#blub blub bitch

[theflirtmeister]

1352 words to go and then im throwing myself into the river thames

[darksideaskblog]

(I found the Slayer’s singing claim…It’s haunting and beautiful at the same time…Kinda scared to share it XD I’m jamming so hard!

Let me know if you guys wanna hear what his singing voice would sound like!)

[henryisabigfatbitch]

FISH??? FELLOW FISH????

FEEEEESH

ya'll

ya'll

guess who's going to their first furry convention

[h4unted-d4rling]

I love how the new generation Gravity Falls fans are like “oh so we’re simping over a triangle?” like yes!!!! We’ve been fawning over that fucker since 2012!!!!!!! Bill had me in a chokehold at 8 years old and he still does as I’m 20 years old.

[sleeeepy-demon]

Why is there an ad every 4 posts.

[6littlevandal9]

[darksideaskblog]

Yet again, what she said made Red laugh, and it only increased more as she continued talking. Percy was now close enough to him to strike, he knew that and they were clearly trying to distract him and keep him talking. His smile would widen with each thing she said, at a couple of her statements he’d laugh but at all times he kept his eyes on the both of them. Now there was silence from him, and yet again, Red’s burning red eyes moved to The Slayer but this time stayed plastered on those beautiful now clouded black eyes glowing slightly purple.

The Slayer tensed when those red eyes moved to him, he was just about to strike, he had the perfect opportunity until the stranger looked at him and kept his eyes glued on him. His black tendrils pulsed in movement behind him, waiting for the moment when the stranger turned back to the Shadow’s friend. He begged for that opportunity to happen, and for this creep to tear his gaze away from him. His right hand was clenched tightly ready to swing a nasty punch to the stranger’s face, the Slayer literally begged for that opportunity.

When the Shadow’s friend asked the part about what Red wanted Percy for, he laughed again, but kept his stern gaze at Percy when he answered her question, he didn’t hide at all what he wanted and at this moment the only movement Red made was turning his body fully to Percy and answered the Shadow’s friend, “Well my dear, what I want is dear Percy,” he chuckled softly and tilted his head to one side still staring at Percy as he continued, “He was to be my lover, I was to have his body for mine, and mine alone. He had rejected me for so long, so instead I chose to keep going after him. So you could say I want that, sweet, warm, soft body…,” Red trailed off, and with each of the last few words, he’d take a step closer until Red was finally standing in front Percy and a sick twisted lustful smile on his face, those cute black eyes staring up at him wide with a mix of fear and confusion.

Red kept that smile and enjoyed every second of Percy’s look, longing for that look to be caused by him, and after a few minutes his mouth closed but he was still smiling and his eyes lowered to the wound and without hesitating his hand touched Percy’s wound on his chest. A smirk cracked when Percy made a wince at his hand gently pressing along the wound that he had caused, then after a second of fondling that wound began taking off Percy’s rubber-like armor and dropped it to the floor beside him, the went to the zipper of Percy’s brown jacket and began to pull that zipper down. The Slayer though just stood there and let it happen as he and the stranger stared into each other’s eyes. The Slayer didn’t know why this was happening or what he was doing but he still let it happen none the less, slightly shaking but not enough to give the stranger the satisfaction, and no matter what the man said, he stayed in place, letting that man unzip his brown jacket and let him pull it off and drop that too. Then the stranger’s hand pressed against his chest, the Slayer was now wearing a black shirt that showed a small bit of his chest, a v shaped collar, and felt as the stranger looped his finger into the lowest part of the v collar, and he felt a cold knuckle against his chest, and then in a swift motion, his shirt was pulled free of his body and plopped right next to his other articles of clothing, and now the Slayer’s chest was bare.

The sewn bloody and black wound could be seen now along with pretty much everything else on his torso. The Slayer had muscle, but no abs, at least from what anyone could see. His belly was flat, but very subtle bumps under the skin indicating he indeed did have abs. His arms muscles bulged with how tight his black hands were clenching, and the black tarryness ended somewhere in the middle of his forearm and continued to fair skin color making it look pale against the black of his clawed tar-like hands. The Slayer was actually quite handsome, and fit. He looked let he could take anything that would come at him, and he clearly did whenever he was fighting the Shadow and his friend.

The Slayer breathed, his chest moving softly their eyes still plastered into each other’s eyes, the tendrils on each of their backs wiggle together and then Red’s red clawed hand yet again went to Percy’s chest, touching the wound again, and that was when the Slayer finally noticed the dark bloody red tendril, then he finally put two and two together. The Slayer’s eyes widened slightly but snapped back when the stranger’s moved back to his eyes then right after moved down to the now visible wound. It was strange though, it looked as if the stranger’s eyes softened and that cold red hand ran along his bare chest, and all the Slayer could do was stand there, stare, and take it. At this moment he wanted more than anything for the Shadow’s friend to strike now, so he could get away from this creep, get away from his touch that made him feel so uncomfortable. He wanted more than anything for it to stop and now he was shaking ever so slightly.

✘ (For the Slayer, I wanna try just him and her this time! X3)

Send me a ✘ for my muse’s reaction to finding yours asleep on their couch.

Kitt had been doing a bit of work, locked up in her room for a good portion of the day. The felinoid had been busy with repairs on some of the gadgets and contraptions that she had left to build up for a while now. 

After a few hours, she finally emerged from her room. Stretching her arms as well as her back as she did so. However, it did not take long for her to suddenly pick up an odd sound coming from her den.

Making sure not to make any sounds herself, she carefully made her way into the living room. There she noticed something on her couch in the semi-darkness. Quickly putting on her lights and flipping up the goggles that she had been wearing, her wintergreen hues widen in shock at who it was.

Her shock soon enough became absolute anger.

“What in the bloody …?” she rasped to herself, clenching her fists before catching a glimpse of a thick leather bound sitting on her table nearby.

Without a second to spare, the cat woman grabs the fairly heavy book of hers and tosses the literary heavy weight right into the snoring Slayer’s face.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” Kitt inquired in a very incredulous manner before taking a few more steps closer to him, teeth bared and pupils narrowed.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was with my ex Taylor and living in Arizona we were roommates with two of her friends.The living situation ended up being Wildly Toxic it’s the one where they said we couldn’t use kitchenware when we said we were moving out. We left and cut contact.

But I do have one regret. I had gotten along quite well with the guy in the couple when I first met him. We texted while Taylor and I were still long distance and because I was working at a sex shop he was quite transparent with me about considering a dick piercing. We chatted about aftercare and the saltwater rinses he’d have to do.

