#i hate factory knots

[newtness532]

I attached the end of my starting tail on my working yarn instead of the skein 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

[katiascraft]

“am I too much for you? maybe I’m too much for everyone” | CL16

parings: Charles Leclerc x insecure!reader

summary: you feel insecure and you’re struggling but Charles makes sure you know how important you are to the world (specially his world).

now playing: “If I weren’t me” by Katherine Li

warnings: not English native speaker could there be errors. None proofread. Talk about sadness and destructive inner talk. Insecure reader. Readers pov’s.

words: +1,5k words.

a/n: heyyyy I am back!!! I disappeared for a year 💀 consistency it’s not my thing I guess. I’m finally finishing university this year!! So I guess I’ll have more time to write. Hope you like it! First on Charles. New obsession: F1 drivers. Get ready I got plenty more on my plans :p. Remember to like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3

MASTERLIST

The piano tiles made the sound of the soundtrack of my sadness in this moment. My fingers touched them softly like they were fragile - like me.

Today was a nightmare from the start. Since I woke up I had a knot in my stomach that became bigger and bigger as the time passed through my routine. Sometimes itʼs really hard for me to do daily tasks such as cleaning or even eating. And it was harder if I need to go to events or meetings.

I have episodes of deep sadness Iʼve been treating on therapy. Sometimes I just canʼt control it. Today was one of those days where black and grey took over everything I felt and did. One way I found by being suggested by my therapist was writing down every thought of pain to find kind of a relief. Today itʼs really hard. Iʼm struggling really hard.

Iʼve been alone the whole day. Charles had to go to the Ferrari factory and do his driver tasks as usual. When I woke up he was gone. And maybe that contributed even more to my desperate and pathetic situation. Though I shouldnʼt talk about it like that and be more gentle with myself. It always felt to me negativity has always been my best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

Playing piano helped me so much. Write a song about my pain. Try to give a little light to all of this mess I find myself emerged in. Itʼs really hard for me to open up and seek help when I need it. Specially when it comes to Charles. I donʼt wanna be a burden to him. And I donʼt wanna stress him out with all of my dark side. I always try to brush it off when heʼs around. Most times I just pretend Iʼm happy and everything itʼs alright. As if I wasnʼt feeling too much for him. Or too less. Like Iʼm not worth of his love. Of his attention. Of his smiles. Of everything he did for me.

The fact that Charles asked me out had me shocked. Iʼve never felt like I could compete with all the models and influencers and singers and every really beautiful girl in this world. Iʼve never felt beautiful nor attractive. Yes Iʼm pretty good making jokes. And I talk too much. But Iʼve always felt I cringed people out. Dating people wasnʼt a thing I was really good at. Actually I sucked. And I think I still do. Always overthinking and second guessing every move. Every promise. Everything.

Charles was so sweet to me. He said “youʼre beautiful. Iʼm sure people tell you all the time. But you really areˮ. I couldnʼt help but get really nervous and blush. The most beautiful man Iʼve ever seen was talking to me and saying all of that. I blinked a couple of times. My smile huge. I just laughed softly trying to brush it off.

Since then we became a team. Inseparable. Charles became my best friend. My rock. I donʼt know what I ever did to deserve his love. The way he loved me was so gentle. So caring and loving. At first was hard because his love language was physical touch and that was something I wasnʼt used to. But little by little I got used to and felt amazing. Iʼve never felt so comfortable with anyone but him.

I hate my body. I feel ashamed of my personality. Most times I feel so dumb. So stupid.

I didnʼt realized I was already crying when I felt my tears dropping in my hands on the piano. I didnʼt realized I kept playing in auto-mode. When I was conscious again I started crying badly. I started shaking. I felt so bad. So guilty for even feeling this way. I didnʼt realized Charles have arrived home when I felt his deep voice from behind.

“Baby... whatʼs wrong? Youʼve been crying for a whileˮ I heard his voice and that sent shivers down my spine. I try to hold it together because I feel so embarrassed heʼs seeing me like this.

