Heidi (You’ll see why). Really unedited but I wanted to get you guys something out. Please enjoy!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 6,200+

The First Incident

A wild child is how your family always described you. You liked ‘free spirit’ better. Wild child made you sound unhinged. You didn’t like to consider yourself unhinged per say but you couldn’t stand to be tied down to anything. One minute you were a white-water rafting instructor at the Grand Canyon, the next you’re teaching people how to paraglide in the Alps. You craved adventure. Loved it more than anything in the world.

The thought of a corporate job holding you down made you gag, literally. You knew this lifestyle wasn’t maintainable per say but you just couldn’t seem to give a damn. You let the wind blow you to your next opportunity. That’s how you ended up in San Diego as a water sports instructor. You’d been working as a ski school coach in Colorado when you got word help was needed on the West Coast. You approached the guy who needed help and the rest was history. You were on a plane to San Diego the next day with a job running the little shack on the beach.

You loved it. It might���ve been your favorite job to date. You got to hang out in the sun all day and rent Jet Ski’s, paddle boards and kayak’s to people. Your favorite days were the ones you got to do jet ski tours on. You’d spend endless hours on the open ocean having the time of your life. Your least favorite days were the ones when you had to do maintenance on all the equipment. Usually, Doug or Jim your coworkers would take on changing the oil out on the jet ski’s but naturally they were both off when one needed to be done.

It didn’t take long before you found yourself in a less than ideal situation. You’d forgotten to put the oil cap back on before cranking the engine on. Well, the entire contents of oil you just dumped in the chamber was now all over your face and clothing, the engine spitting it back at you.

“Fuck!” You cried jumping back away from the machine. Ripping off the safety glasses you used your hands and clothing to try and get the oil off your face. Without much success you paused trying to assess the situation.

You realized you had two options. Jump in the freezing ass Ocean or run into Penny’s place. Deciding on the latter option you pulled your shirt off leaving you in your bathing suit. Luckily, most of the oil was on your shirt avoiding the rest of your body.

It was only five so the bar had just opened, “Penny!” You called loudly for the woman as you walked into the Hard Deck.

“Y/N!” She called back before turning to you. When she did her face displayed every emotion. Her smiley face turned to shock as she took in your oily black appearance. Then it turned to confusion as she took in your entire appearance. You must’ve looked like a horror story walking into her bar. No shoes, no shirt and certainly a problem.

“The damn jet ski blew up on me. Marty’s cheap ass won’t upgrade them. It’s certainly nothing that I did!” Crossing your hands over your chest with a pout on your face making your way over to a bar stool you gave her an overly exasperated look.

The last and final emotion that crossed her face was with hilarity. She couldn’t stop laughing once she realized it was more than likely a self-inflicted casualty, “Did it now?”

Nodding your head, you gratefully accepted the rag from her. Beginning to wipe away some more of the oil from your face you heard some commotion from the front door.

“Penny!” A male voice you hadn’t recognized rang through the bar just as yours had seconds prior.

Her brows stitched together in confusion as she had just seen that same scene play out with you not a moment before, “Jake!” She replied, just the same as she had with you. Spinning around in the bar stool you were thankful the rag was covering your mouth because you were sure it would have dropped right then and there. The most devilishly handsome military man just walked through Penny’s doors, and you had your eyes set right on him.

He too, had his eyes set right on you but you had a sneaking suspicion it was from the engine oil that caked your face and upper body, “You have a little something here.” Jake pointed to his forehead giving you a cheeky smirk.

“Oh, thanks.” You rolled your eyes, “So helpful.” Dramatically you took the damp rag wiping your forehead free of motor oil, “Did I get it?” You quipped back.

He nodded smiling, enjoying how much of an attitude you already had with him. It made the game way more fun when they didn’t get off on the right foot, “You got it.” He nodded his head down, “Jake Seresin. Don’t think we’ve met.” The stupid cheeky grin never left his face. Only growing wider when he saw your irritated expression grow.

Quickly, you ran your hand along the other side of your face making sure to coat your hand in oil before accepting the handshake. His grin broke out into a full smile seeing your play. A low chuckle reverberated from his body as your hand coated his in oil, “Sorry, I thought you said I got it?” Giving him a wink, you snatched your hand back from his grip. Easy to do since they were both coated in the slippery liquid.

He tipped his head in your direction, “Fair play ma’am.”

“That’s all I do, Mr. Seresin.” Taking the rag, you fully wiped off your face. You knew your hair was coated but opted to throw it up in a bun until you’d be able to shower it off. Penny gave you a new clean one while she handed Jake a napkin after seeing the exchange between the two of you.

“Did you need something Jake?” Penny interrupted the two young adults who were seemingly very into each other. Penny could tell. She always could. It didn’t help that she hardly knew either of you. You’d just started at the shack two weeks ago, only occasionally crossing paths. You worked early and she worked late.

“I did.” He nodded looking back at you, “But for some odd reason, I can’t remember what that was.” He threw you a wink taking a seat next to you.

You wanted to roll your eyes, but something drew you into him. Like you wanted to know just a little bit more, “Cheesy.”

“She doesn’t like cheesy, noted.” Jake leaned back looking you over. He’d noticed you were just in your swimsuit, not really mad about it.

“Well, I didn’t say that did I?”

He took the beer Penny had poured from him, “Noted.”

The Second Incident

“No, no, no!” You yelled out while you running around the beach trying to collect the umbrellas that got pulled up by the rather strong gust of wind. You’d gotten three before the fourth got caught in another gust and took off.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You sighed before jogging along the water hoping to catch it before it went out into the ocean. You loved this job, but you didn’t love it that much to go swimming for it.

To your delight the blonde boy from the bar caught it before you did. Coming out of nowhere he grabbed the end of it before quickly closing it. After catching up to him you took the awkwardly large umbrella from his hands, “My hero! Thank you. Might’ve saved my job.”

He smiled back at you almost immediately, enthralled you were chatting with him so easily. It wasn’t that often he came across a woman that could hold her own with him. Natasha being one of the rare few. He had a feeling you were just like her with your quick remarks and witty comebacks, “You’re welcome…You never told me your name.” He frowned looking at you expectedly.

“I didn’t?”

He shook his head, “No ma’am.”

“Hmm.” You began to walk away knowing he’d follow right after you. You were oddly good at this game. Truth be told you hadn’t a clue where your confidence came from. Even with men as attractive as Jake you knew how to wind them up and get them to do your bidding. A unique skill not only reserved for the men. You mom always said you’d make for a great politician because you were a master at manipulating people to do what you needed them to do. She always made it sound cooler than it was. But you sure did use that skill to your advantage in these situations.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?” He caught up to you with ease. Your smaller frame and the gigantic umbrella slowed you down.

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” You gave him a wide grin already seeming to know how to reel him right into you.

He paused for a moment before making his way back to you, “I’ll go ask Penny.”

“Go for it. That’s cheating but it’s fine.” You knew military men had a weird thing with cheating so again, you used it against him.

“That’s not cheating!” He took the umbrella from you, tired of seeing you struggle with it while he knew he could carry it so easily.

“Thanks,” You smiled up at him before heading back to the shack. A nasty storm appeared to be rolling in that wasn’t on the radar that morning. You wouldn’t have set out the umbrellas had you known it would be coming in so quickly, “But it so is cheating!” You couldn’t drop it either.

“In what world?”

You shrugged, “Mine.”

“Fine.” He nodded his head placing the umbrella down in the shack, “What’s it going to take for me to get your name?”

Returning the smile while tapping your finger on your chin you answered him, “I don’t know yet Jake.”

Slumping over slightly he looked a tad defeated, “Well this is impossible.”

“Giving up already Mr. Seresin?” You challenged him. Another thing you knew military men loved, a good challenge.

Shaking his head vigorously he turned the frowned back into that charming smile you already loved, “No, didn’t say that did I?”

Shaking your head, you could only answer, “Fair play military boy.”

“Navy.” He corrected you. Not that you were wrong per say but you weren’t specific enough.

“Navy boy.” You nodded at him, as a touché, “What do you do for the Navy anyway?” You wanted the conversation to continue. Jake intrigued you. Not many people did. You’d come across all sorts of fascinating and downright boring people as you traversed the world. But few captured your attention longer than a few hours.

“If I answer, will you give me your name?”

Shrugging you answered, “Maybe.” You respected the little game he was playing. It was fun. Fun intrigued you. Fun kept you engaged with him.

“I’m a pilot.”

“Ohh, you get to fly fast planes?” He’d really got you now. Planes had always fascinated you. You loved adventure more than anything in the world, but planes always seemed to be off limits, especially fast ones.

“Something like that. We call them jets.”

You nodded along enthralled by the admission, “That’s really cool Jake.” It was a high compliment from you and Jake knew it. He knew he intrigued you as much as you intrigued him. You wouldn’t have tolerated his presence if you felt otherwise. Something he picked up on quickly, you spoke your mind and you weren’t afraid who heard. A rare quality he rarely saw in people.

“It is. I love it.” His smile softened for the first time around you. You noticed how the cheeky grin downturned ever so slightly into a more genuine smile. One you knew that likely didn’t come around often.

“Y/N. That’s my name.”

“Y/N.” He repeated back, “That’s beautiful.”

“You should tell that to my mother. My dad wanted to name me Heidi. She saved me from that childhood torture. Bless that woman.” Smiling you leaned back against the shack.

Jake smiled a bit wider taking in the small bits of information you were willing to share about yourself. He had a feeling you were a closed book masking being an open one. He understood, he was the same way. An extroverted persona on the outside and a hidden softer side that only came out around people that wee trusted. There was nothing wrong with this per say it was just exhausting. Having to put a wall up 24/7 wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed.

“Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to Y/N.”

You giggled. A sound you hadn’t heard in so long. The last time you felt this stupidly giddy from a boy’s comment was ages ago, back in college when you were tied down, “Maybe Mr. Seresin. Just maybe.”

The Third Incident

The day was brutal. The sun beamed down at you all morning and afternoon. You could hardly sit in the shade because almost all of your equipment was rented out. It wasn’t a bad thing. You were raking in tips. But it made for a long and exhausting day. That paired with no air conditioning made you feel like you were starting to go a little crazy.

So, when you turned over the key in your vehicle and it didn’t start you all but lost it. You let yourself yell once and shed a tear out of frustration before heading into Penny’s place. Lucky for you she opened up a bit earlier on the weekends to attract more customers from the beach who wanted to day drink.

You spotted the woman quickly before making a beeline straight towards her, “Penny, please tell me your mechanic of a boyfriend is around.”

She frowned, “No, he’s out of town. What’s up?”

“Damn.” You sighed taking a seat at the nearly empty bar. You hadn’t seen Jake and his Navy buddies sitting in the back as you made your way straight to the bar. But he saw you. He always noticed you. The simple chats started turning deeper as both of you tip toed around what you both wanted but neither wanted to admit, “This one’s going to cost me. Car won’t start. Hopefully it’s just the starter or the battery.”

Both of you were terribly afraid of commitment for one reason or another. But sometimes that spark that you find can’t be put out. The flame couldn’t be diminished. It needed to be explored. The spark was slowly growing into a flame and neither of you wanted to extinguish it but neither brave enough to let it grow. To let the flame, turn into a fire. For that meant commitment. And commitment was terrifying.

It made sense for Jake. He was always on the move. Always going from one base to the next. Early in his career he would try but it got too hard. It was hard to fall for someone and then have to move because he was reassigned to a new base. It was way easier being an asshole who was there for the hookup than commit to someone. But it was different now. He’d completed all his goals. Done what he wanted to accomplish as a pilot. If he ever wanted to be an admiral, he needed to clean up his act and excel as an instructor at Top Gun. Show Naval leadership he was meant to be a leader too.

It made sense for you too. You were in an amazing relationship throughout college. You’d met a boy early on in your freshman year and stayed with him through your senior year. He’d even proposed. But then he got sick. The sickness took him away from you. So, you ran. Your wild child was let out. You couldn’t be tied down again. You couldn’t go through that again.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry Y/N. How about a beer on the house?” She smiled as sweetly as she could. She knew how shitty the feeling was. Unreliable vehicles were the worst. Lucky for you it wasn’t a far walk home worst come to worst. The only downfall of the lifestyle was never having enough money. A tow was certainly out of budget. It needed to be fixed in the lot. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Sighing and lifting your head from the bar top you gave her a thumbs up, “Thanks Penny.”

Her eyes widened spotting the blonde pilot making his way over to you. Penny was many things, but she wasn’t dumb. She certainly wasn’t blind. She didn’t know Jake well, but she’d heard about him. Heard all the rumors of the fuck boy that he supposedly was. She’d yet to see it. Over the last few weeks, he’d had nothing but eyes for you.

