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loves-alibi · 27 days ago

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changes

or: you married a butcher, not a martyr.

MDNI simon "ghost" riley x f!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of torture, reader is hashtag depressed, mentions of death (assumed death), simon is a weirdo at the end <3

*****

He’s a butcher, an apprentice actually. Every Monday through Saturday, regulars flock to the shop, where Simon, the gentle giant behind the counter, takes their order with a smile. Kids love him, always excited to see the man who tells droll jokes when their mothers, who are more interested in the way he winks at them after throwing in an extra quarter of a pound of meat, aren’t listening.

Simon is the talk of the block. Every nosy soul wants to know his deal. It’s not like he came out of nowhere. Simon was born and raised on the streets of Manchester, but there’s an intrigue about the young man that was never tapped into until he took up working at that shop, chopping and slicing up people’s dinners while asking 'how's the family?’.

So it’s no surprise when one day an old lady, a regular at the establishment, asks Simon, elbow-deep in raw lamb, if he’s single.

After breaking the news that he wouldn’t like to make a habit of dating customers, she explains that her granddaughter (“She’s about your age and– you’ll see –she’s the prettiest girl in all of England.”) is in town.

Before he even thinks, the woman scribbles on her receipt for three lamb chops an address and 8pm.

Eight hours later he stands outside of her house, a bouquet of flowers in hand and the receipt folded neatly in his back pocket. Before he has the chance to ring the bell, the door flies open, bombarding Simon with the scent of roasting meat and floral perfume. Standing barely at his chest height is the woman from the shop. She calls a name, and round the corner comes her granddaughter.

Simon almost drops the bouquet in his hands. Your grandmother really didn’t lie about how lovely you are. Even as you abscond her (“You didn’t tell me he was actually coming tonight!”) Simon can’t stop staring at you.

Dinner goes by as awkwardly as you could have expected. Your grandmother sits at the head of the table, you and Simon at opposite sides, kicking each other awkwardly each time either of you crossed or uncrossed your legs. She prompts you two with conversation starters.

Darling, tell him about your job.

Simon, I hear you have a brother.

It’s like pulling teeth. The whole night Simon is kicking himself for not meeting you elsewhere, where he could make a real and good impression without watching eyes. It’s over, he thinks when you finally pull the plug on the evening, dismissing Simon with the excuse that you have to work early the next morning. It’s a shame, he really thought that, despite everything, you two had a connection. There were enough fleeting glances and shy smiles from you for Simon to really believe.

You at least have the decency to walk him to the door, thanking him for entertaining your grandmother and for being such polite company. And, with a glance over your shoulder confirming that the coast is clear, you pull Simon in by the lapels for a kiss, it’s chaste and quick, but has Simon’s chest heaving up and down.

“There’s a pub down the street, you know it?” You ask. Simon nods his head dumbly, his lips still tingling. “She goes to sleep early. Meet me there in an hour, yeah?”

He practically skips to the pub. He orders two pints and waits and why did he order you a pint? It'll be warm by the time you get here and he doesn’t even know if you like beer. This was such a bad idea, you’re probably not even going to–

Fifty-two minutes later you walk through the door, chest heaving and hair tousled. You ran. You really ran to see him.

As you down your pint, he sends a silent thank you to whoever answered his prayers because– wow –you’re here and even more beautiful than he could imagine, with a bead of beer slipping out of the corner of your mouth and dripping down your neck.

The next morning, you two wake up naked in Simon’s bed with headaches and a ring on your finger– his nan’s ring to be precise, the one she explicitly told him to give only to the girl. There’s a voice in the back of his head that says he should be mad to have given it away in a drunken stupor to some girl he just met. But then you laugh, saying, “I’m engaged.” And he laughs with you, a sinking feeling telling him that drunk Simon may have gotten it right.

Simon watches you observe the ring glitter in the morning sun. “Do you want to be?”

You scrunch your nose at the question. “Depends,” you say, dragging out the final ‘s’. Simon blanches. “What’s your last name?” You ask, scrutinizing him.

Simon loses his breath as he stares into your eyes. You’re laying naked, halfway on top of him, and yet it’s the way you look at him that makes his world tilt. He barely manages to stutter out, “R–Riley. Simon Riley.”

“Riley… Mrs. Riley.” Your features soften. “Yeah, I think I want to be.”

In three months, you’re married. It’s a real, proper wedding with both sides of the family there. Simon washes the sinew and blood from his hands and gets all dressed up. He’d pick his bloody apron over a suit any day, but the smile on your face when you see him down the aisle is enough to make getting all dolled up worth it.