One day he sent me a text informing me that he wanted to send me a video but it had his penis in it, and was that okay? I was so curious I immediately said yes.

The video started on a mirror with his waist framed in shot. Lacking his face all I saw was his flaccid penis and a small glass of water. His new piercing gleamed like a single eye at the tip of his cock. He grabbed his limp penis and in a gruff voice demanded, “Talk you son of a bitch!”

He grabbed his floppy freshly pierced dick and dunked it in the salt water while insisting, “We know you know! Spill it!”

He pulled it up and did a gibbering little penis voice, pleading, “Please, I don’t know anything-“

Then he shoved it back into the water, flopping it around as if the water boarded dick was flailing in distress making outrageous “Blub-hrygh-ghlugggh,” sounds.

It was hands down one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my life. I watched it over and over until tears were streaming down my face. When things ended terribly with that couple and we cut contact I deleted the video as it seemed inappropriate to keep now that we weren’t friends.

But I still think about the comedy gold he’d enacted in front of that mirror.

[bisayawa]

anywAY who's the baddest bitch in bludhaven & why is it nightwing

[piss-pumpkin]

🏖️ A beach episode 🌊

Older!Dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 23 ~4.0k words Masterlist Prev

The state of your head meant you couldn’t swim much. Getting water on it, especially dirty water, like that of the Gravity Falls lake was a bad idea. Having the cut contaminated or infected was a big no-no. Even with it healing well, there was still a somewhat open wound under your bandaid, and the cover was far from water proof. That being said, you also weren’t a bitch. 

You just couldn’t let the water touch your head. Seemed easy enough. 

Your flip flop broke on the way to the shore, so Dipper gave you a piggy back ride, and you kicked your other sandal at Mabel, who walked ahead of you. She didn’t dodge, and it hit her in the back. The Grunkles were grabbing things from the trunk: floaties, a chair for Stan, some weird invention of Fords that would do… something to the water. 

Dipper let you down on the dock, where you wouldn’t get sand stuck on your feet. 

The dock was worn down from years of splashing and walking, and you’d been told it was the place where Mabel got her first kiss. And with a merman Dipper was not fond of. That was a fun bit of mythology. 

The lake wasn’t exactly crowded, but it was on the busy side. You couldn’t be too surprised considering the good weather. On the beach, the cops, Blubs and Durland were laying in towels and giggling to themselves over magazines you couldn’t make out from the dock. A couple of Wendy’s brothers were on the water fishing. Mcguckets son was lecturing some teenager sternly.

Stan had used the car to inflate a couple floats. He was walking towards the three of you, tube in hand, a  nice one too. It had a headrest, and netting in the bottom to sit on.

“Oh my god, look at that!” Mabel said, pointing into the water. 

You looked. The lake water was a little dirty, tinted greenish from some underwater plants growing off the dock legs.

“Um, what?” Dipper asked, leaning over the edge of the dock. You fought the urge to push him in, he hadn’t wronged you in a while, probably didn’t deserve it.

”Yeah, I don’t see anything, what are we looking at?” You asked, studying the lake. You didn’t even see any fish.

Mabel looked up at the both of you, jaw hung open. She pointed accusingly at the small waves. “You guys seriously didn’t see that?” She asked, brow raised. “It was like- I fucking huge fish or something!” 

You pursed your lips, glancing back at the water. It seemed all clear. “Uhhh,” you looked at Dipper, who had a matching look of apprehension, with a little curiosity. “Yeah, I didn’t see anything,” you admitted.

Dipper put his hand up like he was in a classroom, “I also didn’t see-“

“Hey kids, catch,” Stan called, hurling the tube like a frisbee. 

You turned around to look at the shore where he came from. “Huh-“ the tube hit you square in the face. The impact of the rubber got your straight in the forehead. For a soft material, it sure did hit hard when you had stitches in your face. “Fuck!”

You heard Stan suck a breath in through his teeth, “Sorry, my bad,” he said. 

Dippers jaw was hanging open as he looked at Stan, and Stan shot a thumbs up with a guilty smile and shuffled away. 

Mabel swooped I’m in front of you to look at your head. “Bandaids still on,” she said, examining the edges. She picked up the tube Stan threw, and handed it to you. “So your still alive, that’s good!”

You grimaced. At least you could tell your head was getting better, because it didn’t stay bad for long. You blinked a few times, and the pain was nearly gone. “Yippee,” you said dryly.

                                         …

Dipper and Mabel could swim, and you could… hangout. When they went in the water, you lounged in the tube.

Mabel actually had one too. She swam to shore to grab a float shaped like a pizza slice. She flopped up on it, and laid on her back, saying she was trying to get tan.  Her head was buried face down in the crust.

You might’ve rested your sunglasses on your forehead if not for the bandage. Instead, they were over your eyes as you lounged on the tube, and you hoped to god that your sunscreen would be enough to avoid a sunglasses tan line. 

It was surprising how good a job you were doing keeping the water off your face. The headrest of your float was completely dry. 

The twins traded the pizza slice around. Dipper ended up sitting on it, holding onto the side of your tube so he didn’t drift away. The tube was much higher in the water then Dippers float, so for today you were taller than him. Felt good. 

Mabel insisted on diving for pearls. You and Dipper ended up slowly drifting away from her spot by the docks, carried by the weak waves. You caught a glimpse her feet above the surface before she vanished under the water for another dive. 

You leaned over to Dipper, “I feel like we should be betting on if she finds anything, you know?”

He leaned on the tube, and you smiled seeing up close how you were a good head and a half taller than him like this. “She totally won’t, right?” He said, half as a question. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” She came up for air again, and took her goggles off to get some water out of them. When she saw the two of you facing her, she waved enthusiastically before putting them on again and diving. “I would say no, but it’s Gravity Falls, you can never know for sure,” you grinned. 

Dipper snickered. “Okay, if she finds a pearl, it’ll be super weird,” he said, talking with his hands as he tried to draw an elaborate picture in the air. 

“Or better yet,” you added, “not even a pearl. She finds some weird cursed gem or artifact.”

He tapped at the rubber of the float. “Okay, I like your thinking,” he said, “but she’s so shallow, like what, did some dude just drop some weird magic thing off the dock?”

You waved your hand in dismissal as you snickered. “Well maybe, like a wizard or something was walking one night and just keeps shit in his pockets,” you said, trying to think. Thinking was hard through. “Or it’s just washing up from the tide.”