Penny had also gotten to know you a whole hell of a lot better as you spent the last bit of your day here all too often now. There were usually hardly any customers and Penny lent the best conversation you’ve come across in San Diego. So, you started coming to the Hard Deck every day after work. She realized quickly that you were damn near oblivious to Jake’s feelings. Always flirting back but never agreeing with Penny about his intentions.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Jake had begun using those sweet terms of endearment a few days ago. Finally finding the courage to make his feelings a little more obviously known. But of course, you hadn’t a clue. It didn’t mean anything for you. Your way of deflecting, naturally.

“Jake, hey.” You straightened up a bit, “Car won’t start.”

He frowned, “That’s no good. Let me take a look.”

Your eyes peaked up in curiosity, “You know cars?”

“I know jets. How different can cars really be?”

Laughing you nodded, “I’m pretty sure they’re really different actually.”

“You have no faith in me darling.”

“Oh, have at it. Just don’t break it any further.” You smiled taking a sip of the beer. He stood for the stool waiting for you.

Giving him a quizzical look, he continued, “After you.”

“You were being serious?” You set the glass down. It wasn’t very often that people went out their way to help you. That was another problem with the nomadic lifestyle you’d become accustom too.

“As a heart attack. I’ve got some tools in my truck. I can figure it out.”

Hopping down from the stool you gave Penny a wave. She gave you a knowing head shake waving you off. Leading Jake to your car you popped the hood to give him a look.

“Can you turn it over?” He asked. Giving him a nod, you tried to start the engine only to be met with silence, “Just a dead battery. Let me go get my truck for a jump start.”

Another few moments and a jump start later you were met with a started vehicle. Jake parked the truck next to yours. Getting out you were too afraid to turn it off before driving to a car shop to swap out the battery.

“This time you’re my Knight in Shining Armour.” You gleamed up at him as he made his way to the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I’m honored, really.”

“Thanks, fly boy. I gotta go get a new battery now.”

“Fly boy?” He smirked.

“Mhmm, heard you and your friends talking the other day. The girl said it and it stuck. I like it. Fly boy.”

He opened your car door, “Then you can call me fly boy. If you like it.”

“Didn’t know I needed your permission.” Again, you challenged him. You always seemed to challenge him. Making him second guess that smoothness that always seemed to work. Not on you though. You got the better of him all too often now.

The Fourth Incident

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You grumbled taking a seat in front of the knotted mess before you. You’d let the boys take the parasail up only for them to come back to you with a sheepish grin on their faces and a very tangled parasail before them.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Doug, usually your favorite co-worker replied seeing your very annoyed expression.

“It’s fine… just go help the customers. This is going to take me a while.” You let out a frustrated groan. At least it was a mindless task.

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded and quickly left, not wanting to get another earful from you.

“They certainly don’t make this job easy.” You sighed leaning back against the shack. You didn’t have a particular talent for untangling things, but you knew the boys certainly didn’t have the patience to even try. So here you were stuck with a loopy mess of ropes and cables.

“You always talk to yourself?” That now-familiar voice of the blonde pilot spoke out startling you from your focus.

Jumping slightly, you slapped his ankle, “You always stalk me?”

“I do not.” He scoffed sliding down the wall to sit down right next to you. He was close but neither of you made the effort to move farther apart.  Not even a little. He let his thigh rest against your bare one. It was a hot one, so you were without shorts, just bathing suit bottoms. He was testing your boundaries and you were more than happy to welcome him right on in.

“I didn’t say I was complaining about it.” You quipped back.

You earned a hearty laugh from him. A sound you’d learned to cherish over the blossoming friendship you wished would turn something more, “You never cease to surprise me Y/N.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” You grinned up at him momentarily forgetting about the mess laid before you.

“It’s a great thing.” He answered quickly not wanting to place doubt into your head, “You’re incredible. You know that right?”

Heart stuttering you snapped your head back up to him. What was he saying? What was he trying to imply? Was he trying to get you all sorts of flustered because it was certainly working. You’d always been awkward when receiving compliments so when Jake threw that one at you it made you want to disappear right then and there.

“If you think so.” You nodded your head gingerly making sure to focus your attention on the rope and not the gazing eyes of the man you’ve been crushing on a little too hard.

He took your hand in his, “I know so. You’re beyond fascinating. Every time I get to know a little bit more about you, I’m infinitely more intrigued by you. Rooster called me out on it, said I never seemed to shut up about you.” He admitted. He wasn’t all too sure why he was telling you this. It was easy with you. He wanted to tell you things. Things he’d never dream of sharing with a girl before. But with you it felt so natural. So effortless.

It wasn’t often somebody could make you blush, but Jake was doing an exquisite job of it. A fiery blaze crested up your neck settling on your cheeks. Thankful it was warm out you could just blame it on the sun, “Rooster?” You questioned. You’d yet to meet any of his friends but that didn’t seem like a terribly common name.

“Bradley. The one with the stash. It’s a call sign. We all have one.” He smiled knowing just how odd it sounded when he said it out loud.

“What’s yours?” You asked wanting the conversation to go on. He too intrigued you. You seemed to get lost in conversation whenever you ran into him. It too felt natural with him. Like two puzzle pieces just waiting to be linked together.

“Hangman.”

You smiled wondering where in the hell that could’ve come from, “That’s an interesting call sign.”

“You think?” His eyes stitched together in curiosity.

“For sure. I wonder what mine would be? I’m not cool enough though. I’d never make it.” You admitted to him looking away afraid you’ve overstepped.

He studied you up and down as if trying to come up with one on the spot. Not a second later he responded with one, almost as if he’d thought it through before, “I’d call you Bird.”

“Bird?” You grinned curious as to why.

“You’re a free spirit. Like a bird. Floating through the air making it look effortless even though you’re working harder than ever. You have a certain ease to you that makes you so free.” He paused collecting his thoughts, “And you’d make it just fine. You’re more levelheaded than half the guys I train on a regular basis.”

“Oh, that’s frightening Jake. I’m not even that levelheaded!” You laughed feeling a bit concerned over the state of who was employed by the Navy.

“I know.” He winked at you letting his leg full press into yours. The closeness let goosebumps ripple down your legs sending a shiver over your body. It frightened you how easily he affected you both mentally and clearly physically, “It’s terrifying who they let fly those things huh?” He laughed taking a cable in hand beginning to help you.

“Suppose you have to be some level of crazy, eh?” You giggled picking up another cord after untangling the first.

“You bet sweetheart.” He turned his body more towards you, pressing his thigh further into yours. You were sure you were about to explode from the contact. Hopefully it didn’t look like it. You had to play this cool. You’ve been doing so damn good over the last few weeks. But he was making it hard, very hard, “So.” He continued before pausing again giving you a look as he picked up another tangled cable.

“So.” You responded by looking back at him. He was giving you a look you had yet to see from him just yet. Almost nervous?

“Where are you off to next? Doesn’t seem like you stay in one place for too long.”

You shrugged, “I’ll be honest. I don’t have a clue. I like it here though. Usually something just falls into my lap taking me onto the next thing…” You smiled reminiscing through some memories before continuing, “But like I said. I like it here. The weather is amazing, and the people are even better.”

You really hadn’t thought about moving on. Not yet at least. It felt like you’d finally gotten into a rhythm here. Normally that’d terrify you. But it felt so damn right here. Like something was begging you to stay. That something might have been sitting there in front of you. Even if you’ve only been here a few months and known him less than that it still felt right. If there was one thing you always did was trust your gut and it was telling you to stay. Screaming at you to stay. It was a foreign feeling for you, but you welcomed it. The nomadic lifestyle was utterly exhausting and somewhat lonely. You were ready for change as you approached your thirtieth year.

He cracked another smile at your last statement, “Yeah? Even better than the Swiss?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded looking up to him again. You could’ve melted right then in there if humans could. The look he was giving you could make a strong man weak, “Way better than the Swiss. Much cuter too.” You chimed in making sure he knew you were talking about him.

“High praise.” He smirked leaning his whole body just a bit closer. You’d usually protest as it was so fucking hot out but this was a dream for you. Jake was practically on top of you this time. It must have looked funny from a distance. Two sweaty young people lost in each other’s eyes almost on top of each other on the beach.

“It’s only the truth.” Your face was so close to his. God you’d give anything to just kiss him. But you wouldn’t dream of making that move. That’s far too bold even for you. And what if he didn’t want it? You’d never be able to live down that kind of embarrassment.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m planning on staying for a little while too. I’m tired of jumping base to base. I just want to stay somewhere for a while you know?”

“It’s tiring.” You agreed with him, “I get it.”

“Would you stay here?”

You nodded your head vigorously, “I would. For the right reasons.”

Licking his lips while looking at yours he mimicked your head nod, “Good to know.”

The Fifth Incident

Standing waist deep in the ocean you wanted to be annoyed but the man standing in front of you was making that very difficult to do so. His cute little grin and snickers only made you laugh along with him, “Which one’s the gas again?” Jake asked leaning back on the jet ski you were trying to get him to take out.

“Right hand is the throttle, for the fourth time Mr. Seresin.” Playfully rolling your eyes you walked around the jet ski to do the final checks ensuring it was up to snuff before he took it out on the ocean.

Grinning from ear to ear he knew he had you. He had you wrapped around his pinky finger. Not that he was any different. You had him whipped and you weren’t even dating yet. Instead, the two of you were dancing around deeper emotions every time you saw one another. And the two of you sure did see each other as often as possible. After he helped you untangle the mess that was the parasail the two of you made it a point to see each other every day. He’d come find you while you were wrapping up work or you’d meet him at the Hard Deck.

You’d even gone so far as to meet a few of his Navy friends, at his request. Being far too nervous and not having a clue what the relationship was with the blonde pilot you were nervous to meet them. He wouldn’t take no for an answer though, bringing them to you instead.

As unshy as you were with your opinions it was becoming harder and harder to have the ‘what are we?’ conversation with him. You were having far too much fun in this stage that you didn’t want to ruin it. You started to have legitimate feelings for the flighty boy. It terrified you a bit. The last time you allowed yourself to feel things it ended horribly.

But even you had to admit you were exhausted of running. Running from feeling things. Afraid to commit to somebody. Afraid to tie yourself down.

“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.,” Wiggling his eyebrows he leaned over towards you as you finished up the pre-op checklist.

“You’re welcome, Hangman.” This time you were smirking, loving to throw him off his game whenever you could. Initially refusing to use the call sign you decided to only throw it out there when you felt like you needed to one up him.

Eyes raised in curiosity he broke out into a grin seeing your expression. He’d never felt like this before. Felt so effortlessly comfortable around somebody. Like he knew you’d never judge him for a thing. You’d be there for him no questions asked. The two of you just clicking like nothing he’d ever experienced in his lifetime. He had to admit it terrified him a bit. But he was also excited. To try something new. To dive into a relationship with you headfirst. So long as that’s what you wanted. That’s why he was playing it so cool. He knew how much of a flight risk you were if he moved to fast. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you before he even had the chance to try it out. So, he decided to let you get comfortable and hopefully make a move. If you were too afraid to do so he’d do it eventually. He had nothing but time with you though. So, he wasn’t going to rush it. Terrified to mess it up before it started.

“So how long do I get out there darling?” He was testing your boundaries now. Wanting to see how you’d react.

Your heart rapidly picked up pace hearing that term of endearment escape his lips knowing that you could really get used to hearing it, “Thirty minutes. Then I have paying customers booked. So don’t be late.” You eyed him making sure he got your message loud and clear. He’d been begging you to go on one, but you’ve quite literally been booked out. Busy season was mad. But you had a customer cancel on you last minute which gave Jake the opportunity.

“Got it. See you soon pretty.” He shot you a wink before speeding off. Making sure to splash you with the throttle. Flipping him off you rung your hair out as you walked out of the ocean.

You’d only noticed he’d been gone for a little too long when the next clients walked up. You searched the ocean spotting Jake drifting a little bit further out than he should’ve been. Hopping on the reserved Jet Ski for staff you took off in his direction.

“What the hell Jake? I said thirty minutes.” You frowned at him pulling up beside his weirdly quiet one.

“I would’ve darling but well, it died on me.”

“Hop on.” You sighed annoyed the stupid thing gave out on you. It always reminded you of how cheap the dude who ran this place was.

You hooked the tow line up to it, getting good at it now, before towing everything in, “Looks like you caught me at a bad time.” You felt him chuckle as he pressed his chest into your back. Taking full advantage of being the passenger. You were thankful you couldn’t see his shirtless chest, that’d surely send you over the edge now.

“At least it’s you this time.” You laughed along with him. You felt as his arms tightened around your waist. Pulling him all that much closer to you.