Your grandmother dies a happy woman shortly after your wedding. She leaves you the house and well wishes for your future (and with the request to name her future great-grandchildren after her).

Marriage suits Simon. He leaves you for work each morning before the sun is up. You wake hours later to a cold bed yet a warm cup of coffee in the kitchen. He comes home at five o’clock on the dot with a pound of meat cut and ready to cook, which he does. It fills some caveman-basal part of him– the ability to provide for his wife, melting away his worries every time you sigh in delight at the taste of the meal he oh so lovingly set out for you.

Three days after your first anniversary, Simon comes home with a pamphlet. Her Royal Majesty's Armed Service. You laugh, tell him there’s no way he wants to enlist. He almost believes you, sounding so sure in your words. Maybe he is being ridiculous, but then he turns on the news and sees the chaos of the world and realizes that chopping meat wasn’t all he was meant for.

He sits you down again. This time you don’t laugh.

“You will not make me a widow, you understand?”

“Of course not.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, love.”

He enlists, joins the infantry, and you wonder if you made a mistake marrying that man. Then 30 weeks later, he comes back and you almost forget the heartache until he’s standing right in front of you, this time without a pound of meat and the smell of blood clinging to his skin.

He fucks you. You fuck him. It’s only natural after so long. He’s missed you. You’ve missed him. And you have plenty of frustration to get out.

It’s when you’re laying in bed, fingers trailing his abs– yes, abs, born out of the weeks of grueling work– that it strikes you how much this means for you. You squeeze what used to be the loving layer of pudge that circled his waist.

“You like it?” he asks, his smirk pressing against your head.

But the energy to lie doesn’t exist in you. You tell him no, that you miss the Simon that walked out of your door thirty weeks ago, that– sure –abs are nice but you liked the Simon with a little fat, that you didn’t want him to do this, that you didn’t want to have to waste away, alone and worrying about him.

Yelling ensues. You cry. Simon cries. You sleep in the guest room. Simon sleeps on the couch.

He’s a good soldier, you learn. Not from him of course, Simon’s too humble to brag about his achievements like that (plus, he’s afraid that his growing accolades would just remind you how you never wanted to marry a decorated soldier, you wanted to marry him). You always come to base to pick him up from deployments. Soldiers give you respectful nods and tell you how good of a sergeant your husband is.

You and Simon had a distinct separation between work and life. As soon as your car is through the base gates, not a word is spoken of his deployments. It always gets you in too much of a fit. So it was agreed upon: you didn’t have to hear about it.

Until one day, work shows up to your front door step. Simon’s on a deployment, and you’re finally unwinding after a long day of your own. As you begin to pour a glass of wine, there’s a clinical knock on the door.

Two men in uniform are on your porch. They hold their hats in their hands, as with solemn voices they try to explain it all to you. It’s strange– you don’t cry. They ask if you need anything and you simply say no. After all, what could they give you– Simon? You have a chuckle at that after you finally send the soldiers off.

You continue your normal routine: finish that second glass of wine, tidy up the house, and cook dinner. You burn your thumb on the cast iron pot. With your finger in your mouth to soothe the burn, you think to dial your grandmother’s number. If anybody needs to know about Simon, it’s her. Except, when you dial her number all you get is a robotic voice explaining that the number you are trying to reach is not available.

Oh, you realize, that’s right– nan’s dead!

You lose it on the kitchen floor. Your sobs are so loud, the neighbors come to check on you. They find you right there on the kitchen floor, dinner burning on the stove, and paperwork from the army on the counter.

People treat you like a widow after that. You don’t consider yourself one. It just doesn’t feel right. He left without a goodbye, and now you’re supposed to accept that he’s gone?

You’re a celebrity around town– poor Simon’s widow. You quit your job, the widow’s pension being enough to get you by for now. Simon’s old boss starts giving you cuts for free– not even the shitty ones. You get filet mignons from him, aged wines from neighbors, extra pastries from the bakery, and pitying stares from strangers.

In three years you went from a complete stranger to Simon Riley’s widow. Three years and that man tore your life apart. The six month mark is approaching. It’s funny, really. That’s twice the time it took for you two to get hitched.