He sat next to me and hugged me. I hid my face on his neck feeling contempt. Thing is I started crying worse. I couldnʼt control it once it took on me.

“Itʼs okay baby. Itʼs okay.ˮ He whispered on my head while he stroke my hair and my arm pulling me closer. I thanked him mentally for this. I never thought I needed it so much.

Took a while until I calmed myself in his body. I part from him slowly and whipped my face with my hands. After I did he did the same. He whipped my tears so gently. He did the same looking me with bright eyes. Worry was all over his face. I licked my lips. “Iʼm sorry.ˮ I said quietly almost a whisper.

He denided with his head taking my head into his hands and stroked it softly.

“donʼt be sorry baby. Iʼm worried. Whatʼs wrong? Iʼm sorry I wasnʼt home to be with you. Why didnʼt you called me?ˮ I could feel the worry in his voice deep and cracking.

“I didnʼt want to bother to be honest. Itʼs one of those days. A really hard dayˮ my tears wanted to go out again but I holded them.

I saw his eyes turned into a sad look. He leaned on me and kissed my cheek to hugged me strongly in his arms afterwards. I buried my head in his shoulder. His smell calmed me down. I holded him pretty close to me. Strongly as him. I didnʼt want to let go.

“do you wanna talk about what you are feeling love?ˮ He whispered softly. I swallowed hard and pulled away from his so I could look into his beautiful eyes. I loved his eyes. So bright so blue sometimes. To me they felt like staring at the ocean. I stroked his face gently. He grabbed my legs on the little couch in front of the piano it our living room.

“This is one of those days where I donʼt feel enough or maybe too much to handle... all of this darkness in me that sometimes I just canʼt control it. You deserve someone confident and happy just like youˮ I told him softly and honestly. And it felt good to take it out of me for finally. I wanted to cry again but I was making my best efforts to keep it together.

“Cher... you are more than enough for me. You are the most beautiful soul Iʼve ever met. The most beautiful woman Iʼve ever seen. You are the sweetest most caring and fun person. Always there for people. You have the brightest personality. Every time you enter a room you shine. Everyone smiles. To me youʼre happiness though I know that isnʼt the whole you. Youʼre human baby. You are allowed to feel. And to not be okay. And to be okay too. You are not a burden for me. Youʼre my best friend. Mon amour. My future wife. The one whoʼs always there for me. My shoulder to cry on. The one with the greatest jokes. The life of every party I assist. You give a meaning to my life. A reason to live. You are a great daughter. The best friend someone could ask for. The greatest sister. You are a light for every single person that knows you y/n. Donʼt ever feel that you are too much to handle. And I really wanna go and kill the people who made you ever feel you were, I sware. You are amazing baby.ˮ While he was talking you couldnʼt hold it together. You just started crying. He let you do it while he whipped your tears lovingly. He seeing you like this broke his heart. You didnʼt deserve to feel like this. And he wished he could take away all of your pain. That you could see yourself the way he sees you. And feel how happy and enamoured you made him feel. “You can talk to me every time you need itˮ he continued. “you can trust me and we can figure it out together. You donʼt have to go through it alone. Okay? I love you with everything I am y/n. If I could I would take all of this pain away and just make you feel how I feel about you. I promise to me youʼre even better than Carlosˮ he said lastly jokingly making me laugh through my crying.

Now he had a huge smile on his face knowing he could make you feel better. I gave him a peck on his lips as a thank you and as an I love you.

“I donʼt know what I would do without you Charles...ˮ I said sincerely and full of love in between the lines. He gave another kiss back but now it was deeper in feelings. We kissed for a while and it felt that as the kiss continued my pain was going away feeling better every second. After the kissed I hugged him tightly. He gave kisses to my neck making me giggle a little. “I love you Charlie. Youʼre my angelˮ I whispered on his shoulder and he tightened the hug in response.

“And you are mine chérie“ he said burying his face on my shoulder.

——————————————————————————————

Charlie won COTA 🥹.

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have ideas my inbox is open for requests!

[imreadydollparts]

Q&A stuff here

(If you have any other questions, let me know.)