Much to your chagrin you reached the beach before you knew it. Jake waited around as you got the family off on their adventure. Approaching him with a grin on your face you sat next to him at the picnic table by the shack, “Have fun at least?” You asked.

“Absolutely. Any time I get to spend with you is a good time.”

Pushing his side lightly you hid your gaze away from him, “Cheesy.”

“Only for you.” He snaked his arm around your waist. Not forcing you to look up to him but letting you know he had you.

Another goofy grin graced your features. He always knew what to say, “You’re sweet to me Jake.”

He nodded, “Because I like you. A lot. You know that right?” He admitted straight out. He let you go at your own pace, but he wanted you to know now. He knew. He adored you. He’d never felt this type of way with anybody before you. He thought he had but he realized he hadn’t. This was something special.

“You do?” Confusion then joy broke out from your face

“I do.” His smile turned up even further seeing the recognition cross your face. Had you really not known? Or were you in your own head like he had been so many times before?

“Like more than friends like?” You asked to confirm.

“Way more than friends.”

“Oh, wow.” You turned away heart racing. Sure, your face was as bright as a cherry tomato it was now or never. He’d laid it all out on the line for you. You could do it.

“Hopefully that’s a good wow.” Smirking he leaned a little closer to you.

It felt like your heart stopped for a moment, “It’s a very good wow.”

“Yeah? Then you’ll let me take you on a date?” Jake didn’t often look nervous, but he looked terrified now. He hadn’t expected this. Not even in the slightest. But he’d roll with it.

“You’d want to?” You returned your eyes back to his.

“Oh darling, I’d love to.” He reassured you taking your hand in his.

“Then I say yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You that excited?” You teased him.

“Sweetheart, I’m more than excited. Whatever that is.” Tossing you a wink he stood from his seat, “I’ll pick you up at six. Can’t wait to see you pretty.”

[sea-owl]

@swallowedbyfandom :

Can we get people scared of Lady Whistledown and lulled with false sense of with security by her pretty, pretty husband. I just would really like a trophy husband Colin and Pen's arm. I think it would be funny because we all know he is unhinged.

This reminds me of my one post where the polin kids' future spouses basically treat Penelope like the head of a mafia family and ask her for permission to marry her kids.

Imagine an au where polin is running Lady Whistledown's empire together. Penelope is the one who started and is the head of the operation. Colin serves as her right hand and, to a degree, her bodyguard. He is perfectly happy with this, too. His main concern is making sure his wife is safe. He can't stop her. He's tried, so he's doing the next best thing. The majority of the time, they're disguised as a lady's maid and a valet to the Whistledown couple, but there are also times where they go as Lady and Lord Whistledown.

Whistlwdown's trade has always been secrets, and information. It originally started as gossip passed around the ton but then expanded the more secrets Penelope began to learn. Soon she got requests for certain secrets from potential buyers willing to pay a pretty penny.

There are rumors about Lady Whistledown like she's been nicknamed a snake charmer, and it's best not to cross her for you never know what secret she knows. They say one stroke of her pen and she has the power to control your life however she pleases.

The rumors for Lord Whistledown have been kinder. They say he's much more friendly than his wife, easier to talk to. They say if you truly want to get to Lady Whistledown you need to go through her husband first.

For many this is probably the most dangerous trap Lady Whistledown has set.

Lord Mason, a rather young thing and new to his title, made his way towards the meeting spot. He was told he was a fool going to Lady Whistledown, London's most notorious source for secrets. If anyone has the information he needs, it will be her.

"There has to be some irony here," Lord Mason thought as he set his sights on the church he would be meeting the Whistledown couple at.

The church was empty except for two people sitting in one of the pews. A man and a woman. Both were wearing cloaks and masks, making it hard for the young lord to find any identifying features about them. The air about them, though, was different from each other. The woman sat straight with her head held high, a calm confidence radiated from her. Meanwhile, the man was much more relaxed. Leaning into the woman he sat next to in an almost playful nature.

There was a chair in front of their pew facing where the sermon would be held. It would put whoever sat in the chair right in front of the couples' line of sight.

Lord Mason took his seat, and a sense of danger hit almost immediately. It felt like he was being studied.

"Lord Mason, I presume?" A soft feminine voice rang out.

The young lord tried not to flinch. "Yes," he answered.

"My the rumors did nor say the young lord was just barley out of Eton. You poor thing to lose your father so young."

Lord Mason found himself about huff but the turn in tone, and the hand that reached out to ruffle his hair, it was such a maternal thing to do. How long since he was touched like this? At least before Eton, maybe even longer. But even as the move was meant to calm him there was that sense of danger that would not leave him alone.

Lord Mason peaked from the corner of his eye. The hand in his hair belonged to the woman. The man still did not turn to him, his full attention on the woman.

"You have a request for me?" Lady Whistledown asked.

Lord Mason nodded. "My older brother, or rather my cousin, I know he has done or is doing something that will ruin our family. We are already suffering enough due to the loss of my father. We can't go through much more."

Lady Whistledown hummed. "And what makes you so sure your cousin is up to something?"

The young lord found himself glancing to the Lord Whistledown, who gave a nod as if urging him to continue. "He has been sneaking out, breaking mourning. He claims to be out drinking or seeing a mistress, yet he does not smell of alcohol nor a woman. Add that on top the money he has taken out recently and I know he's up to something."

Lady Whistledown hummed again. "It appears your cousin does have a secret to hide. What is his name?"

Lord Mason found himself hesitating. Was he really about to set one of the most dangerous women in London on his cousin? The young lord thought back to all the times he had tried to talk to his cousin before this. His worry about the sneaking out and the lying. His cousin, who was more of a brother, never lied to him before, so why is he doing it now? "His name is Mr. James Mason."

Lady Whistledown nodded. "Thank you Lord Adam Mason. I have something I need to look over and then we may take our leave."

Adam flinched. He never gave his Christian name.

Lady Whistledown stood up from the pew and made her way to a different part of the church. Her slippers made no sound as she walked.

She was gone, Adam should be able to breathe easier so why does he feel like he's still in danger?

A hand rests on Adam's shoulder and it's the only thing stopping him from jumping from his seat.

"Hey, it's OK. I know nerve-wracking to meet such a powerful lady."

Adam looked over. Lord Whistledown's attention was fully on him now. Adam couldn't see his face under the mask, but he felt like he was smiling. Adam felt himself mostly relax.

"She has quite the reputation," Adam said.

Lord Whistledown nodded. "That she does. A fact my wife takes pride in. She's worked so hard over the years and to see her work come to fruition it just gives her the most adorable smile."

Adam chuckled. Who knew the scary lady of secrets was this adored by her husband. She can't be that dangerous then right? No man wouldn't love his wife this much otherwise.

Adam spends the next few minutes with Lord Whistledown in easy conversation until Lady Whistledown returns.

She whispered something in her husband's ear, who nodded and stood up. Lady Whistledown takes his place in the pew.

"Lord Mason I do believe we can come to a deal. You are aware of my fees?"

Adam nodded, handing over the first payment. "I shall have another ready should you find any information on James."

Lady Whistledown nodded. "Very good."

The two shake on their deal. Her touch now, it feels warmer? Softer? The feeling of danger, he no longer felt it. Why was that? Was it his talk with Lord Whistledown?

Lady Whistledown stood up from the pew and made her way to the exit where she was joined by her husband. They talked and Lord Whistledown looked back at Adam.

Adam felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. The feeling of danger, it was back.

Oh yes, Lady Whistleddown earned her nickname as the snake charmer, but what a lot of people don't realize is that one of her snakes is her husband.

[microwave-core]

A Handful of Headcanons

These are, uh, kinda unhinged.

I love Nemona with my whole heart and soul, but I almost always write her (and you, dear reader) as being insanely oblivious because I just can't help myself. Every time I saw her in my Scarlet playthrough all I could think was “You wanna kiss me so bad you look stupid” because that is exactly what she’s like.

Her friends have been telling her for the past Arceus knows how long about her crush, but she never understood where they were coming from. Her obliviousness is completely impenetrable, it’s insane. They’re all pulling their hair out by her inability to recognize her own damn feelings.

Like, it’s to the point that her friends think she’s worried about people’s reaction to her being gay. Penny will casually tell Nemona that everyone was fine with her being gay or bi or whatever but Nemona’s just genuinely a dumbass when it comes to romantic feelings. 

(It’s funny, really, because anyone that would have a problem with her sexuality would never voice it lest they get their ass kicked but I digress.)

But when she realizes it? It’s fucking over. Her entire perspective has changed and she is now a new person. She now spends her nights staring at the ceiling plagued by thoughts of you. She could never fall asleep when thinking about holding your soft hand, or playing with your hair, or feeling your lips against her own. Occasionally, her thoughts become unsavory, and it never fails to make her feel like a complete creep because she shouldn’t be thinking of you like that.

When around you, she manages to act pretty normal. She’s too distracted by you to be overthinking her own feelings. The most she’ll do is just… look at you, but kinda intensely.

She’s just in so much awe at your existence, how you could look so beautiful, so elegant, just sitting there. Your every action sets her heart ablaze. Please give her affection, she deserves it even if she can be inexplicably stupid at times.

Cynthia would be such a wife-guy, it’s unreal. I have given this much thought. Sometimes I think about those alignment chart memes and everytime I do I think about the champions in regards to how they would treat their partner and, without fail, Cynthia and Leon fall into the wife-guy section and I will not elaborate further (that is a lie I will elaborate if asked). 

People across the world look up to Cynthia as a pillar of strength, as a serious badass who could curb stomp you with a single look. These people have no idea how much of a nerd she is, but they sure as hell know how much she loves her wife. 

Every interview she’s ever in, she will bring you up. No matter how much you might beg or plead her to, to avoid the embarrassment of her unabashed declarations of love, she will not stop. She cannot stop herself even if she wanted to.

She is the definition of relationship goals. All of her interviews have comments like “get you a girl who will talk about you like how Champion Cynthia talks about her wife” under them. 

And she absolutely adores your embarrassed reaction to them, too. You just look so adorable when you’re flustered. Don’t worry, she won’t tease you that much, that’s not really her style. She’ll always make it up with hugs and kisses and chocolate and anything else your heart may desire. She loves you more than anything else, after all.

Geeta is lowkey a sugar mommy, no matter what. Certified Girlboss™ over here is so busy, which she’s not inherently against as a workaholic, but it does prevent her from seeing you.

And so whenever she does get time for you, she will spoil you. Gift giving is her way of showing affection, at least when it comes to you. She’s practically made of money, please spend as much as you want. It’s her treat and you deserve it. Don’t even think about pulling out your purse or wallet, she will not let you pay. 

During quiet moments in her day, she’ll pull up a store on her phone and scroll until she finds something you’d like. She’ll be scrolling through fancy-smancy stores during an important meeting or when talking to someone like Nemona or Clavell because she just thought of the most darling thing to get you and she needs to find something suitable this instant. And she’s not slacking off or not paying attention, either, she knows exactly what is being said around her.

She’s also shameless. On more than one occasion, someone’s seen her looking for fancy, incredibly expensive lingerie. They’re incredibly embarrassed about it, but Geeta doesn’t care. She is in no way flustered or worried, just amused by their reaction.

If you don’t live together, she’ll totally send packages to your house or apartment. She’ll usually tell you, but sometimes she just doesn’t and suddenly you're opening your door in the morning only to be greeted by several packages. 

Not so much of a headcanon as much as it is a concept, but Courtney and Shelly pining for the same person. That’s it, that is the thought,

These two are their own brands of unhinged, and they would absolutely rip the other to shreds if it meant winning your heart. Courtney is just batshit insane. She’s feral. She’s completely unhinged and would go to any lengths necessary to get you by her side, no matter how much she has to dirty her hands to do so.

Shelly is also unhinged, but she’s far more calculated. She’s part of the brains behind Team Aqua, and so she’s not going to take action without considering all her possibilities first. She’ll go to the same lengths Courntey will go to, but she'll consider all her actions before making a commitment.

There is very little you can even do in this scenario. They would choke each other out with their bare hands if it meant having you. Don’t think this can end in dating both, they would never tolerate the other. They’re just going to continuously fight each other, try to one up each other, until one of them snaps. 

Drasna is severely slept on. I don’t even have a grand vision to put here. There is no idea, there is no headcanon, and there is no scenario. All you get is the concept of Drasna.

Just like… look at her. She borders on milf and gilf, she is decorated in dragon bones, she is sweet and kind and could kick your ass. She is gentle and loving but changes into cold and savage when in the midst of battle. 

She could curb stomp your ass any day of the week, and you (by which I mean me) would thank her. Not that she ever would. She cares about you too much! If you did battle her, she would attempt to go a bit easier on you, toning down the intensity a bit, but it slips out every now and then.