Dipper snorted, “washing up from where? This is not a big lake.”

You winced, swishing your cheeks around your mouth. “Uhhh,” you started. 

Before you could come up with something, Dipper gasped. “Wait no- no you’re right,” he said quickly, looking over at the island in the other side of the lake. “I, uh- remembered. There is very much weird shit in here.” 

You pursed your lips, “Okay, well now I’m worried.” The best you could think of was how Mabel’s merman boyfriend somehow ended up in the ocean from here, so it clearly connected somewhere. That or you could make up some underwater ancient city. 

Dipper glanced around, then pointed at the island on the far side. “I’m like, eighty percent sure that island is alive, and it’s a giant floating head,” he whispered. “But we’re fine, we’re… so far over here.”

”Um,” you said, trying to think about that. You had nothing though. Your head was completely empty. You’d totally been on that island before. 

In very convenient timing, you caught a dark glimmer under the water under you. Like… a big fish. But it didn’t look right in the way it moved. “Dipper,” you said sternly, pointing to the water. 

He hummed, looking first at you, then following your finger. Luckily, it was still in a sight. A big, maybe human sized, dark shadow swimming… towards the dock. You could tell Dipper saw it, because his face first lit up with excitement, then fell. Mabel had just come up for air. 

You and Dipper looked at each other, then back at Mabel. The dark shadow had disappeared in her direction. “Dude,” you said.

”Yep,” he affirmed quickly. 

You turned, and started to paddle your tube back over to the dock. Dipper looked like he was about to do the same. You poked at his arm, “you can just swim over, man,” you said. 

He glanced at Mabel, then at the pizza slice. “Yeah, okay,” he said, rolling back into the water.

As he started to swim away, Mabel raised her hand above the water, and you couldn’t hear what she was saying. It looked like she was holding something to show. Maybe a pearl. 

In a blink though, she was almost under. Your eyes widened as her head, all but the top of her hair sunk. Then she was back with a gasp, thrashing.

You sat right up, pointing, “Holy fuck!” You couldn’t tell if Dipper saw, but he definitely heard. He looked back at you for a moment. “Go get her!” you yelled, frantically trying to paddle over. How important was your head? Should you just jump in?

You worried faded quickly though, as Dipper picked up the pace swimming to the dock. He’d get there far faster than you could anyway, now. So you paddled as best you could. 

Mabel disappeared under, and Dipper was close enough to dive after her. And for a good moment, it was oddly quiet. Most of what you heard was your own paddling. You swallowed hard. Ford was far off on the shore doing something with the water. Stan was asleep on his chair. The rest of the people on the lake didn’t seem to see anything. It was just you, the twins, and some random sea monster. Or… lake monster.

By the time you got close, they were still under. You tapped against the tube. You pulled your feet out of the water, like touching it would get you pulled down too. Should you just go? You stood up, and peered over into the waves.

Just then, you heard the surface break behind you, and gasps for air. You whipped around, nearly falling off as you did. Your knees hit the netting in the tube as you crashed down. “Guys?” You asked, paddling over to them. 

Dipper was holding Mabel, who looked more shaken up, and swimming towards you. You offered a hand, and he made Mabel take it first. Only sliding around a little bit, you managed to help haul her into the tube beside you. 

Next was Dipper. Three people in one tube was not great, but it beat touching the water. You caught a glimpse of the shadow fish under you just as Dipper was climbing on. You held the pizza slice float like a weapon to bat it away if it tried anything. It didn’t. 

Dipper and Mabel were panting, and Dippers eyes were locked on the water. 

“Guys, what happened?” You asked, starting to paddle to the dock. If you could climb up onto it, you wouldn’t have to be on the water so long. Dipper must have had the same idea, because he started helping. 

But he also kept looking back at the water. The fish was gone, though. He hummed lowly, “there was-“

”-That bitch had arms!” Mabel shouted, staring at her hands. They were shaking a little. “And they were fucking gross!” 

You grimaced. Fish with arms. Alright. You got to the dock, and Mabel was talking about the fish with arms, and black hollow eyes, according to her. The dock wasn’t too high off the water. With a boost at the feet, you and Dip got Mabel up first, then you, then you both helped to pull him up. You had his hands, so he brought the floats up one with his leg, and one with his teeth. 

You all sat on the dock a moment, catching your breath. You looked around. Nobody seemed to notice the commotion, somehow. 

“Guys!” Mabel shouted, pointing at the water.

You rushed over to the edge to see. The big fish was moving towards the shore, and closer to the surface. You could see the… arms.. flowing at its sides more clearly now that Mabel pointed them out. 

You scanned the beach. Nobody was too near the water except… Ford, kneeling by the waterline with a little machine. You sucked a breath in through your teeth, “God, Fuck.”

The fish moved pretty fast. The three of you stood up, and started to run.

Running felt weird on the head. You slowed to a jog while the others sped to Ford. 

The fish got there first, though. Dipper and Mabel were calling his name, but Ford didn’t seem to be listening. He was staring at the water. The dark shadow was swirling where he knelt, and Ford seemed hypnotized. 

“Cathrine, you came!” He said giddily. His eyes were wide and enchanted as the fish emerges from the water. 

The twins slowed down, stopping to stare. You caught up to have with them. The fish, apparently named Cathrine, was disgusting. It… or maybe she- had arms that moved and sagged and hung like kelp, and were the same colour, too. She didn’t have fingers, instead just… leaves. Her hair was a wet lump of darker plant, cooled down her back. Her skin was also a murky green, and feathered with plants and dusted with sand.

Mabel was gaping, and pointed at the slimy kelp hands, “oh my god, that touched me,” she said meekly. 

“Great uncle Ford!” Dipper yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Get away from that, it’s dangerous!”

His warning were in vein, though. Ford finally looked over at the three of you on the docks, and just waved happily, “Hi Kids!” then went back to staring into Cathrines eyes. Or… actually you weren’t sure if it had eyes, you didn’t see its face. 

Dipper started speed walking to him again, and you and Mabel followed behind. He stopped suddenly, “wait, Cathrine?” He said, one hand moving to his chin. 

You and Mabel shared a glance, silently agreeing not to interrupt his thought process.

”Cathrine- ugh, where do I recognize that…” he grumbled, string between the wood planks of the dock into the water. He snapped his fingers, “oh my god, I’ve got it,” he said, looking at Ford again. “Great uncle Ford wrote in the journal, he used to date a siren names Cathrine, do you guys think…” he trailed off, and you all looked at the big fish again. 