How dirty of a doll or pony can I send?

Inside and out, these are both fine to come to the salon.

I may decline a pony or doll if they're dirtied with bodily fluids of any kind. I will be more than happy to talk you through the cleaning process so you can take care of that yourself.

However, if you are distraught and can't handle it, we can talk. I absolutely need a warning.

What happens if you damage a pony/doll someone sent?

I fix it.

For example, I got some 40Vol on a customer's Confetti's yellow hair and it bleached out the yellow color. I told the customer what had happened and did a partial rehair with vintage hair of the same color from my MLP G1 tail stash. That way the owner is informed and the pony is still full vintage.

Another example is that I was resetting the pose on a Flutterbye, and her feet turned white where they'd sat in a little boiling hot water (I didn't take a picture). I blasted them with a heat gun for a while and they're good as new.

And another was a Birthday Pony who's ribbons had been tied in knots and were weak. I snapped one when I went to recurl it, informed the owner, and they were amenable to replacement of all of the ribbons.

Repair is often risky. If I do damage that I can't fix, I will pay the going price for one of the same quality on eBay or order it for you and give it the salon process for free.

What hair do you use?

I use high-grade, silky smooth nylon mostly ordered from Shimmer Locks for full rehairs.

For partial rehairs like replacing a few plugs here and there or a forelock that was cut, I use vintage hair as long as I have it available in my stash of tails or can harvest enough from the pony's own tail without making the tail too thin. I do offer full tail replacements if I happen to have a replacement tail.

Can I request a hair style?

Absolutely! I can't guarantee that I'll be able to do the style you're wanting, but I'll certainly try. I can attempt a few different kinds of curls and have both a standard size and mini crimper.

You can also let me know if you want every pony's mane to be on the same side of their head. I'm not very consistent with that otherwise.

Why do you charge so much more for deflocking?

I hate doing it.

What paints do you use?

Right now I'm using Army Painter acrylic paints. I was using Liquitex before and found it difficult to get just the right consistency, whereas Army Painter has been easier for me to manipulate.

Why is your hair styling/photography/etc. so inconsistent?

I am not a professional anything and have a poor memory.

My photography is also inconsistent because I use my phone and every time I take my phone on or off of the cheap ringlight-phone-tripod the tripod moves.

The way I style a certain pony's hair will change between ponies because I don't remember how I styled it before and if I've had to flat iron it, I may not remember that it had been curly.

One of the great things about this being a hobby as opposed to a business is that I don't have to spend a lot of time on the parts that aren't fun (for me photography isn't fun), and don't have to be consistent. I just have to enjoy what I'm doing. If I can help out other people and get a little money so that I can keep doing what I do enjoy, that's a bonus.

Do you always ---

deflock So Soft Ponies?

No. I only do that when asked because I hate doing it. I will also deflock a pony I bought to clean and sell if the flocking is bad enough, but if the flocking is decent I don't ruin it.

straighten doll/pony hair?

No. I will do my best to preserve factory curl if it's present and the hair is in good enough condition it doesn't need flat ironed, but can't guarantee I will succeed...

How aggressively I treat hair depends entirely on the hair itself.

[kiquebi]

I present to you my very first fic ever!!! ~1.7k words brought to you by my Kww obsession…

Sorry in advance if I didn’t do their characters justice please don’t burn me at the stake. 🙏

Shipping ahead, proceed with caution now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wifies knows he’s not in the factory anymore.

He’s very aware of that fact; he’s made aware of that fact every day he wakes up in a soft bed and hears Wato in the kitchen, a warm spot on his left and Ken curled up on his right. He’s grateful for them, they’re the reason he’s still here after all, but he can’t shake the feeling of wrongness every time he gets up and sees his own face.

Today, Wifies awakes to a sunbeam to his face and Ken’s ears tickling his nose. Like usual, Wato’s side of the bed is empty but the leftover heat tells him that they haven’t left for long. He moves to untangle himself from Ken, making sure to be extremely careful about his tail. Wifies had accidentally squished it while getting up once and Ken’s resulting yowl and scratches were something he’d rather not experience again. Ken whines at the loss of warmth, but he quiets down again once Wifies wedges his pillow between Ken’s arms with a fond smile.