There isn’t even a body to bury, only a plain gravestone with his name and dates. You don’t visit it. There’s no point. What’s there to mourn? Instead you dig a hole in your back garden. It isn’t very deep, and the garden’s long dead. You don’t dare touch the shovel, it had been Simon’s– used when you needed a hole dug for flowers or bushes. Instead the hole is dug with your bare hands, like a dog searching for something.

In the pathetic pit in that dead garden, you put your ring– the one Simon gave you, that his nan gave him –wrapped in his apron.

The backyard burial doesn’t make you feel better. It just puts dirt under your nails that won’t wash away no matter how hard you scrub at it.

You consider selling the house. That leads to another breakdown. You were supposed to raise your kids there– Simon’s kids. Nan wanted you and Simon to have that house. Now nan’s gone. Simon’s gone. But for some reason you’re left to wander the ruins.

Six months finally comes. People stopped giving you free shit by month three. It’s not like you ever wanted their gifts. It’d come to you with a smile and some bullshit about how we get it or we’re here for you. You laugh at the notion when you wake up on the six month anniversary of your fucking husband’s death alone and…

It’s not the anniversary. Not the real one, at least. It’s only been six months since those men showed up at your door, like the grim reaper dressed up for Queen Elizabeth. He had to have died some time before then.

You don’t even know when your husband died.

It has to be on the paperwork they gave you. Six months after however many days since your husband’s death, you tear apart your house. Every drawer is pulled out, every cabinet yanked open in the hopes that you can find the paperwork that has Simon RIley’s death date.

Not on the pension form.

Not on the letter from the crown.

Not on the invitation to the fucking widow’s club.

When the hell did he die?

You fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, surrounded by every piece of paperwork you could locate. It’s still dark when you wake up, mind clouded with exhaustion. You almost fall back asleep right there on the floor, but when you let your head fall back down on the hardwood, you feel rhythmic vibrations travel through the wood to your cheek. Footsteps.

“Love?”

Only one man has ever called you that.

It’s like you lose the ability to speak. Any thought you could have dies on your tongue as two familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into a lap. He holds you on the floor, lets you cry it out until the sun comes up.

The first words to come out of your mouth: “You said you wouldn’t make me a widow.”

He holds you tighter, “And I didn’t.”

Simon doesn’t tell you what happened. All you know is that he had been taken, tortured, and somehow rescued.

He looks different. He’s gots lots of scars now. They bother him, he covers up in long shirts and pants more often than not, no matter how much you tell him he doesn’t need to. He says that he doesn’t want to worry you with them.

It’s not the scars that worry you. Simon’s different. Whatever happened to him back there had made him needy. He doesn’t let you out of his sight. At night, you’re adhered to his side by an impossibly strong grip. He whispers in his sleep, don’t leave me, as though you could possibly escape his iron grip. Maybe needy isn’t the right word. Obsessive, more like.

He digs the ring up just like you did– all bare hands and fury. You don’t know how he found it– you never told him. You just wake up one morning to him pawing furiously at the ground. He pulls it out and presents it to you like a cat with a dead mouse. He puts the ring on your finger before even rinsing the dirt off.

In bed he consumes you. Where once sex was fun and playful, it now is a ritual, like Simon is claiming you. It’s enjoyable, yes, but overwhelming. You don’t think he blinks anymore. It’s like he’s worried you’re going to be ripped away from him, like every time is the last time.

Two months after he comes home, papers arrive for him in the mail. He’s being deployed again. You’re worried. It’s too soon. You can’t lose him again, and you tell him as much.

Simon placates your worries with a kiss on the head. As he pulls you into a hug, he utters, “Love, I crawled out of the grave for you once. You best bet I’ll do it again.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s lying.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 month ago

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By: Kayla Katin

Published: Dec 31, 2024

Jordan Neely was murdered…by NYC Democrats’ failures

Apparently, I’ve got to be the lone voice of sanity. The veteran Marine, Daniel Penny, was found not guilty of criminally negligent homicide in the death of Jordan Neely, the homeless black man that he put in a chokehold on the subway in New York last year.

I see that people are well vexed about that, so I need to come and spit some facts.

[ BLM of Greater New York co-founder Chivona Newsome was not happy about the Daniel Penny verdict. ]

The jury did the right thing. The ruling is correct. Penny is not guilty. The only problem is that he wasn’t cleared of the charges sooner. The injustice is that this trial was even a thing in the first place.

Here are the facts. Jordan Neely was being belligerent, and threatening, and launching at people, and throwing things on the fucking subway. He said that he was ready to die, wanted to go back to jail, and was going to fucking kill people. The people were scared on that train. The passengers were scared. The mothers were trying to cover their children. That is when Daniel Penny intervened and put Neely in a chokehold to restrain him.