Yeah, she could look like a Cathrine.

“Okay, so let’s kick her away from him, right?” You asked, eying Cathrine. 

They nodded. 

When Ford saw you all approaching again, he grinned even wider at you. He pointed the three of you out to Cathrine, who turned her head to look, and for the first time you saw she did have eyes. She had hollow, pure black eyes, and completely sunken in skin, worn down like when water blazes a trail into stone. Her cheeks could have been a river, and her wrinkles like streams. 

“Kids, come meet Cathy!” Ford called happily. How Stan was still asleep on the chair with a magazine over his face, you’d never understand. 

Dipper practically wheezed, “fucking Cathy?” He looked frantically between you and Mabel, then back to Ford. He shouted across the water again, “That thing tried to drown Mabel!”

Ford waved his hand, “she wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly, possibly forgetting that you were all across the dock from him.

That might’ve been the last straw. The three of you started running to the shore again to catch Ford before something unfortunate happened. You had to slow down for your head, but even in a jog the old planks of the dock hammered under your feet. 

“You’ll love her,” Ford declared happily, taking her slimy kelp hands in his own to hold lovingly. “I think we’re going to finally tie the knot!”

Mabel had to stop running to cough and sputter as she started to laugh. “Go on without me,” she wheezed, planting her hands on her knees to support herself.

You heard Dipper mumble under his breath at her, but he kept forward towards Ford. When your feet hit the sand and dirt off the ground, Dipper was already close. Mabel coughed behind you as she caught up.

Ford was entranced in Cathrines eyes, and she was subtly pulling him closer by the hands. Well, not that subtle, actually, if you could notice from across the beach. Subtle enough that Ford didn’t seem to pay any mind. “I can’t believe it,” he said dreamily. “After all these years, I found you again.”

 ”No fucking shot,” you said, turning to Mabel as the two of you rested. Damn your head. Dipper was the only one doing anything productive. 

Catherine pulled harder, and Ford started idly leaning more toward the water, until he was wading in on his knees to follow her direction. It was only when she smiled wide that you saw her mouth. Her lips blended well into her skin, almost unnoticeable until she opened her jaw, and you could see the rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. 

“Great uncle Ford, no!” Dipper said, as if he was scolding a dog. 

You and Mabel shared a glance, and decided rest time was over. You both tried to catch up with them. 

Just as Cathy tried to yank Ford into the water, Dipper practically tackled him, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling him back. “Great uncle Ford, snap out of it!” He yelled, turning his head so he didn’t scream in Fords ear. 

“D-dipper, what are you doing?” Ford asked, with all the hurt in his tone of a kicked puppy. He fought back against Dipper, and was far stronger. 

Luckily, just as he broke free, and Dippers grasp broke, you and Mabel got there. She took his arms, pulling them out of Cathy’s grip, while you shoved Ford onto his side in the sand and held him down. Ford tried to thrash and resist, but Mabel kept a firmer grip than Dipper did. 

“Ford, you fuck,” you said, looking as Cathrines deranged smile curled into a teeth scowl. “Do we have to kill you? What’s going on?” 

“She’s the love of my life!” 

Dipper groaned, glaring down Cathrine. 

Ford struggled against you and Mabel, hard. Mabel grumbled holding back his arms as his thrashing grew more desperate the closer Cathrine inched to the sand. Ford tried to wiggle towards her, so you sat on him to hold him down.

You looked to Dipper, expecting help. Or for him to swat the creature away. Instead, he was staring down Cathy, with what at first looked like a glare, but you went on to realize was… a trance. “God fucking-“ you started. You tried to reach him without moving too far from your post, but it didn’t work. At least Dip wasn’t moving. 

Cathy had turned her attention to your boyfriend, and Ford was not happy. “Cathy?” He practically begged. 

You were also not happy. “Dip,” you said, snapping your finger at him to get his attention. It didn’t work. In fact, he hadn’t blinked the whole time you’d been looking at him. You glanced back at Mabel, still holding thrashing arms. Ugh. “Dipper, snap the fuck out of it,” you complained. 

The siren creeped closer to him, and he made no effort to move away. Worse, he knelt down to her level. Mabel seemed to notice too, “uh, bro?” She asked. 

“Ok, Mabes, let’s both agree not to look too hard at Cathy, alright?” You said, trying to keep the fish out of your peripheral. “Cuz he can’t look away right now.”

Mabel nodded, averting her eyes. At the very least, Ford was calming down. Well, no. Calm was not the right word. Ford was depressed and disparaged like you’d never seen before, practically melting into the sand rather than thrashing for escape. 

You tentatively got up from Ford. The moment your weight was off him, he sprang up and tried to lunge for Cathrine. “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled, tackling him again and holding him down. A low groan escaped his lips. 

Things were getting worse for Dipper though. Slowly, as if crossing a threshold, he outstretched his hand for Cathrine, despite Fords despondent wails. Her disgusting slimy leaves were dangling above him as she lowered them onto his palm. You made mental note not to touch his hands until he washed them.

You looked at Mabel. There seemed to be a stalemate going on. “Ok, what if one of us takes arms and body,” you suggested, looking at Fords sad face resting in the sand. 

“Oh!” She perked up. “I can try,” she offered. 

“Uh, on three?” You asked. You shared a nod and started to count.

On three, you leapt up towards Dipper, shoved him out of the way. You pressed your eyes into a squint as you faced Cathy, trying to avoid her face. Holy fuck her gross hand was near your legs. 

You squirmed at the thought of that touching you, and your legs moved on their own. In a swift motion that you didn’t even fully register, Cathrine was kicked in the head. Easy, since she was low to the ground on the water. 

The moment your foot collided with her face, you regretted it. Still barefoot, you could feel her grainy, slimy skin on yours, and feel the way her jaw moved with your hit, and the way it freaked with the motion. You squeaked as you recoiled away, almost wanting to cleave your foot from your body. 

Cathrine hissed, with a remarkably similar reaction to you. She slithered away back under the water like a snake, and swam away. That was all it took? 

You looked back to take stock. Mabel had knocked the wind out of Ford landing on his back, taking his arms down with her in a makeshift arm bar. Why in gods name she wasn’t doing that the whole time, you didn’t know. With Cathy gone though, he seemed to be doing better, and was actually spitting out the sand that had gotten in his mouth instead of gnawing on it defeatedly. 