Also, do you think she’d have fangs? That’s how all the dragon tamers are in my head, so it’s not really Drasna specific. Actually, don’t answer that, she totally does because it’s my fanfic and I get to make the rules.

Anyways, Drasna would totally live in a cute little cottage. She’s from Celestic Town (apparently), so she likely prefers a quieter, humbler lifestyle. That is to say, you get to live with her in a cute little house that’s surrounded by nature and is also covered in dragons. You get to unwind at the end of the day by sitting in your cute little garden with her, and isn’t that just the dream?

…. How do we feel about gilfs? Like, in general. Milfs are pretty unanimous, I think. We all love a hot mom, but what about hot grandmas? I say that like the Pokemon grandmas are hot which I don’t think they are (except Cogita, obviously) but like… is there a consensus on this?

I don’t know man, when I look at Agatha and Bertha and Opal it’s just like… that’s a grandma. She’d bake you cookies and ask you about school or work. Agatha has an implicit risk, as you will be jumpscared by her ghosts. She’s also a little bitter and would totally just bitch about the people that get on her nerves. She’s old, she doesn’t care about anything anymore.

Bertha is the kind grandma who always asks if you want to help her make the cookies (she will not be offended if you decline). She’ll ask how your life is and will give you so much useful advice. She’ll also tell stories from her youth, and she looks so happy when she does it. She’s just nice, that's all I have to say.

Opal. Oh Opal. This specimen already has the cookies baked when you show up at her door unannounced. She knew you would be coming. Come sit down and complain about your life. She wants all of the gossip. Tell her everything, especially about your love life. Be careful about what you tell her, though, because she will not hold back when giving you her opinion.

Sorry I couldn't help myself. I had to write this out. I’ll go back to the regular headcanons.

Regular is a strong word. I desire Sada carnally. She is broken and I can fix her, okay? I have thought about this a lot, and I would subject you to all of those thoughts in incredible detail if I was strong enough to truly capture her image.

Real talk though. Sada is hesitant to fall in love again. She’s gone through a messy divorce before, and doesn't want to go through that kind of thing ever again. But she couldn’t help but fall in love with you, which leads to one of two things happening.

There’s the realistic option, that her love for you will make her work even harder towards finding paradise, which basically just leads to how the game plays out. She spends more and more time in the crater until she decides to move into it and eventually gets got by Koraidon, but you don’t know that. It would suck, but you would not be totally alone as you would have Arven there, going through the same thing. At the very least, he’ll turn out slightly better (until he has to tell you that Sada’s been dead for Arceus knows how long). 

But that’s sad, so I present to you the ideal option, that her love for you makes her realize how damaging her workaholic nature has been. She’ll be able to take a step back from her work, from the time machine and Area Zero, and just be able to live in the moment with you and Arven, like a normal family. She starts working as a regular professor. Hell, she might even start teaching at Naranja, where she’ll get to tease Arven everyday.

Anyways, regardless of what happens you get to be Arven’s stepmom, and that makes it worth it because he deserves a good parental figure in his life. I love him, he is my son, and he deserves the world.

Speaking of milfs: Lusamine. Hear me out. Technically, there are three types of Lusamine. There’s Sun and Moon Lusamine who is completely unhinged and selfish and will stop at nothing to get her way. There’s Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon Lusamine who is also slightly less unhinged and will stop at nothing to get her way, but she’s doing it for a greater cause (although it’s still kinda selfish but sometimes it’s the thought that counts). Then there's the anime Lusamine, who is actually pretty normal. Not unhinged or feral or incredibly selfish, just a mother trying her best for her two kids. 

All three of them are near and dear to my heart, but, to me, Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon Lusamine reigns supreme. She’s the best of the other two, where she’s both unhinged and trying to be a good mom (after the Ultra Necrozma business goes down, anyways).

When she becomes more adjusted, not worrying about saving Alola from an unworldly entity, she’s incredibly supportive, both to you and to her kids. Speaking of kids, if you don’t support Lillie and Gladion with your whole heart, she will cut you off. Her family is important to her, especially after losing Mohn.

Writing this, I realize that I might just be invested in giving these kids better lives, but whatever. Lillie will open up to you pretty quickly. She wants to do all kinds of mother-daughter activities. Please just spend time with her, she will love you forever. Gladion takes a bit longer, but he’ll cave to your kindness in time. He won’t admit it, though, he has an edgy persona to upkeep.

Or maybe you're into an evil bitch and you want selfish and crazy Lusamine, which is also understandable. She’ll do anything for you, and I mean anything. She would be pretty controlling though, and she might love the Ultra Beasts more than you, but that’s the price you’ve gotta pay if you want her unhinged.

Oh and also, please don’t look into Ultra Wormholes or Ultra Beasts. No matter what version of Lusamine you’re into, just don’t. Lusamine would never recover if you disappeared like Mohn did.

I’ll end this with Marnie, because I like her. She’s kinda quiet and maybe even a little shy, but she’s adorable and loves you with her whole heart and soul. Her quiet nature, though, is lost when you start doing… basically anything. Whether you’re battling or studying, she’ll be your number one cheerleader.

When you’re battling other people, she’ll be hyping up your every move. You're her girlfriend, you're obviously up to snuff, and she’ll remind you of that fact constantly. She’ll even bring in Team Yell to help out. She wants the entirety of Galar to know how strong you are. 

But she’ll cheer you on quietly, too. When she senses you're overworked or stressed, she’ll be bringing you blankets and hot tea before you can even complain about your problems. And when you’re settled in, she’ll bring you curry and huddle into your side. She’ll even get Morpeko to cuddle up to you. Feel special, Morpeko won’t even do that to Marnie, and she would complain if it wasn’t making you feel better.

If you’re battling against her, she won’t openly cheer you on like normal. She’s a gym leader, she can’t just go throwing a match because she loves you! But she’ll compliment your strategy when you're doing well. Team Yell won’t be cheering for you, though. 

Also, Piers would be totally chill with you. He couldn’t be intimidating even if he tried, he is a literal twig. He just wants his sister to be happy and safe, and mans knows you would never do anything to hurt her. Besides, someone has to tell you Marnie’s embarrassing childhood stories and baby photos.

[istumpysk]

We always question that when Jon fell in love with Dany in show. I have another confusion since when Tyrion fell in love with Dany. And if he was so in love with Dany why he was suggesting to Sansa that they should remain married.

Beats me!

His relationship with Daenerys on the show never felt authentic to me, and like you said, it often contradicted the dynamics between him and Sansa.

This is the problem you create when you allocate parts of Sansa's storyline (the Jon romance, and the Tyrion love triangle) to Daenerys, while also needing to acknowledge the established history between Sansa and Tyrion.

That half-baked, last-minute insertion was complete nonsense. I'll eat rocks the day George turns his beloved Tyrion into an obedient lapdog, who is in love with his unhinged master. That would just make him another Jorah or Barristan, and what's the point of that? It would be redundant, and his perspective wouldn't bring anything new to the table.

Tyrion is the guy who mocked the idea of a savior.

Other slaves insisted that the guards were lying, that Daenerys Targaryen would never make peace with slavers. Mhysa, they called her. Someone told him that meant Mother. Soon the silver queen would come forth from her city, smash the Yunkai'i, and break their chains, they whispered to one another. And then she'll bake us all a lemon pie and kiss our widdle wounds and make them better, the dwarf thought. He had no faith in royal rescues. - Tyrion X, ADWD

Tyrion is the guy who became deeply concerned when he heard a red priest preaching her gospel.

Shouts erupted from the crowd. Women were weeping and men were shaking their fists. I have a bad feeling about this. […] Haldon Halfmaester had spoken of using the red priest to Young Griff's advantage, Tyrion recalled. Now that he had seen and heard the man himself, that struck him as a very bad idea. He hoped that Griff had better sense. Some allies are more dangerous than enemies. - Tyrion VII, ADWD

Tyrion is the guy who can recognize the psychology, fear, conditioning, and absence of alternative options that lead to a slave wanting to remain in bondage.

"Ghazdor's collar," the old man boasted. "Known him since we was born. I'm almost like a brother to him. Slaves like you, sweepings out of Astapor and Yunkai, you whine about being free, but I wouldn't give the dragon queen my collar if she offered to suck my cock for it. Man has the right master, that's better." Tyrion did not dispute him. The most insidious thing about bondage was how easy it was to grow accustomed to it. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

Tyrion is the guy with firsthand experience of slave owners infantilizing their slaves, to reinforce paternalistic authority and reliance.

"Bold Yollo. Bright Penny. You are the property of the noble and valorous Yezzan zo Qaggaz, scholar and warrior, revered amongst the Wise Masters of Yunkai. Count yourselves fortunate, for Yezzan is a kindly and benevolent master. Think of him as you would your father." […] "Your father loves his special treasures best of all, and he will cherish you," the overseer was saying. "And me, think of me as you would the nurse who cared for you when you were small. Nurse is what all my children call me." - Tyrion X, ADWD

x

"Let them come. In me they shall find a sterner foe than Cleon. I would sooner perish fighting than return my children to bondage." - Daenerys IV, ADWD

Despite my low opinion of him, I don't believe he's capable of being swept up by Daenerys.

Daenerys isn't his type, Sansa is. Tysha is. Shae is. Sex workers are. Penny would be, if he was sexually attracted to her. He seeks relationships where he can exert control, foster dependency, and provide protection and care.

Daenerys is too much like his sister.

[missbunnybunny]

♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•

Do you or anyone you know happen to know a Widow? Is so call 1-800 how is the fucking did the tv catch fire? I left for one minute, how?? You might just be entitled to compensation.

Widow is just a warning all on herself. That's my warning for yall.

☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆

Please like,reblog, or boost this post, THANK YOU!

♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•

Author-san: Yes, hello police? This one right there, arrest her. Why?, cuz she belongs in a Psychword no questions asked.

Dispatcher: Alright, will be there in 10.

Widow: y que te hice?- what did I do?-

*Author-san pointing it out*:

Why?

Widow: see, this time it wasn't me and cómo diablos pasó eso?-how the fuck does that happen? -

Widow: also in my defense, it's fucking Walmart?! That shit is normal!

Author-san: mmm...bueno. -fine-*not fully trusting her*

Widow would 100% use the excuse that " she to cute for jail."

☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆

Widow: look everyone i found a new pet!

The pet:

Ghost: no.

Soap: Why is it runn' like that? No! Stay awayyyy!! * runs away*

Gaz: come to florida they said. It'll be fun they said. Fuckin' florida man Disney typa shit.* shaking his head in disappointment*

König: maus......* his having a internal heart attack*

Widow: his cute. Can i-

Price: no, put it back where you found it. * growing rapid grey hairs, every time Widow does this type of shit.*

*Florida people this a normal day*

* other states and countries, Florida what drugs are you taking????*

*Yup folks, this is the daily life of poor 141. F in the chat for this poor man.*

☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆

*Everyone having normal thoughts*

Widow:

* the second one is a mood honestly*

♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•

*Gaz and Widow having fun while on cleaning duty*

*Widows fav song comes on*

Widow: my song is onn!

Gaz: haha. Well ya having fun dancing.

Widow: yup.

*Widow starts singing*:

Money, money, money

Must be funny

In the rich man's world

Money, money, money

Always sunny

In the rich man's world

Ghost: well, that explains a lot.

Soap: huh?

Ghost: when i asked her to join, she asked how much it paid.

Soap: Ah!

Widow: money, makes the workd run boys. And if am gonna retire, I best get paid a pretty penny.

*In the background*

All the things I could do

If I had a little money

It's a rich man's world

It's a rich man's world

A man like that is hard to find, but I can't get him off my mind

Ain't it sad?

And if he happens to be free, I bet he wouldn't fancy me

That's too bad

So I must leave, I'll have to go

To Las Vegas or Monaco

And win a fortune in a game. My life will never be the same

Widow: money is second to könig anyways.

König 😳: maus.. your 1st on my list.

*Widow goes back to her madness🤪*

☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆

Author-san: Widow may have some screws lose and most likely be more unhinged than ever. But one thing is true she got her priorities DAMN STRAIGHT.

Thank you, everyone, for the love on my other posts 🙇🏽‍♀️.

♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•°♡•

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 3

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiments throughout, abusive parents

Author’s Note: Thank you for the love and just a reminder my requests are always open so feel free to drop me one, I do enjoy writing the occasional oneshot to break up a long series like this. 

Hello I’m a fucking idiot and I’m editing this days after posting because I didn’t realise I had asks turned off, they are now actually turned on. Promise.