And guess what? I really don’t see this being reported, but there were two other guys helping Daniel Penny to restrain Jordan Neely, and neither of them looks white. Plus, Penny’s fellow passengers, including a black man and black woman, have said that Neely was terrifying and that Penny did the right thing. Yet, for some reason, the media seized on a race narrative.

[ Daniel Penny restrains Jordan Neely with the help of two other men. Video of the incident can be seen here. ]

Maybe I’m mistaken but I’ve seen the video and it doesn’t look like that chokehold was strong enough to cause asphyxiation. The forensic evidence found that Jordan Neely was still alive when that NYPD finally pulled up. Cops refused to resuscitate him because he was dirty and the police understandably didn’t want to risk catching hepatitis or something. So, Jordan Neely died.

We found out that he had a fuck-ton of drugs in his system and he had underlying health issues. All of that predisposed him. But the chokehold and the stress from the struggle probably just pushed him over the edge.

Maybe he would still be alive if it weren’t for that chokehold, but it’s really unfair to try and pin his death on Daniel Penny. The intent clearly wasn’t to kill. And Jordan Neely had to be restrained in order to stop him from attacking the passengers and following up on his threats.

The media, like some fucking vultures hovering over a corpse, couldn’t wait to make this into a race issue based on literally nothing except for the skin colors of these two guys. Guess what? Around the exact same time, a black man, Jordan Williams, did basically the exact same thing as Daniel Penny, except he actually ended up stabbing the homeless guy to death, because the homeless guy was harassing the passengers on the subway and harassed his girlfriend. Jordan Williams walked free after a month, but this Daniel Penny trial took a whole year.

That’s smelling really fishy.

As a black woman in the New York area, who had a run-in with my own “Jordan Neely” last year, I am really, really, really fucking frustrated at all of this hashtagging for this nigga.

Last year on the very first day of school, I was in downtown Newark waiting for my bus home, and some lady started mumbling shit at me. At first, I was trying to reason with her, asking what was up. But then I realized, she’s too far gone, she’s clearly on some shit. So I backed away, putting some distance between me and this lady.

But she kept being belligerent toward me. I was basically just ignoring it until she pulled a fucking baseball bat out from her backpack and threatened me with it. I’m dead ass. And there were multiple fucking people standing around, also waiting at this bus stop with me, and nobody gave an F. Nobody came and did jack shit.

This went on for minutes and minutes. Eventually, one middle-aged lady did come to stand by me to protect me. She said that she has daughters my age so she felt sympathy for me. And then, finally, the bus came. I thought that would put a stop to this, but the fucking crackhead got on the damn bus with me. I thought maybe she would get out but no, no, no, she stayed on all the way to my town and got off at my same stop. Thankfully, my mom was waiting for me in the car, so I ran into that car and I told my mom what happened.

I am so, so, so, so fucking tired and frustrated by these race-baiting politicians and naive liberals, who act like some hugs and free cookies can solve all these altercations. The mentally-ill, drug-addicted, and homeless of the world can be dangerous and violent. And it's not, right or fair for the rest of us to be put in danger because of their problems.

The bitter, bitter, bitter irony of everyone calling Daniel Penny a white supremacist is that the people who are most put in danger by the Jordan Neelys of the world are other working-class black people who have no fucking choice but to use this shitty-ass public transportation.

As a black New Yorker, I will stand on this. Daniel Penny did nothing wrong. He’s a hero. He deserves a key to the city. Y’all are so desperate to follow a narrative and create another George Floyd that you’re just overlooking facts and justice and common sense.

The New York Democrats were so, so, so desperate to let Daniel Penny take the fall for their failures. They wanted this trial to be a distraction, a smoke screen from their failures to address drug addiction, homelessness, mental illness, and transit safety.

Those are all very real problems, and instead of being mad at Daniel Penny, we should be mad at the politicians. We need to get mad at the politicians, but they want to divert the people’s anger to cover their own asses. Pretending like that was an act of systemic racism is a really easy way to take our eyes off of the other systemic problems that they’re presiding over. Every single fucking politician and law enforcement official that participated in this sham trial of Daniel Penny should be required to pay him reparations out of their own damn pockets.

Oh, and I forgot to add: Jordan Neely’s family is disgusting and fake as fuck for coming out the woodwork to cry crocodile tears over his death, when they did nothing for him in his life. They didn’t give a fuck.