You glanced at Dipper, who blinked a few times. His eyes were watery, probably recovering from the dry spell staring context he seemed to have with Cathrine. “Hey, so-“ he started, looking at you, the Ford and Mabel, then the empty spot in the water where the siren was. “Um, what happened just now?”

You snickered, “Found out you’re into old fish hags.”

Ford mumbled out a dazed, “Don’t call her that, she’s a beautiful woman.” None of that was factually correct. She looked more like a fish. 

Dippers face reddened. “I-“ he stopped himself, jaw hanging slightly open. He closed it, pursing his lips, “Yeah, I got nothing, actually.”

You rolled your eyes, and offered him a hand up. “Yeah, I didn’t think so, you freak,” you laughed smugly, “should I be jealous?”

He took the hand, brushing the sand off his legs. “Uh, maybe not you,” he said, glancing back at the ground. “But Great uncle Ford should be.”

He groaned again from the ground, and Mabel got off of him. “Do you guys, uh, wanna leave?”

You stared at the water a moment, scanning for anymore dark shadows underneath. Your eyes caught on the boat Wendy’s siblings were on. “Yeah, alright,” you affirmed. “Is somebody gonna wake Stan?”

“Not it,” Mabel said. You quickly echoed her, leaving Dipper the odd one out. 

“Why are you guys the worst?” He said, walking off toward Stans chair. Ford mumbled an agreement from the ground, and you were fine to call the beach episode done. The water was not looking amazing after seeing its creatures. And you had to go home and wash your foot as soon as possible, since cutting it off wasn’t an option. 

Next

Chat I did smth scary 💀 after like 2 years I’ve given my friend fanfic privileges back. I got one friend who matches my freak and I can trust to read my fucking x readers. Trying to write this chapter was so stressful cuz for once I was self aware of my cringe.

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop @dead-esque @phobo-ss

[queen-haq]

Fic: Grudgingly Yours, Part 11

Grudgingly Yours, Part 11

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A  - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Billy didn’t know when it happened. Sometimes he thought it was instantaneous, like those cartoon images when someone got a brilliant idea and a light blub flashed on. Other times, it was the absolute opposite. A slow warmth that spread over him, a feeling that he never knew existed. The longing intensified over time, grew more potent with each interaction, escalating from lukewarm to a searing heat that took over him completely.

It was a complete mystery to him, but ultimately the how didn’t matter. End result was the same - he was in love with you.

But he didn’t want to be, he fought it with everything he had.

For so long his only goal was to destroy those who hurt Frank and him. He spent years obsessing over it, gathering as much info as possible so he could track down the fuckers. Because once they were dead, the nightmares would cease. He’d stop hearing Frank’s struggling words while taking his last dying breath. The tortures, the beatings, the smell of burning skin – the horrific memories would end and he’d be the same soldier he was before they were captured. The chaos in his mind, the restlessness and insomnia – all of that fueled his drive for revenge.

And then you came along.

At first you were the thing he had to bear because his grandfather insisted. He needed the old man’s money and connections to find the kidnappers and figured he’d make your life a living hell until you left him. Except you ended up being completely different than he’d expected. Not quiet, not meek, definitely not docile – all the qualities his grandfather wanted. Instead you were loud and bossy, and you didn’t take shit. From him or Alistair. You fought back. You argued. And you definitely retaliated when things got dicey. You defended him when he’d been a complete ass to you, for no reason other than the fact you didn’t like bullies. That’s what Billy couldn’t understand, how you could threaten to poison him one night and then defend him the next. You were a fucking enigma.

On the anniversary of Frank’s death, when Billy had been at his absolute worst and no amount of alcohol or drugs could quiet the bloodcurdling memories in his mind, you offered him comfort. You held him, hugged him, cradled him to sleep – and it was the first night of rest he’d gotten in months. You did that for him, despite all the insults he hurled your way. You had compassion for him, and others, and a kind of strange empathy he simply didn’t understand and it fascinated him. It was such a direct contrast to how you spoke when you were angry, how you proudly wore the label of golddigger, how you talked smack to Alistair. You were a complete bitch yet you were busting your butt trying to open a clinic for people who no one gave a shit about. He didn’t get why. He didn’t get you. And that curiosity drove his fixation for you, thoughts of you clouding his mind more and more. It wasn’t until Curtis’s wedding that he realized if he were to let you, you could make him abandon his quest for revenge. Seeing Maria there, knowing how easily he could forget his promise to Frank, it hit him like a ton of bricks the hold you had over him. He tried to deny it, to himself, to you, tried to ignore his growing feelings for you, to hate you, but he couldn’t. Until Dinah came to the wedding with news about Frank’s killers, and then he realized it was a sign from the universe he needed to refocus on what really mattered – justice for himself, for Frank. Making the murderers pay. There was no room for you in his mind or his heart. You didn’t belong in his life. So he humiliated you, knowing that would make it easy for you to hate him before he took off for certain death. Even if there was a small chance he’d survive, he didn’t want to be with someone who held so much fucking power over him.

Of course that turned out to be complete bullshit.

Instead of fading, his feelings intensified during the past two months. And they didn’t distract him from his mission. No, the complete opposite. Having you in his mind helped him stay focused - there was no way he’d let his enemies live when they could get to him again. Or you. Fuck no. So he hunted them down meticulously and killed them all, wiping out all traces that could come back to haunt him.

After he accomplished what he set out to do, he came rushing back because he couldn’t stand the fucking ache in his soul anymore. Two long months had passed without any contact with you and he’d had enough. The longing for you was palpable, a living, breathing black hole that strengthened more and more everyday and wreaked havoc with his fucking mind. The only thing that brought him any peace was the thought of seeing you again. Your laugh, your voice, your scent. How your eyes lit up when you got the upper hand on him. The way your face scrunched up into the most adorable scowl when you were concentrating on work. The tender expression on your face when you connected with him emotionally.

But when he got home at three in the morning, there was no sign of you in the penthouse.

The bottom floor was clean and pristine. The living room, which you’d made into a makeshift office, was free of its usual clutter. Your bedroom was untouched, your closets empty. He’d been in your room a few times over the months - discreetly so you weren’t aware – and knew your penchant for choas  Makeup scattered on the bathroom counter. Clothes piled on the nearby recliner. But there was nothing of you left in that room, like you’d never been there in the first place. And that fucked him up badly. Because it never occurred to him you’d leave. After all, you’d made a goddamn deal with Alistair. And the two of you were married. That meant something.  But seeing your room empty, discovering all of your things gone, recognizing he’d fucked up so bad that you left – he couldn’t stand it. He needed you. He wanted you.