Part 1 / Part 2

---

Your father could, as it turned out, force you to scrub all the floors on your hands and knees with a nail brush; every time you thought your parents had played their most unhinged punishment card, they managed to pull something even worse from their tightly buttoned-up sleeves. You scoured the old linoleum for hours while they watched you obsessively. You'd never regretted underestimating the misery-causing potential of this hell-house more, your parents had swiftly gone from strict but mostly harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. The pain in your knees would've bothered you but it was nothing compared to the agonising cramp in your forearms or the stiffness in your back, all of which were gradually edging you closer to a final, definitive snap.

The snap came after four hours without a break or a sip of water. Lucky for you, your parents were far too out of touch to consider confiscating your cell; neither of them believed it was necessary to have a phone other than the landline, so they tended to just forget that you had yours on you at all times. All you had to do was wait for the right moment. As soon as your father had retired to the front room to get his daily fix of Christian TV and your mother had scuttled off briefly to check on dinner, you whipped out your secret weapon and hammered out a message.

You were right, I need to get out.

You stared intently at the screen, eyes periodically flicking up to the doorway, anticipating your mother walking through at any second- you hadn't been this nervous since you smuggled a copy of Twilight into the house to read under the covers after bedtime. After what felt like hours, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

Never in your life had you leapt from being so deeply miserable to being so ecstatic in such a short time, you felt like your motor suddenly kicked in. Ignoring the searing pain in all your limbs, you jumped up from the floor, sprinting across the hallway and up the stairs for what you hoped was the very last time. Your rickety bedroom door almost flew off its hinges as you shoulder-barged your way through and started grabbing handfuls of clothes to stuff into your rucksack. The daunting sound of your parents scurrying around downstairs prompted you to move even faster, yanking your phone charger out of the wall and cramming in your childhood piggy bank before zipping up- you'd need every single penny you could scrape together after this.

Bursting into the hallway, you saw your furious father standing guard at the top of the stairs, your mother positioned at the bottom with her spindly arms crossed. The sight of your overstuffed bag prompted the rusty old cogs in his brain to begin whirring as he pieced together what was happening. You braced yourself for a screaming match but, just as your jaw unclenched and fell open, the faint rumbling of a motorbike engine sounded in the distance. You smiled, finally realising that he wasn't even worth the argument; this was happening, and it was happening now.

Your father put up less resistance than expected as you pushed past him and raced down the stairs. You felt your mother's venomous gaze burning into the side of your face but you didn't grant her the dignity of eye contact, as far as you were concerned she hadn't earned a final goodbye. The front door swung open, a wall of fresh air hitting you and allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day- since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals. You glanced up the road expectantly and almost burst into tears when you saw Bucky skid round the corner. Waves of relief echoed through every muscle in your body, your shoes thumping against the stone as you scrambled to meet him, the sound of your parents calling your name fading into the distance more and more with every step.

He pulled up and you leapt on to the back of his bike, wrapping your arms tight around his waist. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. The machine roared back into life and, without a second's hesitation, sped away from the house. You didn't turn to look back at your parents. The last thing they saw as you disappeared down the road was a spattering of grey smoke, your shirt flailing around in the wind and Bucky, flipping them the bird.

—

The bike shuddered to a stop outside an old, dilapidated apartment building. You weren't familiar with this part of town, but you remembered some of the parents at your old church play-date sessions whispering about a family who lived in this area, giving pitying smiles when they were looking over and judgemental glares when they weren't. You tried to turn your head to get a better look at your surroundings, only then realising you were basically frozen in place. The chill from the wind whipping past must've crept deep into your bones.

Bucky released your grip around him like he was unfastening a seat-belt, his hands flinching slightly as they made contact with your ice-cold skin. He dismounted and immediately spun round, eyes beginning to scan over your face, one hand quickly moving to support your chin and tilt your head upwards slightly.

‘Y'alright? They didn’t hurt you did they?’

'Not unless you count some serious cramp.' You quickly realised that your feeble attempt at humour did nothing to relieve the concerned look on his face, so you took a different approach. 'Don't worry, I'm all good.'

'You sure? Cause I've heard how crazy these god assholes can get, when you messaged I thought they might be smacking you with bibles or branding you with a metal cross or-'

'I'm okay, Buck. Really.'

He seemed to relax a little at that, his hand pulling away from your chin. 'I'm glad you messaged.'

'I'm glad you came, I don't know what I would've done on my own. Thank you.'

The words almost got caught in your throat as you said them. You could tell Bucky was trying to stay humble but he couldn't help the corner of his mouth curling slightly upwards, he knew what showing up like that had meant to you. His expression dropped, however, as soon as both of his hands came to rest on your arms.

‘Man, you’re freezing. C’mon I'm taking you inside.’

You untangled yourself from the bike, allowing him to wrap his leather jacket around your shoulders and guide you towards the door. Browning weeds were sprouting between the paving stones beneath your feet and the edge of the path was littered with cigarette butts on both sides. As Bucky pulled his keys from his pocket and approached the door, you felt your phone start to vibrate in your pocket, the sensation filling you with dread. You pulled it out, it was your dad.

'Want me to talk to them?' His voice was playful, but you couldn't help noticing some faintly sinister undertones bleeding through.

'Oh I'm sure they'd love that,' you followed him over the threshold and up the creaky stairs, 'but it'd just be a waste of your time. I've literally never heard either of them admit they're wrong about anything.'

'Sounds about right.'

The two of you stopped in front of a grubby-looking door that Bucky swiftly unlocked. It swung open a few inches before getting jammed, at which point he instinctively kicked the bottom corner of it, leaving a fresh boot print on top of the four or five that were already stamped there. You wandered into a sparsely decorated and messy apartment, smiling to yourself as Bucky started subtly kicking laundry underneath various pieces of furniture and mumbling about how he definitely would've tidied if he knew you were coming; in all honesty you’d have taken anything over shag carpets and crucifixes on every wall, you were just happy to be somewhere safe and peaceful.

He cleared the couch of underwear and pizza boxes and encouraged you to sit while he disappeared into the kitchen to fix you something to eat. The couch was low, the cushions sinking under your weight as you placed yourself in the spot with the least visible stains. A few cars juddered past below the window, the occasional creak of footsteps came from above and you could hear Bucky quietly tinkering in the kitchen but, other than that, all around you was quiet. Suddenly you were alone, in an entirely unfamiliar setting, stewing in silence as the last of your adrenaline wore off. The weight of the whole day seemed to hit you at once. To make matters worse, as if sent to underpin your growing anxiety, your phone started buzzing again. It was more sporadic, suggesting a flurry of texts rather than a phone call. Against your better judgement you reached it out to check.

Answer the phone now.

You’ve chosen a criminal over your own family.

If you don’t come back now that’s it, no more support.

This is your last chance.

While you stared at the screen, the edges of your vision began to blur slightly. Your heart started pounding and you found you couldn't properly catch your breath. A sudden, sharp pain shot through your chest, making you feel dizzy as you began trying to frantically pull air into your tightening lungs. You kept telling yourself that Bucky was only a few steps away, that if you could just shout him he'd come back and everything would feel okay again, but your voice had gotten lost somewhere. You weren't sure how long you sat there with your phone clamped between your whitening knuckles. More and more messages came through, only interrupted by the occasional phone call that you just allowed to ring out. You must've gotten more than twenty notifications before you heard your host padding back from the kitchen.

'Shit, what happened?' He planted himself down beside you, setting the plate of food he'd made down on the floor due to the absence of any kind of table. 'Did they call?'

'No- uh, y-yeah, i just-'

Your voice was shaking too much to form a full sentence. Bucky's arm extended towards your phone, his hand enclosing it and gently tugging it out of your grip before he subtly turned it off and placed it on the couch behind him. You weren't able to say it, but you were incredibly grateful that he'd made that decision for you, because the relief of finally being entirely disconnected from your parents was cathartic. He cradled your face in his palm and his thumb began brushing away tears you hadn't even realised you'd shed. His calming presence eventually began to level you out and he drew you closer, the two of you melting into the lumpy sofa cushions, your panic becoming offset by the overwhelming safety you felt being wrapped in his arms. Exhaustion from the events of the day washed over you, Bucky tried to coax you into eating something but you didn't have the energy to be hungry.

It was only a few minutes until you started dozing off. You were so grateful that your abiding memory of the most draining day of your life was soft fingers running through your hair, the gentle rise and fall of a warm chest and the faint smell of cologne and cigarettes.

---

Part 4

---

[nellie-elizabeth]

tagged by @awildwickedslip, thank you!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

103.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

1,825,148

3. What fandoms do you write for?

magicians and roswell, new mexico primarily! Also wrote a good omens fic recently but that might be a one and done for now.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

tales from a bookshop (good omens post season 2, fairly sure I'll never write anything this popular ever again because holy shit)

Lover's Touch - Queliot fic!

Promises - Queliot fic!

Maybe This Time - Queliot fic!

Fragments - Queliot fic!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I didn't used to in my earlier fandom days but now I'm pretty consistent about it.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I once wrote a major character death fic for Queer as Folk where Justin died. Not really my style anymore. Back in my ff.net days I also wrote Merthur major character death fic, I'm just remembering.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I always try and do happily ever afters! A lot of my stories end with a sense of "and then they continue on their adventures, and life isn't always simple or easy", so in terms of the most pure, joyful ending? I guess I'll go living proof, which is the end of my episode series for Roswell, NM, which is just a "now they're married and happy forever" fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have before, but not as a rule. Once got called an abuse apologist & incest support (oh the horror /s) for exploring the canonical close friendship (not even a romantic relationship!) between two dudes from Shadowhunters lmao. And there's a troll in the Roswell fandom who writes hilarious and idiotic unhinged rants and I've been hit by her before, but she's got a scatter-shot approach and attacks a lot of people, so, at least I know it's nothing personal.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yep! What is meant by "what kind" here? lol. I'm pretty vanilla. Mostly m/m, but I usually don't pass over the chance for m/m/f. I actually recently wrote my very first m/f full-on sex scene ever for a little Magicians snippet, Kady/Penny lol.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, I don't wrote crossovers in the sense that characters from various worlds don't meet each other in my fics. HOWEVER, two of my favorite things I've ever written have been Magicians AUs that crossed over the characters from that show with the full plot from other films. One is The Old Guard (A Comet Pulled From Orbit), and one is When Harry Met Sally (When Quentin Met Eliot).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, a few times! Used to happen a lot back with old ff.net stuff, and I recently had my good omens fic translated.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I'm co-writing a series right now! First time I've ever done it and it's a blast.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

uhhhhh don't make me choose? lmao. In terms of fandom engagement and longevity I guess Queliot at this point. But in terms of... the ships that made me discover and appreciate and explore fandom in the first place? Kirk/Spock and Brian/Justin. Classics.

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue and tone setting, I think?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plot details (I get bored and distracted mapping things out)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

tbh I usually wince when I see it in fic? I'm not a fan. It always feels a little silly. Maybe very very sparingly if there's like a singular phrase or term of endearment or something but I'd rather just indicate that someone is speaking another language rather than write it out. I feel like it can often be tokenizing if you just have one character who's bilingual and you give them little one-liners in a different language. Idk. If the author is bilingual and doing a thing, then that's awesome. But I can usually tell when someone's just using google translate for stuff lol.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Gilmore Girls!

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I'm gonna cheat and name one each for my two big fandoms. Also idk if these are my favorites but they're two I really love that aren't my most popular:

Regrets, or the Absence Thereof (Magicians)

all the roads that lead you there (Roswell)

tagging @portraitofemmy @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier @orchardsinsnow @r-dtoblack and YOU if you're reading this and want to play!

[crystalmarred]

caging your lover against a wall with your arms to kiss them . - Datahni

MEME ( accepting! ) ⇢ @diademreigned

It wasn't entirely true to say that he and Data were an item. Not yet, at least. The man had enchanted him from the start, drawn his eye in a way that most men could not.

Where many would catch his eyes solely for the purpose of bedding them—maybe—and stealing them for every penny they were worth, Data had always been different. Something about him caught him by throat, pulled him in, put thoughts in his head that he shouldn't be thinking.

Something about Data made him want. He wanted him, in ways that both thrilled and terrified A'atahni. Perhaps that was why he insisted on trying to embarrass the poor man—or at least surprise him, failing that.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that when A'atahni approached him just now, it was not for the best of intentions.

Data was in the middle of doing some gardening. He'd stated before his intent to get more experience with crossbreeding plants and it was unfortunate that A'atahni had little skill with such things. He'd heard him talk plenty about it, but the information had hardly stuck. Something, something, adjacent planting, something, Thavnairian Onions, so on and so forth...

Plants were Data's expertise, not his own, so it should surprise no one that A'atahni barely understood one whit of what he rambled on about.

He would have paid less attention were Data anyone else.

But it was partway through another of these explanations that A'atahni finally spotted his chance—and he took it, gladly.

Perhaps he was a little rough. Perhaps, but Data was a big boy. He could take being shoved a little roughly against a wall and before he even had a chance to complain, A'atahni's hands were at each side of him.