Some closing thoughts from my X account:

youtube

BLM are con artists and opportunistic grifters. They don't give a shit about black people. They don't give a shit about the people Neely - on a bond after his 44th arrest - was threatening, they don't give a shit about the people who were glad Penny stepped in.

BLM always martyr the worst people in the world, seemingly because they can't find any legitimate incidents that service their narrative. Everything they have to say should be treated as a lie by default, until proven otherwise.

#Kayla Katin #Daniel Penny #Jordan Neely #BLM #BLM con artists #Black Lives Matter #BLM fraud #transit safety #homelessness #drug addiction #justice #mental health #mental health issues #religion is a mental illness #Youtube

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dipperscavern · 5 months ago

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“denial. realization. obsession.” prompt with cregan… Urggghhhhggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh im howling at the moon. like imagine being a southern highborn lady who was betrothed to cregan (against the wills of both of you so be fair). he feels inconvenienced by this match so he chooses to be cold… he hates your southern attitude, he hates how he feels as if he had no choice in this match, he just hates how different you feel because my man #CANTHANDLECHANGE!!!!

but everyone knows hes downbad… they can see it in the way he looms over you when another man reaches to shake your hand, the way his hands snake around your waist as he assists you onto your horse (and onto his horse when your legs get tired), the way he stares at you from afar. the atmosphere around you two is literally oozing with sexual tension so thick its tangible

sorry if i accidentally answered my own ask but i feel like we have much to discuss. (its been too long)

#CasualDominance👅👅👅 #PossessiveCregan💦💦💦 #MoodyYoungAdultCregan🍆🍆🍆 #LittleBitchCregan😍😍😍 #SizeKink😈😈😈

- pondering anon

PONDERERRRRR I LOVE U. so happy to see u in my inbox once more :3

now… this MAY have to wait until after the celebration… ONLY BEVAUSE I HAVE TOO MANY THOUGHTS ON IT. I WANNA MAKE IT LIKE A PROPER FIC/BLURB AND THIS PROMPT IS TOO DELICIOUS TO RUSH. WOULD RHAY BE OKAY EITH YOU MY PONDERING SAVIOR? lmk if you’re just in the mood for a cregan blurb and i will most certainly cast u a spell tee hee

your brain. i need it i love it it’s wonderful UGHHHDHDH U COME IP WITH THE HREATEST STUFF. ALSO THE HASHTAGS HELP U GET ME

#dippys asks #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #pondering anon #the ponderer #💭 anon #we could most certainly expand on these thoughts if u so wish…..

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internetskiff · 8 months ago

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been thinking about it and it's impressive how valve managed to make Portal in a way that somehow flew under the conservative "wokeness" radar. U play as a mixed race woman running away from a computer lady that is desperately into her and she isn't even subtle about it with how often she whines about her being a "heartbreaker". The devs openly spoke about their dynamic like it's a marital quarrel. By all means the game should've been labeled "HASHTAG WOKE TRASH" but somehow it didn't and I genuinely have no idea how. A friend of mine theorizes that it's because the lesbian undertones can only be picked up by people who are capable of reading between the lines which is difficult for people whining about wokeness in gaming and i agree. My personal theory is that these people were less vocal back then because I'm certain if the portal games came out in the 2020s you would have a massive amount of people screaming about it being too woke and inclusive. Maybe it's because the term "woke" wasn't a thing yet (at least not in the way THEY use it) so they didn't have the words to vocally complain?? Is this like . The videogame equivalent of passing as a white cishet man ??? Very peculiar phenomenon. Just another way in which the portal franchise is absolute lightning in a bottle i suppose! :)

#portal #portal 2 #rambling #GLaDOS #Chell #sorry this might be utter nonsense i'm bored as fuck on a train so i'm yapping to pass the time

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inthedreamatorium1 · 7 months ago

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Trying to decide what episode is my favorite is my Sophie's choice.

Episode 1 you have these two sweet and kind individuals who undergo a transformation and think they're now hot shit when in reality, they're still massive losers. Hashtag they tried.

Episode 2 we have so much flirting! On the promenade! At the market! At Bridgerton House! At the Full Moon Ball! The ton really are blind because how does no one see it. And then the kiss. THE KISS. *swoon*

Episode 3 we have yearning. All of the yearning. Colin not knowing what to do with himself because he can't stop yearning. He yearns when he's awake. He yearns when he's asleep. And when he's not yearning, he's saving Penelope from the world's slowest ballon and looks so sexy doing it. Everything that happens at the Innovations Ball is incredible. Colin fully leaning into what he's feeling, not denying that he loves Pen, trying (and failing) to be subtle about it with his mom, marching up to Pen to tell her how he feels but losing all train of thought because he looked at Pen's lips. And then the ending when he's watching Pen and LD dance? It's heartbreaking because we've all been there.