He loved you.

And he wasn’t going to lose you.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!”

Your rage-filled voice brought him out of his reverie instantly. He knew you’d be pissed, was counting on it actually, because it was how he could get you to drop the ice-queen mask. And his plan worked, if your fiery eyes were any indication. His hands gripped your wrists, his body pressed against yours so he could feel every inch of you as you struggled against him. You didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure. Only a few seconds ago you’d tried to hurt him with the glass you were holding, but he’d managed to swerve it away.

“Why are you here, you fucking psychopath?” you screamed, panting for air.

Your cheeks were flushed, lips still red from lipstick you were wearing. You looked hot, so fucking hot, and he couldn’t stop staring. There was a time when you meant nothing to him and now all he wanted was to immerse himself in you completely.

You tried to knee him in the groin but he blocked the move by stepping aside, easing his grip on you. At that moment you tried to escape but didn’t get far, running over the glass shards that lay on the floor. Hearing you groan with pain, he quickly rushed over. As he tried to pick you up, you fought back hard and kicked him repeatedly. That’s when he noticed you were bleeding. Shit. “Calm the fuck down!”

“Go to hell!

Using all his strength, he pulled out the zip ties from his back pocket and secured them around your wrists. It wasn’t easy with you pushing and shoving at him, but he finally managed to wrangle you under control. Throwing you on the bed, he then secured the zip ties around your feet.

“Asshole!”

He stood back. Peering back at you, he was mesmerized. Fuck, you were so hot. And now you were all tied up and screaming mad, like one of his fantasies come to life, and all he wanted was to fuck you senseless. He was hard just watching you squirm, but he forced himself to snap out of it. You were bleeding. Storming over to the bathroom, he started looking through the cabinets until he found some first-aid supplies. He took a quick glance at the mirror only to find the top of his shirt covered in blood spots. Shit. Apparently you’d managed to cut him earlier but he hadn’t noticed.

Grabbing some stuff, he returned to the bedroom. You were still on the bed where he left you, glaring at him.

“I need to clean your cut. Promise you won’t kick?”

“I promise I’ll kick your teeth out!”

He smiled at you affectionately, unable to help himself. “Thought of murdering me always gets you hot, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. Come closer. Give me a knife and I’ll show you how hot.”

He sauntered forward. “I’m trying to help you here.”

“By sneaking into my apartment and tying me up? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The fight earlier had messed up your hairstyle, leaving your hair wild and messy. His fingers ached to run through the strands, the smell of your shampoo etched into his brain. Extending his hand, his finger twirled around one of the loose curls when you suddenly tried to bite him. He grinned at you, enjoying the burst of angry red that spread through your cheeks. “Still not ready to play nice?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

The top button of your shirt had ripped off, drawing attention to the curve of your breasts peeking out from underneath. Fuck. Your tits. He remembered the sensation of sinking his face in your cleavage, the way your breath shuddered when he was sucking on your nipples.

“Billy!”

Snapping out of his daze, his gaze trailed up to meet yours. “You’re coming home with me.”

You stared back at him defiantly. “Fuck you! I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll slit my own wrists before I go anywhere with you!”

He cupped your face with both hands. “No, sweetheart. It’s that fuckboy who’ll die if you don’t.”

You froze immediately, concern flooding your face. It was a punch to his gut, seeing how much you cared about the fucker.

“What did you do to him?”

Billy clenched his jaw. “He touched you, after I warned him not to. He had to pay for that.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You swallowed an audible gulp. “Did you hurt him?”                       

He knelt down on the floor and started inspecting your knee. “He’s alive. For now.”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice cracked for just a second, enough for him to realize the turmoil you were in.

He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, grateful you weren’t pushing back this time. With a gentle touch he washed your bruised knee and tended to your cut. When you grimaced from the sting of the rubbing alcohol, he blew soft air on the wound, trying to ease your pain. He sensed your eyes following his every gesture, waiting for him to make his next move.

You were perched on the bathroom counter, your hands and feet still bound. Standing up to his full height once he bandaged your knee, he met your gaze. Whatever you were feeling a few seconds ago had dissipated, replaced by a glacial glint in your eyes.

Your voice was filled with contempt when you spoke next.  “So what’s the plan? You gonna use Calvin against me?”

There were so many things he wanted to say to you. That he was sorry. That he’d fucked up. That he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Yours was the face he saw every time he closed his eyes, and the person he dreamt about when he wasn’t haunted by nightmares. With you he felt alive, hopeful, and more than just a ball of rage that dominated his life for so many years. But he didn’t say any of that. He couldn’t. Because it scared the fuck out of him. It was so much easier to show you instead.

He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, and this time you didn’t try and bite him. Progress. And then he cupped your face with one hand, thumb stroking your cheek, while the other hand slowly caressed the skin under the plastic around your wrists. “Fuckboy will be fine as long as you do what I say.”

“Is this because of Alistair? If he’s-”

“I don’t give a fuck about him. He has nothing to do with this.”

“Then what difference does it make? I don’t have to move back. We can stay married and live separate lives.”

He peered at you closely, studying every inch of your face. “That’s not what I want.”

Agitated, you glared at him. “What do you want then?”

His mouth closed over yours.

He didn’t intend for it to be a rough kiss, opposite in fact. He wanted to show you another part of him, reveal to you that he wasn’t always an asshole, but as usual his plans had a way of fucking up. Instead of tenderness, he kissed you with a raw urgency, venting all the pent-up frustration of missing you. And you returned his kiss with equal ferocity, tongue against tongue, teeth clashing, not letting him slow down, driving him crazy with your mouth. His hands wrapped around the back of your head. Holding you tight, he pulled you close. A muffled moan escaped you, and it suddenly dawned on him your hands were still cuffed. Feeling guilty at your discomfort, he pulled away. Panting for air, he pressed his forehead against yours while pulling out his blade from the inside of his jacket. You were equally out of breath, your eyes a whirlwind of firestorm before you closed them.

Just for a moment it was like the last night he’d spent with you. No pretensions, no fucking games, only the two of you consumed with each other. He reached for your wrists, dropping soft kisses on where the zip ties had left an imprint. And you let him, not struggling with him or pushing back.

“Is this part of the deal, Billy?” The softness in your voice directly contradicted the hardness in your gaze. “If I fuck you, you’ll let him go?”

Your words disgusted him, making him sick to his stomach. “I don’t need blackmail to get you to fuck me.”