"My poor, sweet faerie apple, whatever shall you do?"

His smile verged on a smirk, his tone sweet as he leaned in for an almost-kiss. A'atahni doesn't quite take it, wants more time to play and tease and enjoy this man before they're thrust back into the reality of their tumultuous relationship.

"Your path has been gated, however will you pay the toll to pass?"

The jaw that had come unhinged when he acted finally drew back into a familiar, devilish smile that made his heart race. Few times had he seen it, but it did not make his want for it lesser.

"I have a few ideas..."

"Oh, a few? Perhaps one might be... this?"

As easily as he spoke the words did he press his lips tight to Data's. What started for a moment as gentle and sweet grew passionate, caught in a dance where Data's hand cupped his cheek and again Atahni's better judgment, his hand slide from the wall to rest on his hip.

It proved harder than he'd like to pull, to convince himself away from how right it felt to kiss him again. When he did, Data followed him, pecked at his lips once and then twice before he leaned back into the wall and asked, "Does that suffice, I wonder...?"

The question is spoken so soft, yet A'atahni knew better than to think he was fragile, that he was smirking inside.

But A'atahni only had one answer, only had one thought in his mind as the hand on Data's hip pulled him back in for more of the same.

"Not quite yet..."

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Hello again, apparently staying up until midnight is great for temporarily turning off overthinking for me so another random tangent yay (probably also nocturnal ADHD tendencies for me lol)! (Sorry for the compulsive apologizing, but sorry if this is annoying. I will stop one day)

Very-random-question-kinda-sorta-but-not-really-perchance-related-to-anything-in-particular, do you think different blood types taste different to vampires? Yes, it's a very simple question but the second it popped in my mind, it immediately got into a entirely different realm, as in it started wondering the most minute details and specifics of it. ALSO, this is more so just rambling thoughts

On a somewhat related tangent, human blood types, in short, are essentially whether or not blood cells have specific antigens present (why? IDK Google it, I'm going off memory) and as a result, is why we can't trade blood since our immune systems would immediately attack the "foreign" object and subsequently kill us since it's still caveman era (also why allergies potentially exist but moving away before I ramble about immunology; it's fascinating to me), except for AB blood types who can receive all with the negative or positive depending on what charge their blood is because they're already used to the antigens (lucky ducks).

With that said and out of the way, does that mean vampires (or mosquitoes also kinda?) have specific preference? Would negative blood (absence of a specific antigen) taste different or have a different mouth feel compared to positive? Would some vampires have a thing where B blood tastes like old pennies (like how some humans think cilantro tastes like soap)? Would some vampires drink a cocktail of AB blood mixed with other bloods to have various different textures?

On that note, would they find A blood and B blood or bloods with different charges to have a weird mouth feel since, technically speaking (from memory, don't hold me to it. Also if I do use Google, this is going to become an entire master thesis essay because new thoughts forming) that combination causes it to clot up and "curdle"? Does blood cheese exist? Blood clot jelly? Would they have allergies with specific blood types? Not deadly mind you, but more so like if a human swallowed some sort of irritant?

FURTHER MORE (God I am sorry if this is a lot I really like thinking of the most minute details for worldbuilding and it kinda extends here as well), if someone had an autoimmune disorder against their blood, how would that taste? What would neutrophil filled blood (tiny suicide bombs in blood that spit acid at bacteria and infections. Usually more harmful than helpful but great damage control!) taste like? GOD THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS I COULD ASK AND PONDER BUT THIS WAS SUPPOSED T BE SHORT AGH-

ANYWAYS, long story short, what are your thoughts? I am very curious and would like to discuss (also yap unhinged about minute details not even related to the og question)? ALSO, would Alex (that's the dude's name right?) have any preference? What's Mallory's (that's the other dude right? Might accidentally be mixing up stories) blood type? I apologize for the length but it's seriously very interesting to me, even if it did spawn as a midnight brain thought. ANYWAYS, hope you're having a good day/night, that you're taking care of yourself, staying hydrated, and that you continue doing what you do because again, seriously, it's really epic :D -idk

(Also, just wanna say that the ribbon anon is very good at drawing. I had better words but I don't know how to express it, but seriously, good damn job it's epic)

OH. MY. GOODNESS. These ideas are great! I would have to say that yes, different blood types would taste different to vampires. And different things in the blood would aslso influence taste.

I actually did include this kind of knowledge into my vampire novels. It's why Anisa insists that blood from happy humans tastes better, because there is less stress hormones (like cortisol) in the blood that could make it taste sour or bitter. But a happy human would be flooded with happy hormones that would make the blood taste sweeter instead.

But I would definitely say that the properties of the blood would have a significant impact on taste & texture. Or like when Mallory was ill and practically bedbound, it stated thay his blood tasted sour and unappetizing to Alex because of the elevated white blood cell count and active immune system battle going on in his body.

Also, mosquitoes actually DO have preferences when it comes to blood types! There have been several studies done on this, and research shows that mosquitoes tend to be more attracted to people with certain blood types over others (if I recall correctly, they are more draw to 0 and A blood types, but I'd have to Google it to be certain). I've actually noticed this phenomenon myself even, because I rarely get mosquito bites when I'm outside. But my mom on the other hand is like a mosquito magnet -- they just like to swarm her. It's so weird!

But the idea of blood cheese?? I'd never thought of that before! It's actually pretty clever.

[brummiereader]

You had me at Dark!Tommy Lee! There was no way I wasn't going to read this before going to bed tonight 😈!

It's getting to a point that my obsession with dark!Tommy is starting to look unhinged (nobody judge me 🙈). It's not even " I can fix him" anymore, it's morphed into " I can deal with his tantrums" 😂. I just love your version of him, it was the first version of dark!Tommy I read ❤.

What a devil he is in this story 😱! I've always loved the coin toss scene in the series, so you can't imagine how thrilled I was to see you incorporated it into this fic. I love the small back story you gave us of how they became enamored with eachother and the dire warning that came from Bonnie.

The gif you picked for this story is perfect 👌. Look at him stomping down those stairs like he did after Y/N. It set the scene and the danger Tommy imposes to a tee! "His advances would escalate in the following meetings as he learned of your purity, more enamored with you than ever"... this made me shudder 😬. Dark!Tommy doesn't share. I can definitely see this detail being a driving force behind him to take things further, quickly snatching her up before anyone else could.

Oh to be young and naive like Y/N...maybe not so much in this situation though 😳. I was pleasantly surprised she actually listened to her brother and broke things off. She clearly trusts her brother's judgement, if only it was enough to keep Tommy away 😩!

The next scene had me wide eyed and holding my breath as you described Tommy casually walking down the stairs as Y/N was fleeing in her panicked state. This is something out of a thriller, and I just ADORED it! Dark!Tommy's calm demeanour is always the most frightening thing. You never know if he's just gonna snap completely, and that's the most unnerving thing about him. This is what I'm talking about it "Come back to bed, love," ...he's so nonchalant about it, like it's the most natural normal thing to do and she's the crazy one for reacting the way she is. "Turning to your father you asked, “It’s only one night?”...I have a feeling those words will come back to haunt her 😬. “Going to tell me how much you loved having me inside you, filling you up?” urghh...he's such a pig. Kick him in the balls Y/N! I do love the way you subtly described with Tommy's demeanour and the way he interacts with her how they're encounter was far from passionate. It gives us a clear indication of the torment and life she'll endure in the fate of his hands.

" I don't give a fuck want you want," he interrupted, eyes blazing with fury. "You belong to me,” he hissed, hand snaking down to your throat" poor Y/N, all her innocence was worth and now her life...the toss of a bloody penny. That's how much worth Tommy will treat her with 😩.

"Tommy stood like a brick wall, cold and impenetrable. “What necessity dictates, my darling.” what a manipulative bastard! For a moment I thought this was all for show. But when the two nuns turned up I remembered how little he probably even cares for Charlie with him not being his own blood and flesh. He found her weak spot in the little toddler. “Go on, sweetheart,” he urged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?” these last words were enough for me to know exactly what her likely response would have been 😭. There's no escape from him and that's what I love most about your dark!Tommy stories. It's the hopelessness I feel for Y/N that keeps me gripped, and the deranged behaviour and mind games from Tommy that keeps me wanting more! Loved this Lee, thank you so much for sharing this dark tale with us ❤️!

One Way or Another

Summary: When your brother Bonnie warns you about the darkness lurking beneath Tommy Shelby’s charming exterior, you heed his advice and break up. However, a vengeful Tommy vows to get you back and his ruthless tactics are worse than you could have imagined. 

Author's Note: Requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see dark!Tommy manipulate a reader into staying with him using Charlie as leverage. 

Warnings: language, dark!Tommy, manipulative behavior, allusion to non con (no graphic description), assault, discussion of pregnancy and adoption

You'd noticed the handsome, blue-eyed man the moment you and your family arrived in Small Heath. Intrigued by the mystery surrounding his enormous wealth and influence, you disobeyed your father's orders and began sneaking into town to catch a glimpse of Mr. Thomas Shelby. He soon took note of you as well, lavishing attention and gifts on you.

You even met his son Charlie a few times in his father's office. Giving voices to the toy horses and soldiers he would bring, the chubby toddler would laugh and grasp at your cheeks. You loved his laughter and often wished he was your own child. "You're a natural, sweetheart,” Tommy praised with a wide grin, which made you anxious for something more with him. You found yourself daydreaming about becoming Mrs. Shelby and giving him another baby.

Tommy wasn’t shy about expressing his own desire to you. A bottle of whisky and a sour mood had led him to confess that Charlie was not his son. He claimed it was an error in his judgement of character that would not happen again. This time he wanted things done in the proper way with the right woman, he said. You’d melted on the spot when he took your head between his large palms and kissed you full. His advances would escalate in the following meetings as he learned of your purity, more enamored with you than ever. You knew it was only a matter of time before he proposed to make you his completely.

However, someone in camp must have taken note of your frequent visits to Shelby properties because word quickly got back to your brother, Bonnie. "Y/n, what are you doing with him? He's not good for ya," he said furrowing his brow in concern.

"What do you mean, Bon?" you asked curiously.

“Don’t you know? You must,” he insisted, underestimating your youthful naivete. 

"He's the leader of the Peaky Blinders, Y/n. He's responsible for cuttings and beatings…murders. No one is safe round him. Not even you," he warned ominously.

"Surely not," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. Tommy was an upstanding businessman, or so you thought.

"Y/n, please listen to me," your older brother begged, sliding closer to you. "I wasn't supposed to tell you,” he said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “but Da and I are here to kill his enemies. And there's a long list. You don't want anything to do with Tommy Shelby, trust me," he stressed twisting his cap in his hands. 

After a lengthy conversation about everything he knew, including the murder of Tommy’s first wife, you were shaking with fear. Bonnie wasn’t easily spooked and it bothered you to see him this upset. “Alright, I'll keep my distance," you agreed, witnessing his agitation.

Bonnie sighed with relief, but you noted an apologetic tinge to his voice when he said, "I only want to keep you safe.”

You reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know," you assured him and he relaxed back into his chair.

True to your word, you broke things off with Tommy the next day. You tried to be careful, explaining it in every conceivable way except the real reason. In your usual self effacing manner you babbled away to ease your nerves. "I'm much too young for you, Tommy. You'll get bored of me and everything I don't know. Surely you want someone more...experienced," you blushed.

Although he seemed to listen intently without judgment, inwardly he was fuming. It was your omission that told him everything he needed to know. Someone close to you had warned you off and he was certain it was your father or brother, perhaps both.

As you left his office that day, Tommy began plotting to get you back. Preferably in a manner that would punish you and your family. He would win you one way or another. Gambling was his livelihood after all and the odds were always in his favor.

----------------------

Two weeks later...

You heard Tommy's footsteps thudding on the stairs behind you, slowly and methodically. The rhythm pounded inside your skull like a drum, driving you to the brink of hysteria and quickening your own steps. He was frighteningly calm despite your obvious distress as though he enjoyed humiliating you. 

"Come back to bed, love," he urged in a saccharine voice that turned your stomach.  

Your body shivered in reply as you headed toward the sitting room in search of your coat. Blinking back the tears at your lash line and biting your tongue until it bled, you promised yourself you wouldn't let him see you cry. It had been the same tactic you used that morning when your father admitted he'd gambled away your innocence in a scrap metal yard when Tommy goaded him into a coin toss.

"You're going to allow this?" Bonnie yelled at your father, pacing the floor in anxious rage reserved for fight days. 

Placing yourself between him and the two blinders who had come to collect you, you mumbled, “I'll be alright.” It was a meager attempt to convince him and yourself. Turning to your father you asked, “It’s only one night?”