He drags himself into the bathroom, taming his hair on the way, and stops in his tracks. In front of him stood the mirror, and Wifies felt himself standing up straighter. He had never seen a mirror until he left the factory, there was no need for them in the escape rooms after all, but despite having easy access to one now, he never fails to stop and stare, and now is no exception.

When he peers into the glass, all he sees is him. No, he sees them. In the mirror, he sees the face of his creator, the original Wifies, the real Wifies, the person who had mocked him to his face and told him his destiny was no more than to become mere parts. It’s the same face of those soulless clones he had seen trapped in a glass cage, aimlessly solving puzzle after puzzle and then ground up into scrap metal. It was through those clones that Wifies first became aware of what his face looked like, and it was moments later that he learned that the face he had was not his.

It makes him sick. There’s a knot in his stomach that gets tighter and tighter the more he looks at himself, the more he drinks himself in. Wifies takes a step towards the mirror.

He slowly brings his hands up to his face and traces his brows, bringing them lower as he trails his fingers around his eyes. They’re dark, not quite the color of the hungry void, but yearning for something nevertheless.

“Like crying obsidian” Wato had once said. “But we’ll make sure the tears won’t have good reason to come, yeah?”. Wifies doesn’t have it in his heart to tell Wato that he’s incapable of tears, though he treasures the sentiment with all he has.

He moves on lower, going down the slope of his nose, tracing back up his jaw, and he has to give credit where credit is due. The original Wifies was attractive, he had to give him that. There’s not a single flaw, no crookedness to his nose, no slanted jawline and Wifies drags his nails down his cheeks. His synthetic skin doesn’t welt and all Wifies feels is a dull ache. He hates it. Wifies knows this face of his would never change no matter how many times he does this but-

It feels wrong. This unblemished, symmetrical face of his feels wrong, wrong, wrong. It easily could have been one of those other Wifies Ken had saved. It easily could have been his creator who had won. Why was it him that lucked out? He’s not anything better than them, he had just been lucky. His survival was based solely on the RNG that Wato had so often complained about escape map designers relying so often on. After all, no matter who made it out of that factory, they’ll all look the very same in the end, would they not?

Wifies jolts. He slowly moves his hands away from his face and back to his sides. ‘No’, he decides, ‘none of that today’. Ken and Wato had spent so much time reassuring him of his newfound freedom and he would not throw away their combined efforts today. However, his eyes still advert themselves from the mirror and Wifies tries to bury the spark of disappointment he feels at that.

As he moves to tie his signature headband around his head though, he notices a pencil on the rack next to him. He recognizes it: it’s an eyeliner pencil, a brand that Ken swore by.

“Makes your liner sharp enough to cut a bitch” was what he said at the time.

Wifies’ eyes quickly dart around the bathroom as if he expects something to jump him, but after a moment, his hand reaches out. He picks up the pencil and with shaking hands, brings it right under his left eye. Wifies steels himself and looks into the mirror again, this time leaning in to leave a splotch of pigment at the corner of his eye, where a tear would appear if he had been capable of shedding one. A stain on the perfect canvas that was his face. He puts the pencil back down, takes a step back, and stares.

One tick. Two ticks.

Wifies doesn’t know how long he stood there staring at his reflection, but that knot in his stomach loosens just a little. In the mirror, he sees neither his creator nor the trapped clones. The person in front of him no longer had the same face he had seen hundreds of in his dreams. He looks like Wifies, Ken’s Wifies.

He hears a breathy laugh and seconds later, he realizes that it’s coming from him. It’s silly really. All he’s done is draw a dot on his face and suddenly the sinking feeling in his stomach is gone. It’s not logical in any way, but it’s still the reason for the stupid smile he sees in his reflection.

“Wifies? Are you alright in there? I’m coming in okay?” Ken’s voice drifts through the door.