You snickered, shaking your head. “Oh, that’s beneath you? But you have no issues blackmailing me to live with you?”

He cocked his eyebrow. “I’m playing the only card I have left at this point.”

You stared back at him with an incredulous expression. “Seriously? My life is a game to you? Calvin-”

“Stop fucking saying his name!” Billy spat out.

He tried. He tried to stay calm and not lose it, tried not to think about you fucking that asshole. Tried to tell himself you deserved to move on after how he ended things - but he couldn’t stand it anymore. Couldn’t stand the thought of you touching that fucker, sleeping with him, laughing with him. Talking with him. It was driving Billy crazy. Did you hold him close at night and tell him about your day? Did you rest your head on his chest until you fell asleep? Did you let him hug you? Comfort you? Did you let him love you?

Fuck no. No. No. No.

“You’re my fucking wife!” He grasped your face, squeezing your cheeks. “You're the only thing that kept me sane these last few months. I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how to anymore. I don’t know how to be me again. You’re all I fucking think about!”

You froze, eyes brimming with shock.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.” He pressed his temple against yours, pleading with you. “Give me a chance- “

‘So you can treat me like trash again?” You shook your head. “No. I’m done with you.”

Your voice trembled, you were struggling to contain your emotions. Instinctively he knew your cold façade would be up again, that there was no point in forcing you to talk at this time.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Billy stepped back. As quick as you, he composed himself outwardly. “You might be done. But I’m not.” He knelt down and cut off the zip tie that bound your feet together. “We need to get going. I’ll help you pack your things.” Rising to his full height, he leveled you with a somber expression. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Or Calvin’s gonna lose a lot more than just his fingers.”

He turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

A/N - Um, thoughts? As always, thank you for the wonderful feedback. I truly appreciate all of the comments and messages I receive; it's what inspires me to keep writing!

[faglovesongs]

it went well!! ^_^

this guy i like is coming over tmrw and MAN! i am nervous

[skk-forever]

“As if, you brat.” Dazai sneers. “I only became an executive when I was fifteen, and, well…scaling for the difference in intelligence between us, Chuuya might become an executive in five billion years.”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya snaps. “What ‘difference in intelligence’? You’re as dumb as they come—”

“The entire mafia calls me the Demon Prodigy—”

“And I call you stupid-face, you mackerel-eyed asshole!” Chuuya lifts his hand to his forehead, sticking out his pointer finger and thumb in the shape of an L. He uses his ability to pop up the floorboard under Dazai’s feet, and Dazai stumbles. Chuuya cackles.

Dazai’s eye twitches. “You’re so immature — are you a kindergartner? It’d make sense, seeing as you’re the height of one, no, maybe half of one?”

“You’re a fucking fish!” Chuuya points at him. “All you do is flop around and make stupid idiot sounds!”

“Your insults are utterly juvenile—”

“Blub blub blub, fucker!” Chuuya yells over him. “Go back to the ocean, you finned freak! Oh wait,” Chuuya snorts. “You can’t swim…!”

Chuuya watches Dazai’s face turn red in real time. “I don’t need to know how to swim, I’m not leading the naval units—!”

“You looked like a drenched rat after ‘Evening with Sunlight’!” Chuuya delights in Dazai’s mounting frustration. “If pigeons are rats with wings, you’re a rat with fins—call that the Dazai-pia—”

“That’s not even a good pun, Chuuya, you’re so stupid—” Dazai grumbles. “When I find an animal that can capture how dumb you are, it’s over for you—”

"It's the Port Mafia, not the Desert Mafia—"

"Are you done?!"

yk how like Republicans can't stand being mocked and called 'weird'? yeah that's the kind of stupid shit that works on Dazai

he's a fifteen year old that never gets treated like a fifteen year old and barely gets treated like a human being by the rest of the mafia — he's spent his entire life sneering at the other teenagers that have fun and get annoyed ribbing each other (immature. meaningless.) only to have this red head bitch barrel into his life and hit him with some S-tier preschool-grade bullying and yk what it is annoying and he is gonna stoop down to that level and bully him back with the stupidest pranks, and oh, he's getting frustrated and talking and laughing a lot more than before

(is this what being alive feels like?)

(excerpt from WIP of Ch. 4 of "Forever" (guys im working on it it'll be done soon i promise))

[darksideaskblog]

The Breton stared and finally saw the other come out and hang onto a nearby tree, and even though he was holding the crossbow, the Breton glared at the man lowering it slightly. What the elf said made him scoff. Did this man think he was stupid? He knew a vampire when he saw one, and since he’d been around the Daedric Prince for so long, he knew damned well this was in fact a vampire.

As the elf claimed he was the Slayer’s friend, the Breton still kept his crossbow pointed to the vampire. He was wary and something like this had happened before, when he’d first escaped the Daedric Prince’s lair another “injured” vampire had begged for his help only for him to give in then be sent straight back to Molag and punished harshly. He was not going to let that happen again. He was not going to fall for it again and nor was he going to get punished for it again either. The Slayer was not a stupid man, and he kept his green eyes plastered on the elf vampire and his crossbow pointed at him as he finally sat down again and nodded to a seat beside him. He never let go of his crossbow, and he never let go of the trigger, and he always kept it pointing at the seemingly injured vampire to make sure he wasn’t messed with again.

The Slayer’s green pale eyes stayed plastered on the vampire, as he watched and with his free hand, began pouring some more stew into a bowl and he spoke, his voice firm, “Do you eat food, dear?”

A Parasite in Nirn

( @vampiric-bite )

It took him what felt like years, but he made it out of that hell hole of the very god of schemes himself and all while that large Daedra was sleeping. He’d found his clothes and weapons and snuck out of the prince’s bedchamber and after a few minutes he was outside the castle, trying to dodge the sight of the guards. Once he’d made sure they weren’t looking, he slipped away and was now out in Coldharbour alone and cold and he held onto himself as he walked a dirt path. He’d forgotten how cold this place could get, and he was very thankful he’d found his armor and weapons, his bow and quiver of arrows, his duel daggers and of course a crossbow and bolts.

The Slayer scanned the area around him as he stopped for a second, his black shoulder length hair fluttering against his pale face as his green eyes darted around him. He was somewhat muscular, he was fit but not to the extent that the Shadow was, the Shadow had muscle and was strong. Aside from that, the Slayer’s green eyes stopped somewhere tucked between the trees and a sick smile formed on his face. Yes a spot to be hidden from that prince’s view! And just as soon as he said that, the Slayer immediately began getting firewood. As fast as he could, he’d made a fire and food and was now warming himself as he cooked some elk stew, Coldharbour elk stew.