Watching from the corner of the room, deathly still, your father replied "I hope so." But his eyes were wide and filled with terror, the likes of which you'd never seen. 

A harsh tug on your elbow startled you out of yourself as Tommy towered over you. "Where do you think you're going, eh?" he asked tightening his grip, all attempts at gentle tactics now vanished.

"I'd like to go home to my family," you choked out desperately, fingers ghosting over his in a vain attempt to soften his grasp. If he held any affection for you, perhaps he would allow you to leave with a shred of dignity.

He smirked wickedly at your cowering form, “I don’t think you understand, love. This is your home now." Tucking your disheveled hair behind your ear to reveal a bite mark on your shoulder he added, "We're just getting started, you and I." His thumb traced a dark bruise forming higher up on your neck and you winced as he pressed into it. He placed a kiss to your lips and murmured against you, “Going to tell me how much you loved having me inside you, filling you up?” 

His nose brushed against yours as you pulled away. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to steady your voice. “Tommy, how can you expect me to stay after you hurt me like that?” you asked, eyes burning with tears as you relived the pain inflicted on your body and heart as you realized he’d never meant a word he said to you when you were courting.

“Everyone’s first time is like that, sweetheart. It couldn’t be helped,” he replied, caressing your cheek. You felt the bile rising in your throat as you thought of how rough he’d been, holding you down and rutting into you like an animal without any regard for your comfort. 

Mustering all your courage you asserted, “I don’t want it like that ever again.”

Tommy chuckled, “Every woman says that until she wants a baby. Then you'll be begging for it.”

You shook your head as you spat, “I don’t want a family with you.”

His eyes narrowed, large hand sliding down over your midsection as he tsked, “A bit late for that. You might already be carrying my child. What will you do then?” he asked with raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t ask anything of you and I don't want..."

"I don't give a fuck want you want," he interrupted, eyes blazing with fury. "You belong to me,” he hissed, hand snaking down to your throat. 

“No!” you shouted, fighting against him. You were paralyzed by the feeling of your airway constricting under his crushing grip, reducing you to pathetic whimpers. He squeezed until your lungs burned from lack of oxygen, your fingertips scrabbling for his wrist and clawing uselessly. 

Leaning to whisper into the shell of your ear, hot breath fanned over you along with his terrifying words, “You don’t want to make things worse now, do you?”

Just as your vision turned dark, he relinquished you and you fell to the floor gasping for breath. Between coughing fits, you became aware of the housekeeper, Mary, standing in the room. When Tommy had summoned her you weren’t sure. Perhaps you had lost consciousness at some point because she stood with Charlie in her arms and the ringing in your ears soon turned to shrill crying. 

“Ch-Charlie?” you asked, reaching for the child with a hint of a smile in hopes of cheering him.The brightness returning to your eyes told Tommy all he needed to know. With clenched jaw, he  jerked his chin and Mary left the room as quickly as she had appeared. “What’s she doing?” you mumbled, attempting to stand despite the fuzzy feeling swimming inside your head.

Tommy didn’t answer, pretending as though he hadn’t heard you. He picked up the phone, adopting a business like tone, and began, “Good evening, put me through to Sister Agatha.” 

You could still hear Charlie’s desperate sobs echoing down the corridor as Tommy greeted the woman on the other end of the line. Standing on wobbly legs, you hesitated with uncertainty, wishing to comfort the boy. However, your attention was brought back to the cruel words you overheard next. Your jaw dropped as you heard Tommy proclaim, “Send someone to collect the child tonight.”

You scrambled toward him, a look of horror crossing your face. “What have you done?”

Tommy stood like a brick wall, cold and impenetrable. “What necessity dictates, my darling.”

“I d-don’t understand,” you stuttered at his heartless action.

Taking his time to light a cigarette and toss the match into the fireplace, Tommy smoked quietly for a few moments before ushering Mary back into the room. He took Charlie from her and placed the toddler in your trembling arms as your eyes darted between them. Within a few minutes the boy settled, his cheek resting upon your shoulder. As your hand caressed his golden curls, his cries turned to quiet hiccups and you felt the gentle motion of his thumb sucking before his limbs grew heavy with sleep.

“Tommy, what’s going on?” you begged to know as fresh tears slid down your cheeks. “Why are you behaving this way?”

Tommy stalked to you in three long strides, forcing your chin to meet his gaze. Icy blue stare cutting into you sharply, he scolded, “You’re the one forcing me to do these things.”

You tried to shake your head in adamant denial, but his harsh grip kept you in place. Through pinched cheeks you sputtered, “I never told you…”

“But you did,” he bit back. “Weren’t you the one saying you wanted to leave? That you didn’t want a family with me?” He threw your chin away in disgust as your brain reeled.

“You’re twisting my words…” you protested. “Of course, Charlie should stay.”

Just then a knock came at the door, followed by two nuns announcing themselves as representatives of St. Hilda’s. You backed into a corner, holding Charlie to your body protectively, heart beating wildly as you thought of a way to save him.

“What a darling little boy," one of the nuns chirped despite the late hour. Then she added carefully, "May I take him now?”

Tommy caught your eyes from across the room, “Go on, sweetheart,” he urged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?” 

----------------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996

@pietroxreader

@thomashelbyswife

@peakyltd

@gypsy-girl-08

@look-at-the-soul

@calummss

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@dandelionprints

@l1-l4

@rangerelik

@babayaga67

@runnning-outof-time

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

[littleblackbooksims]

Nightingale Sims just made a very weird statement, she didn't understand anything, or she is just toxic like the others (she does early acess)

Hey, let's talk?

For those who don't understand anything, follow the end of the post I'll leave some links explaining the situation!

So... Let's go!

The following is! Like all creators, or most of them here on patreon, I survive with your subscription! I'll be very direct, because I really have everything to lose, if this all comes to an end!

I see a lot of comments about this whole situation involving the new content trading policy for TS4 and I really never thought it would get to this point! People wishing you doom, laughing as if it were something banal, but it means the food of many of us! This is so dirty, I couldn't believe how ROTTEN these people are!

From EA I already expected the worst, although, in my naive mind, I didn't have the "worst" parameter to imagine how dirty they could be for us!

To those who support this new EA policy bullshit, my heartfelt fuck you!

We never force you to subscribe to our content! I have never shared exclusive content! And never would! But your greedy little ass couldn't wait 15/20 days to get the content publicly, could it? Well, fuck you! I can't thank you guys, I never had your support, I didn't have a penny from you in the food I ate during the month and not even in my household bills, you guys are trash! And I'm just referring to you guys who are celebrating with all this shit, who are happy to take the shit out of the right that made me have enough to eat every day, who made me buy my computer so I could work harder. YOU! GO FUCK YOU!

To everyone who has supported me during these 2 years of patreon, THANK YOU SO MUCH! They made me feel fulfilled for being able to work with what made me happy, with what I liked to do! I never thought this was possible, and it was! All Thanks to you!

I don't know what it will be like from now on, I don't know if I'll be able to offer my content publicly since I'll have to find a way to make money or I'll have to sell everything I can to continue surviving with a minimum!

I'll be sharing my content this month only and depending on how this snowball behaves, we'll be back in the following months. If things get any worse, I'll be giving myself an ultimatum that The Sims is no longer for me! The community is inhumane garbage and those that are worth it are few!

Again, thank you very much! I'll keep you posted throughout the week!

Apparently this post was already deleted but what is with these creators insulting their supporters? Not everyone can financially support you! It doesn’t mean they don’t like, share or recommend your content. Insulting them doesn’t change anything. This also completely glosses over the fact that we had a serious problem in this community with doxxing and permanent paywalls. EA didn’t put out a help article because people were complaining about Early Access. It was because of crazy stuff paywallers were doing. Today apparently is the day of unhinged posts from Early access creators good lord.

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 16

in which everyone has a bad time. except kasia. he's having fun

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory @justbreakonme @downrivergirl914 @cdragontogacotar @whumps-up @vaguelyhumanvoid @kim-poce @kween-pinescales

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, force feeding, stress positions, references to mouth whump and burns

-

Rowe took to repeating the affirmations every day, whispering them past the newly empty gaps in his gums. When he did them, he could forget for a little while that he was going to die in his cell. At least he could die as something. He wouldn’t let Kasia turn him into an empty husk.

I have worth.

I don’t deserve pain.

I’m a person.

He was careful, of course, to lock them away when Kasia visited. He tried not to associate them with pain; he said them every day when he woke up, not when he was freshly hurting. He didn’t want to ever, ever, say them in front of Kasia.

He knew if he did it would just get him another beating, but they were his. They were precious. They were a relic of Master that Kasia couldn’t corrupt.

He just had to keep his stupid mouth shut when it mattered.

For the first time since his arrival here, Rowe spent a whole day alone. The hours ticked by as he started to see shapes in the floor, and wondered if Kasia would ever return. Was this it? Had he got bored already? Would Rowe be left to die and rot after less than a week, his capture so recent he could still feel Master’s hands in his?

In reality it only meant that when Kasia did come back the next day, Rowe despised himself for the brief flash of relief. The man he was at the mercy of had returned to torture him another day.

Kasia had brought more chains, and restraints, always in his duffle bag, and Rowe had quickly learnt to shrink away at the mere sight of it. Rowe stayed curled up on the floor as he entered, eyeing him like a kicked dog.

“Did you miss me, pup?”

“Please,” he replied hoarsely. “Please give me f-food. Please.”

Rowe would never have dared beg with his first Master. But he had always known that he would be fed, eventually, once he had learnt his lesson. And of course, he’d never needed to beg Master Tomas. But here, there weren’t any rules. Nothing was guaranteed. So fuck it, he might as well try to prolong his life.

“Today’s your lucky day. I actually brought something. You’ll have to earn it, though. No getting on my fucking nerves, yeah?”

You’re the one who chooses to come here, Rowe thought despairingly.

“Okay, okay, just please-“

“Didn’t you just hear me?” Kasia kicked him in the stomach and Rowe moaned. He nodded, wincing as the burns on his neck pressed together.

“Arms up, come on.”

. . .

Tomas had made it from the shower to the downstairs sofa, and he was content with that. Not proud, no, proud would imply he was happy with himself in some way, but at least he wasn’t completely catatonic today. Luca had texted saying to answer the door if it rang, and a part of Tomas still wanted to impress him, despite it all. So he had showered and brushed the last of the blood from his hair. God, how many days had it been?

A small movement on the floor caught his eye. A spider, out of reach, too far to feasibly get him. He felt acutely aware of his own apathy then, as instead of shrieking or running away, he just stared.

The chance of the spider hurting him was practically zero. And yet he was still afraid. Afraid of it crawling over his skin, afraid that it might come near him in the night when he was asleep and vulnerable, and although he knew deep down that it wouldn’t, there was always the possibility of it deciding to run up his leg at any given moment. Even being near it made him afraid.

He thought of Rowe. He felt like he understood something. He sighed.

Luca arrived not half an hour later, banging on the door and shouting for Tomas as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey! It’s me- don’t leave me outside on this cold night. I’m only an orphan boy.”

Tomas pulled the door open. He couldn’t smile, but seeing Luca felt like the weight in his stomach was lifted slightly.

“It’s not cold. And you’re not an orphan.”

“I am happy to see you, though,” Luca said calmly. He was holding a basket, its contents hidden under a teatowel. “I brought you a pull-yourself-together hamper. Some ready meals, dry shampoo, fruit, and stuff. And the teatowel. ‘Cause why not.”

Already Tomas could feel Luca’s warmth seeping into him. He put a hand over his mouth and nodded. “Than- thanks, thank you, you know you don’t owe me anything-“

“I know, handsome lad. But the thought of Rowe being kidnapped is- god, it’s awful. Don’t worry, I’m here of my own free will. Sometimes you just need someone else in the house.”

Tomas let him inside, feeling guilty about the mess, then feeling guilty because he was the one who allowed it to accumulate.

“Let’s open a window,” Luca suggested, and Tomas sloped over. “Want me to get that spider?”

He shook his head, trying uselessly to hide his face. “It’s fine, it’s fine, you can let it stay, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m-“

His own voice cracking cut him off but he pressed on.

“I’m fine, I really am.”

“You’re not. It’s okay.”

“Just- how- how the fuck did I let this happen. How did I not, I mean, I trusted him this whole- whole time and now it’s all gone wrong and-“

He sat heavily on the floor, leaning his face into the side of the sofa, not blinking, not seeing. He breathed out and time seemed to slow.

Luca’s hand rested on his shoulder, a gentle pressure to his fingers.

“What’s done is done. You can’t help Rowe by falling apart, and you definitely can’t help yourself like that either. It’s, ah, it’s hard. It’s really hard. But you can collapse and cry and disintegrate when Rowe is back, I promise. Do you know where Kasia lives?”