Episode 4 we have chaotic and brave Colin. A Colin who recalls a small moment where he thinks Pen might might have feelings for him too and makes the brave decision to try. Who has no idea that Pen feels the same way. Who knows he's risking their friendship but still needs to try. Who literally walks up to Pen and LD when they're dancing, interrupts them, and pleads with Pen not to marry him. Who literally runs after Pen's carriage, despite not knowing if she rejected LD's proposal or not. Who gets on his knees in front of her and confesses that he would literally die without her. Who just balls to the wall goes for it and kisses her and gives her her first sexual experience all while being respectful and checking boundaries and not at all thinking about his own pleasure because giving her pleasure is enough. Who adjusts her dress and hair when they arrive home and jumps out of the carriage already thinking they're going to be married. For God's sake, Penelope Featherington. Are you going to marry me or now? CHAOTIC COLIN FTW

Episode 5 has Colin standing up to Portia. It has Colin telling Pen he loves her. It has Colin expressing his desire for Pen and making her feel beautiful and powerful and confident. It has one of the most realistic love scenes EVER. It has the intensity of their engagement party with Pen's secret hanging over it. The first time I watched this episode, I was GAGGED.

Episode 6 has in love Polin. The engagement ring! The flirting across the church! Pen telling Colin that she's always loved him! Them dancing in the church! Pen allowing herself to enjoy the engagement and being swept up into the planning. Their dance at the Mondrich ball. AND COLIN FINDING OUT PEN IS LADY WHISTLEDOWN.

Episode 7 basically shows us in every way possible how much Colin is in love with Penelope. Despite being hurt and confused and angry, he loves her with everything he is. There is no Colin without Penelope. He worships her completely and that's what makes his distance so heartbreaking. Because he WANTS her so badly. But he refuses himself because he doesn't want to bring that anger and confusion and hurt into their marital bed. He won't give himself to her because it's not fair to either of them. Again, Colin is brave and honestly the best man ever. You never once not feel how much he loves her throughout this entire episode. Also the wedding dance? *dies*

Episode 8 is beautiful in that it allows Colin and Pen to come together as equals. Colin respecting Pen to let her take care of this herself. Pen giving space and agency to Colin's feelings, never once begging or promising him anything. They show up side-by-side, supporting one another completely, with no stipulations. They demonstrate how hard marriage is but when you love each other, you make the effort to make it work. And oh, did they. Colin's love speech to Pen left me in tears because who wouldn't want to be told how brilliant and brave they are? And who wouldn't want to be told that the light and energy you bring to the world is inspiring? If my only purpose in life is to love a woman as great as you, then I'll be a very fulfilled man indeed. Colin Bridgerton, you really have set the bar high for all men.

So yeah. I can't pick what my favorite episode is. Colin and Penelope's story is breathtakingly beautiful and every episode is so perfect.

#i'm rewatching season 3 and am back in my feels #i honestly cannot get enough of them #no part of me wants to move on yet #so i'll continue to live here for the time being #and just bask in the beauty that is my colin and penelope #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin x penelope

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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Can u like the post or hashtag for the casino group??? Ik that clover the bunny rabbit dude is there but my memory is a lil foggy

Yeye. Links to the main tags and the existing individual ones + some brief descriptions on everyone we have so far-

Clover [he/him] - Pathetic meow meow Rabbit demon man. Was a devoted Christian before his demise. Timid, somewhat cowardly. A magician who messes up a good percentage of his acts - also a hopeless romantic search for the other half to his heart and act. The dagger that took his live is still embedded in his chest - the wound bleeds profusely when removed

Hearts [they/them] - Acrobat Clown. The new head of security after Spade stepped down. Unlike their coworker who abandoned the role due to their violence when taking care of unwanted guests, Hearts is a trigger happy mess looking for any reason to strangle someone with their ribbons. Limbs are doll pairs - the ribbons they use for their performances are woven throughout their entire body flesh and not. Does not like to talk about what happened to their limbs.