The one thing he did have on from the prince however was the earring, it was long and hanging off his left ear, and it had the head of Molag Bal himself on it and it’s bale blue eyes were glowing bright. He’d tried to yank it off earlier but he was met with a very unwelcomed zap if his hand even tried to touch it. Which was great, oh so great. As he sipped on the broth of his elk stew, he continued to think about how to yank the damned thing off, clearly it was made sure he couldn’t unless Molag himself did it, and he dreaded going back to the prince with every fiber of his being. The Slayer might have been gay and a slut for attention, but not what he went through while he was in the Daedric Prince’s bedchamber. Yes it did feel amazing, and he felt warm, but he did not feel safe, not one bit.

He was claimed by Molag Bal himself, but he knew at some point or another that he’d have to go back a beg for the prince to remove the earring claiming him, but in all honesty, he was scared to. The Daedric Prince’s wrath was no joke, he’d experienced that first hand, and did not want to experience it again.

He was just about to pour himself a second helping of his stew when he’d heard a shuffle in the trees behind him, and he stopped what he was doing immediately and snatched his crossbow and held it at the ready, hoping to hell it wasn’t Molag coming to reclaim his territory and in genuine anger, he hissed out, “Come out dear, in not in the mood to play these games with you. I don’t care who you are! If you don’t come out in ten seconds I will start firing!”

The Slayer glared as he watched the bush he’d thought the sound was coming from, begging it not to be Molag Bal. Please don’t let it be him.

[princessanneftw]

Sorry, Charles, but the answer to everything is Princess Anne

By Deborah Ross for The Times

This week, a royal quiz because, come on, you thought you’d get away without one? This week of all weeks? And if you actually did think you’d get away without one, and I don’t mean this spitefully, aren’t you somewhat dense?

However, in the light of the no-fluff, no-nonsense interview Princess Anne recently gave to Canadian television and all the admiration that unleashed, and in my belief that you don’t like to be overstretched on a Thursday morning, particularly as some of you are still recovering from the news that Jacob Rees-Mogg finds broad beans “loathsome” — it isn’t yet known what broad beans make of him; I will ask next time I push one to the side of my plate* — I have decided to make this easy for you.

The answer, in every instance, is “Princess Anne”. Again, I don’t mean this spitefully, but if you get one wrong you will have no one to blame but yourself.

● Who is the best king we’ll never have, would have been known as “King Anne I”, and would have told those Repair Shop people to “just get on with it” and stop blubbing all over the place and let me know when you’re finished as I have to go kick ass and am behind with kicking ass as it is? (“I get up at 4.30am to kick ass but the day runs away with me all the same, Jay.”)

● Who was not their mother’s favourite child, which, to quote Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, proved “a big mistake. BIG! HUGE!”?

● Who sits somewhere between Kate being marvellous (and “dazzling”) for just wearing a dress and Meghan being an evil bitch and the new Stalin simply for adopting a different hairstyle?

● Who has never, ever suddenly adopted a different hairstyle and therefore can’t be either an evil bitch or the new Stalin?

● If someone attempted to kidnap you on The Mall and you thought, “What would a royal do in this instance?” which royal would most spring to mind? Particularly if you wished to tell the kidnapper, “Not bloody likely.”

● Ranking them in order, which royal do you suspect rolls their eyes at Fergie the most?

● If you had to bet on one royal retaking America, who would it be?

● Which royal was never dubbed “Randy Annie” or “Air Miles Annie” because they never adopted the kind of freeloading, entitled, licentious lifestyle that would one day bite them on the arse and have them running to Mummy?

● Who, of all the family, do you suspect most often swears like a sailor under their breath and would smoke Woodbines, if they smoked?

● Which royal would be most likely to run over Paddington in their Range Rover and not look back?

● Who demanded that titles weren’t conferred on their children, saying they’d have to earn their own money, and also, chances are, campaigned, albeit unsuccessfully, for Princess Eugenie and Princess Beatrice to get married at Hackney Town Hall followed by Nando’s?

● If a royal were to meet Greg Davies in a post-performance line-up, who would be most able to think up a brutal snub along the lines of, “A lot of ex-teachers become comedians. I can’t see why”?

● Which royal most probably inherited their mother’s Tupperware and will keep it going for future generations, thereby ensuring no royal cornflakes ever go soft?

● Which royal could probably get a potato to peel itself and leap into hot fat just by looking at it?

● Who sliced and diced Cherie Blair at Balmoral in 1997 by refusing to call her “Cherie”, as requested, and instead said, “Let’s not go that way. Let’s stick to Mrs Blair, shall we?”?

● Which royal taught their mother to use Zoom during Covid — “you should have six people on your screen . . . you don’t need to see me. You know what I look like” — but probably gave up on teaching her to text, like we all do, so no judgment there?

● Which royal probably couldn’t be bothered to even get their mother started with online banking?

● Who has inherited a look that amounts to wearing a headscarf tied under the chin like an old Greek lady guiding a donkey down a lane with a stick?

● Who has a look that, for some reason, never sells out everywhere the next day?

● Which royal did The Crown reveal to have been an absolute goer in their youth?

● Which royal did, in fact, have different hair as a young child and looked the spit of Harpo Marx?

● Which royal once reportedly said of Princess Diana, “I will not be pushed around by that brainless woman”?

● If you had all their numbers, which royal would you call if you needed a chicken’s neck wringing?

● If you had to come up with a royal who once appeared on Wogan while looking for all the world as if they’d prefer to have had their head on the chopping block like that other Anne, the Boleyn one, who would that be?

● Which royal do you most imagine would give you a horsewhipping** if you didn’t close the Tupperware properly, thus failing to maintain its airtight seal and letting the cornflakes go soft?

● Which royal has best withstood all the scandals as well as their own divorce and has provided so little grist for the newspapers we might as well all just go home?

● Which royal kind of reminds you of Willa from Succession, who sees everything that goes on in this family but knows if you get too involved you’ll be torn apart and fed to the wolves?

● Lastly, of all the royals, who would you name as the one who actually gets what being a royal is all about?

(*Funnily enough, I did push a broad bean to the side of my plate just now and it said: “The feeling is mutual”)

(**Or a savaging from her dog Dotty)

[smokechef-vince]

mrrp mrrrow mrrow meowww

(Blub blub bitch)

-🐟

Meow