Tomas nodded. “I haven’t even thought about that. I can’t believe myself.”

“Hey, no falling apart okay?” Luca’s tone was firm, and it made Tomas pull his head up, to look at him. His hair, braided in two chunky plaits, hung asymmetrically, one past his collarbone and one down his back. His eyeliner was winged like the letter V, drawn out in a point that came sharply back over his eyelid. Pretty. “That’s good to know, though. You could catch him on his way in or out, try to strike up a deal, I don’t know. I’ve not exactly had any experience with kidnappings either.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking stupid isn’t it. This whole situation is stupid. Fuck.”

Luca just looked at him, a sad smile ghosting over his face.

“I just can’t stop thinking about all the things that might be happening,” Tomas confessed. “He’s unhinged, he really is. He’s sick. And he’s got Rowe and the police don’t care, no one cares.”

“I care. You care.”

Tomas didn’t reply and the words hung over them. Two people caring wasn’t much. But, he supposed, it was better than nothing.

. . .

Rowe’s arms would dislocate, they would they absolutely would, Kasia was setting him up to dislocate both his god damn shoulders or arms or whatever. Rowe could hardly tell where the pain was located, it felt like it was everywhere, burning through his like a fire burns a taut string.

The food- dog food, but still edible, still something- sat before him, emptied on the floor, and from where Rowe knelt he should’ve been able to lean and eat easily. But Kasia had his arms bound and tied to the bars of the cage door, pulling them back and turning any movement into agony. Not only was he bent out of shape, but the burns along his shoulders were irritated awfully. He was sure his skin would burst open any second.

It had been twenty minutes at most, and already he was exhausted. Sweat rolled down him, dripping off his nose. He could hardly breathe.

Kasia’s heavy boot pressed down on the crown of his head, and his moan quickly became a scream of pain.

“No, no please!”

“I thought you were hungry. I’m helping.”

The pressure doubled, forcing Rowe’s face closer to the dog food, until he was close enough to open his mouth and take a bite. Disgust flooded him, and it only increased when he chewed. He swallowed past the collar, his throat pressing uncomfortably against it, and oh god, it felt so good, it was food in his belly, he was thankful for it despite everything. Kasia seemed satisfied and released his boot, sending Rowe’s head springing back to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. The skin near his burns had ripped and were bleeding, but nothing was dislocated.

“You’re definitely still hungry. How about another bite?”

Before Rowe could speak, Kasia had grabbed a fistful of hair, shoving him down, the sudden pull on his arms a thousand times worse than before, worse than anything, the pain was clouding his mind and he couldn’t think of anything but the barest, most built-in responses.

He screamed.

Spit flew from his mouth. Kasia kept pressing, his fingers curling tighter together, and the burning on Rowe’s scalp joined the rest of his body. His fingers were surely purple with how hard Kasia had tied them. Rowe had lost all feeling beyond his wrists.

“Please!”

Kasia ignored him.

“Please, st-stop, please M-M-Master Tomas help me-“

“He’s not fucking coming you stupid dog,” Kasia growled and pulled Rowe’s face all the way down, cracking his chin against the concrete, a deep shooting pain through his face and remaining teeth. He moaned. More skin tore along his shoulders. “No one’s coming to save you.”

A kick sent him lurching to the side, twisting his body until he was sprawled with his back to the floor, staring up at his bound hands, which were a mixture of blue and purple and were not moving at all.

He turned his head to see Kasia grabbing a fistful of the dog food from the floor and stepping over him.

“Mouth open.” Rowe complied and Kasia smiled mockingly. “Good boy.”

The dog food was shoved in, packing against the walls of his mouth, Kasia’s fingers prodding his gums, and it took everything not to vomit. His stomach heaved but nothing came. All he could do was be a good boy, and eat.

“Tomas isn’t your Master. He’s not coming.”

Present tense, thought Rowe as his eyes watered from the taste. He’s not dead.

. . .

Tomas couldn’t stop his legs from shaking as he stood on Kasia’s street, his hands tucked under his armpits for warmth. Yeah, the shaking was definitely just from the cold. Sure.

By the time Kasia appeared, it was night. He stalked down the street, stumbling slightly, and Tomas realised he was drunk. If he hadn’t had a reason to be there, he would have walked away right now, and fast.

When Kasia got close enough, Tomas stepped out of the shadows, forcing Kasia to stop and fix him with a glare.

“Give him back.”

“Or what?” he asked flatly, as if this meeting was no surprise. “Hah, you look like shit Tomas.”

“Give him fucking back, what do you want for him, money? You’re torturing a human being you sick fuck.”

“I’m having some fun with a Pet,” Kasia smiled. “And if you start whining like this I will just kill him.”

Tomas stiffened. “You wouldn’t.”

“You so sure about that?”

“Let him go.”

“No,” Kasia pushed him once and Tomas stumbled back, hitting a wall. He blinked and Kasia’s face was pressed up in front of his. He stank of booze and cigarettes. “Fuck off or I’ll kill him. I’ll hurt him worse to make up for this, too.”

“No, fuck no just leave him fucking alone-“

Kasia swung once, but mercifully something made him miss. Carelessness, the alcohol, perhaps just the assumption that Tomas was too pathetic to move out of the way. His fist cracked against the wall and as he shouted in pain Tomas considered kicking him between the legs, spitting on him, whatever. But Rowe’s life was at stake so, like the coward he was, he ran into the night, Kasia shouting taunts behind him.

Luca looked up when he pushed through the door, panting. He’d run the entire way. Luca stayed silent; the look on Tomas’s face was telling enough.

“I’m a fucking failure,” he whispered, and started to cry.

[pianostarinwonderland]

Cologne anon and you're not getting a single PENNY FOR THAT THOUGHT I'M SORRY. Started out nice because damn I wanna hug Azul tighhhttt BUT WANTON DESIRE?? SORRY I AM A HOLY PERSON WHO PLANS TO STAY HOLY babe you concerned me there AJBSJSJS

I imagined something more wholesome, like you hugging him and you smell his cologne and. Idk I'd just keep on sniffing AHAHAHA I did this with my friend today yup. WELL THE END WAS UNEXPECTED 💀

Also I'm sorry you said dad scents and. I just imagined old men perfume sorry. But all the colognes my dad uses smell like.

Uh. Classy, professional yet a playful touch to it? I make no sense but he took my brother's perfume so 💀 help me I don't want to imagine azul smelling like a grandpa what

AUR NAUR I'M SO SORRY ANONIE I swear I'm a holy child of God most of the time, you just caught me at an unhinged hour (12am)

omg you just ,, sniff the scent of your friends? man, to be close to my friends like that 😔 but in fairness, I really only pay attention to the scent of someone I really love romantically, hence why the way I wrote what I wrote was very ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm haha lol

WHAT IS OLD MEN PERFUME I'M SO SORRY 😭 GRANDPAS HAVE PERFUMES??? I'M SO SORRY BUT ..

CLASSY, PROFESSIONAL WITH A PLAYFUL TOUCH TO IT SOUNDS NICER AND MORE ACCURATE AHAAHKSJAHFKAJFKHSAHDSKFSD I think that could just be it snfknsdlfnsdklfsdgdslg pepesobs I'm so sorry you really did catch me at a really wild hour with the previous ask 🤡

[jupitermelichios]

So I decided to try watching Riverdale, and I have... thoughts. And also the words ‘holy homoeroticism batman’ written several times in increasingly large letters.

I started on season 2, because everything i read suggested that was when the show went off the rails, and i am here exclusively for the batshit weirdness. but it’s fine, because the show decided to fill me in on what i missed during the two consecutive 'previously on' sequences. was one not enough? was there an ad break between them? did they think people would forget what show they were watching if there wasn’t a little break and a logo splash halfway through?

we open on archie rushing his dad into the worlds most empty emergency room. there’s no one, no patients, no doctors, not even a receptionist, just a big empty room, right until the extras smell the blood of a protagonist and all converge. i assume they’re just desperate for something to do, working in the world’s least used hospital.

does snake pliskin exist in this universe? betty makes a reference that doesn’t really make any sense otherwise and given what i know about where the show goes eventually, it feels like a very real possibility. is this the escape from new york universe?

jingle jangle. they called the drug jingle jangle. honestly no criticism, amazing job everyone on the writing team, keep it up!

“dropping vintage bon-mot like vintage bon-bons” is a hell of a line that only works if you have no idea how bon-mot is said (and no idea what one does with a bon-bon. why are you dropping your candy on the floor veronica). fortunately neither the writers or the actress delivering it do, so it’s fine.

getting into the shower with someone without asking is a risky proposition. You have to be really sure they want it. there’s normal ‘i thought you were into it but you’re not’ awkwardness, and then there’s ‘i thought you were into it but you’re not and also i’m standing here wet and naked now’ awkwardness.

how many gangs are opperating in riverdale? I count three so far. riverdale is not that big, is it?

Actually for real, how big is riverdale? I have absolutely no idea. it’s a local small town with exactly one place to eat but it supports two highschools and three gangs. do we know where riverdale is, and is it anywhere near smallville?

cheryl sure knows how to dress for maximum drama. in general i’m basically neutral on the costumes, but everything cheryl has worn has been a Look and i am here for it. sexy runway victorian ghost aesthetic, yes, amazing, no criticisms.

define hood, because i’m not sure you know what it means. that’s a mask. i get that the comics character is called the black hood, but the costume team could have put him in a hood, why was their solution ‘ski mask but no one in town will admit it’s a ski mask’

half the high school is in this fucking hospital to support archie’s dad, good thing there’s zero other patients or staff or it would be getting crazy crowded

what riots, pop? you can’t just drop in ‘someone threw a brick through our window during the riots’ with no further explanation. what fucking riots?!

wise old spiritual black man, but he's just some dude is a take honestly. does he have some kind of special knowledge or divine connection? nope, he’s just a dude who likes being extremely cryptic in service of absolutely nothing

is cheryl magic? does she think she's magic? what does she think the kiss of life is?  i was under the impression that magic wasn’t going to be real in this show for another season or two, but cheryl apparently does not agree!

the problem with every actor playing a kid in this show being in their mid twenties (insert KennieJD ‘brooding hot 25 year old teenager’ jingle) is that then they show a music teacher kissing a student and i have absolutely no context for how creepy it’s supposed to be. like, she’s twenty, he’s twenty, we’re not in a school setting, I have no idea how i’m supposed to be reacting. he might be an adult who’s decided to take up piano, or she might be a straight up paedophile, and i have literally no idea which. am i supposed to be sad she’s dead?

headmaster is weirdly supportive of his students becoming armed vigilantes. i feel like every teacher i’ve ever had would have had more questions than that.

as the grandchild of a silversmith, i have to say, veronica polishing the silver cutlery as one of her chores is a weirdly believable detail for a show this unhinged. that was one of my chores as a teenager, and still is when i stay with my mum for more than a couple of days. pros of your grandad knowing how to silver-plate: pretty. cons: absolutely everything that stood still long enough eventually got silver plated and it all needs polishing.

Love that everyone still has archie comics names. the mob lawyer is called penny peabody. amazing.

maybe it's the fact that i'm in my 30s but archie's dad is the only attractive person on this show

ebony dark'ness dementia raven way would be very disappointed by how milktoast the goths in this show are. try harder, CW wardrobe department.

oh man, the lighting team absolutely went off for this show, and i kind of love that it's in service of absolutely nothing

holy homoeroticism batman

i’m in this weird place where objectively bonkers things have happened, but not as much or in the way that i want them to, and i can’t decide if it’s worth sticking with it to get to the later more bonkers seasons.

on an unrelated note though, this is the creative team i would choose for a nailbiter adaptation. the weird lighting and colour pallettes, the time displaced americana vibe, honestly even some of the writing, exactly what i would want from a nailbiter tv show.

[ingek73]

Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...

Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.

Mic Wright

May 6

On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.

Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.

The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:

MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’

MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims

SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author

DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her

NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’

'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert

CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones

You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.

Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome

DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES

@BreeNewsome

Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.

May 5th 2021

1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”

-

Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:

… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.

Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.

Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.

When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.

Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:

If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.

It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.

At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:

But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.

The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach

Maria Roach

@MariaLRoach

Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America

May 5th 2021

122 Retweets1,619 Likes”

-

Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.

Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.

There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:

The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…

… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.

It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:

Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'

If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?

15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda

Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.

Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…

It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.

… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.

Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.

Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO

talkRADIO

@talkRADIO

Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.

Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?

@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image

May 5th 2021

36 Retweets221 Likes”

-

Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:

It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?

Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”

I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba

Nadim Baba

@NadimJBaba

Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......

Media Guardian @mediaguardian

Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz

May 5th 2021

1 Like”

-

There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.

There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.