Diamond [they/them] - Disgruntled bartender. Wears a gas mask they refuse to take off due to the effects their eyes have on mortals and lesser demons. Their saliva is a powerful toxic that in micro doses can give folks a nice buzz/act as an aphrodisiac. Grumpy asshole. Hates their job, hates the casino. Really wants to kiss someone, but at the same time they don't due to the whole poison thing.

Spade [any pronouns] - Head of maid staff. Invisible without their face makeup and clothing. Stoic, a person of few words. Secretly has a love for cute things which is once reason why they were glad to hand over their role as head of security to Hearts as it meant they could wear the maid outfits. On friendly/sibling terms with the Aces

The Aces [they/them] - A group of four assistances assigned to the other four. Pretty much hive-mind with some minor individuality between them. Still, they are connected mentally and almost never act alone.

Queen [he/him] - A signer at the casino. Siren Demon. Has a on land form, but rarely leaves his tank as the lack of water dries out his skin. Flirty, uses his voice to lure wandering mortals to his tank. Whether he eats/drowns them or befriends them depends on the humans actions.

King [She/her] - Big ass dragon lady. Another entertainer at the casino - the undefeated champ at the knight tournaments held. Loud, thickskulled. So many scars it looks like she got tossed in a blender.

Mr. Devil: Owner of the casino. Dealer. Only knows how to play blackjack. Seriously, what are they doing here? Tries to make the casino a safe space for humans, demons and everything else in between and not - but is nowhere to be seen when things go wrong.

#Devil casino #The Aces #♥️ my oc #♣️ my oc #♦️my oc #♠️ my oc #Queen my oc #King my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere x you #female yandere

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astoldbychae · 1 month ago

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G-Shade vs No G-Shade 😩

Oh. Em. Gee. YA'LL! It could be pitch black and Penny would STILL turn necks and break hearts, babyyyyyyy!

Everytime I look at her this is all I hear:

FUN FACT: Victoria Monet is Penny's Voice claim. I don't think I've ever shared that but when I revamped her a few years ago I had my glass of [insert adult beverage here] & Jaguar (the EP) on repeat and her vibe just gave me miss ma'am. Victoria is so sweet yet sexy, and sultry...mesmerizing...TALENTED! (and all that is Penny's vibe). So it was only right!

And I think our girl TJ agrees:

😩 Now before ya'll get on my ass, YES TJ is still happily, madly in love with Deijah BUT apparently she does pop up unannounced to the clurb (not dressed for the occasion) from time to time and appreciates beauty when she sees it! 🤣 She was chatting with her at the bar (until some lady was all up in their business)...so my assumption is they know each other since they're both celebrities or whatev's. hashtag story crossover moment! 🙃Maybe TJ got a friend or teammate for our girl...anywho...

Not sure what busted townie lady did...but Pens was PISSED! 😩

I thought homegirl was hangry and chips would help...

but nope! 🙄

THEN JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA HAVE AN ENJOYABLE GAMEPLAY SESH...

thiiiiisssss heffa flew in like a bat outta hell (LITERALLY) and was staring Melo DOWN. I SHOULD'VE KNOWN TJ WAS HERE WITH HER FAVE PERSON! Her and Mel are inseparable! Back in Mel's party days they used to be trouble! Would have the girlies lined up!

Yup! Caught ya'll asses in 4K! [nothing happened but still...] LMAO

But it's the disrespect for me:

I stopped lurking on Penny for a moment to use control this sim for Marguerite because I wanted to see what she was about to do since she was staring at Mel like that but the AUDACITY of this heffa, it's Mel's speech bubble like "Hey Marguerite" and her's calling him trash! SHE IS OVER HERE GIVING HIM THE LOOK...BUT TRYNA COVER IT UP BY CALLIN THIS MAN TRASH! GIRL! If you don't get...😩 See, this is why she can never have nice things! She self sabotages like a MF! I can't make this up! As soon as I saw their speech bubbles I flung my laptop off my bed from laughing so hard. They are truly writing their own story at this point! I'm just here.

#astoldbychae random gameplay #BTS of the Chae's World Save #my game is determined to not let me have nice things #but my sims literally keep me on the floor #the dumpster fire that is my save #the things that happen when autonomy is on full #Spotify

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the-most-humble-blog · 16 days ago

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Fox in the Hen House: Why Male Feminists Are a Myth, but Creeps and Simps Are Everywhere

Ladies, Let’s Get Real: He’s Not Your Ally, He’s Just Waiting for an Opening

Let’s get this out of the way: a straight man calling himself a feminist is as mythical as a unicorn that pays rent on time. It’s a performance, a ploy, and often a poorly disguised ticket to your attention. The louder the performance, the more suspect it is. Ladies, if you’ve ever swooned over a man who proclaims his feminist badge with pride while throwing other men under the bus, buckle up—this truth bomb is about to detonate.

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1. Male Feminists: The Red Flag Factory

Men who claim to be feminists aren’t aligning with your empowerment; they’re auditioning for your approval.

The “Raised in a House Full of Women” Trope: Oh, he’s seen it all because he has sisters? Big deal. Growing up around women doesn’t make you an ally; it makes you observant. News flash: even serial killers have mothers.

The “I’ve Seen So Much Misogyny” Line: If his response to witnessing misogyny is to announce it like a knighted hero rather than confronting it in the moment, that’s a 🚩.

The Perfect Husband Myth: “I’ve been happily married for X years.” Translation: “Please ignore my ulterior motives while I use my wife as a moral shield.”

Thought: The louder he yells “toxic masculinity,” the more skeletons are rattling in his closet—and they’re probably holding a copy of his exes restraining order against him.

2. Hardwired for Brotherhood, Not Betrayal

Let’s get anthropological for a second. Men aren’t designed to fight each other for the sake of performative allyship. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution wired them to protect their tribes, hunt mammoths, and keep the community safe. The guy who starts screaming, “Guys, this toxic mammoth-hunting culture has to stop!” would’ve been banished—or worse.

Back Then: Men who divided the tribe were threats to survival.

Now: Modern male feminists dividing men to gain favor with women? The same energy, minus the spears.

Truth: Men don’t turn on their own without an ulterior motive. Period.

3. The Performance of Passion = Danger

Ever notice how the most theatrical male feminists are also the creepiest?

The Foam-at-the-Mouth Activists: He’s not angry for your rights—he’s angry because he’s trying to prove he’s “different.” The reality? He’s not.

Performative Outrage: Yelling at other men or shaming them doesn’t make him noble; it makes him manipulative. He’s leveraging your emotions to look good.

Real Talk: Men who genuinely respect women don’t need to shout about it. They just act like decent human beings.

4. The Evolution of Simping

Modern society has rebranded the simp as a “male feminist,” but the game hasn’t changed—it’s just wearing new clothes.

Simp Behavior: Doing everything for validation, hoping it pays off romantically or sexually.

Feminist Facade: Cloaking the same intentions in activism and hashtags.

Relatable to Anyone?: He’s the guy who texts, “You’re so brave to share your story ��,” followed by, “By the way, you looked amazing in that photo 😘.”

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5. Ladies, Stop Humoring This Nonsense

Here’s the truth you don’t want to hear: Even these men have humored a passing thought of entering your “vicious innards.” Yes, even the “perfect husband,” the “activist,” and the “ally.” The more vitriolic his feminist rhetoric, the more dangerous he becomes.

Why It’s Dangerous:

He’s not defending women; he’s positioning himself as a savior.

This kind of behavior undermines genuine conversations about equality by turning it into a dating tactic.

Reality: “I just care so much about women’s rights!” Bro, your browser history says otherwise.

6. Why Men Protect, Not Betray

Good men don’t need to shout “I’m a feminist” from the rooftops. They don’t betray their fellow men for clout. They’re protectors—always have been, always will be. That’s their evolutionary wiring.

Men Who Betray Their Own: These are the foxes in the hen house, dividing men and gaining trust just to exploit it later.

The Modern Tribe: In Western society, these men disrupt unity and weaken the collective strength of men and women.

7. Extrapolating to Modern Society

Let’s bring it back to today. In the U.S., this behavior is rampant. Male feminists use their loud, theatrical “allyship” to mask their true intentions, whether it’s manipulation, access, or validation.

Blunt Truth: If a straight man claims to be a feminist, you should run—not because he supports equality, but because his motives are likely far less pure than he’s letting on.

Important: You don’t want to hear it, but someone had to tell Ya, Dummy...I’ve chosen to do so—more humbly than anyone else ever could. You’re welcome.

Ladies, it’s time to stop humoring the “male feminist” myth. These men aren’t the allies you think they are—they’re just better actors. Good men don’t need to yell from the rooftops or tear other men down to show they care. They act with quiet confidence, respecting women without fanfare.

Love unapologetic truth bombs? Follow The Most Humble Blog for more sharp takes, dark humor, and humble insights you won’t find anywhere else.

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