He turns around and a moment later, Ken’s head peaks into the bathroom. “What are you up to today? You don’t usually-” his eyes scan Wifies’ face and zero in on the artificial mole he’s given himself.

“Oh”. Ken’s eyes soften in a way that never fails to make Wifies want to follow him anywhere, like the first time he led him off the winner’s podium, walking above the literal void. Ken walks up to him, flips him back around to face the mirror, and wraps his arms around Wifies. He rests his face on his shoulder, and oh, Wifies has never felt quite like this before.

“So, any plans for the day handsome?” Ken asks, tail wrapping around their legs.

“You think I’m handsome?” Wifies blurts.

“…..Wifies my hands are about to go under your shirt right now”. A tick. Wifies’ eyes move down the mirror to see that yes, Ken’s hands had indeed snaked down to the bottom of his shirt. His eyes dart back up and he’s met with his own bewildered face.

Another tick. “Yes, I think you look really good right now Wifies” Ken sighs, an exasperated look on his face. Ken’s hands move back up to Wifies midsection and he pulls Wifies closer. “It suits you” Ken murmurs.

They stay like that for a few moments and then Ken perks up, raising his head from Wifies’ shoulder. He turns his head to the door and Wifies follows suit. A second later, Wato’s figure emerges from behind the corner, and upon seeing them, their tail begins to idly wag behind them.

“I was wondering why no one was coming down for breakfast. Are we doing hugs in the bathroom now?” They ask head tilted to the side, and Wifies starts to make grabby hands at them, coaxing Wato closer.

They oblige, and Ken scoots over to let Wato in on the embrace. Wifies looks in the mirror again and he sees the three of them pressed close together, their limbs barely fitting into the frame. Ken on his right, Wato on his left, and himself in the middle. It’s a beautiful picture they paint, and Wifies decides that he likes seeing them together like this. Wato peers into the glass as well. They smile and there’s a tender mirth in their voice as they say “Heh, Wifies sandwich”.

There’s a fluttering feeling in his chest, but Wifies ignores it so that he can shove Wato’s face out of frame. He can hear Ken snickering at their antics, and Wifies ignores that too. He can feel his ears heating up.

“Wato, look at Wifies and agree with me that he’s handsome”.

Wato indulges him, and their eyes go half-lidded as they lean closer to the mole Wifies drew below his eye. “Hey handsome”, their hand gently intertwines with one of his, and- “did you know they say that moles are where your past lovers kissed you most?”. They press a kiss right on the mark, and Wifies is gone.

Ken barks a laugh, leisurely pressing a kiss onto the back of Wifies' neck. “Should we add one here too then?”, he questions as he continues to trail kisses up to his jaw. Wifies’ head feels muddled, as if Wato and Ken had stuffed his brain full of cotton from their words alone.

His knees feel weak, his eyes are glued to his reflection, and he tries moving his mouth but nothing comes out. The Wifies in the mirror looks like a goldfish. Wifies tears his eyes away and groans into his remaining hand, the one that Wato hadn’t taken hostage. His face feels hot, and he’s probably as red as an apple right about now.

Both Ken and Wato break into giggles and Ken takes Wifies’ hand off his face, entangling it in his. He has nowhere to run now, and both his hands are in the hands of two menaces who want him dead.

Thankfully, Wato seems to be in a merciful mood today. “Alright, alright, let’s get some food for you two, it’s already noon.” Ken decides that food was worth a pause in embarrassing Wifies, and begins to drag him out of the bathroom. They head towards the stairs, and both his hands are still being held. His hands are warm and his heart feels fuzzy, and yeah, Wifies thinks he can get used to this.

[samantitheos]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

Swing yo hair back and forth edition 💇🏻‍♀️

Thank you @deedala and @jrooc for the tags. <3

what is your current hair like? well this is timely...i just got a haircut yesterday for the first time in 3 years (wish i was kidding). i went from ratty damaged mess hanging below my boobs to fresh lesser damaged mess at my shoulders. and bangs, always.

what is your natural hair like? pretty much what it is atm now that most of the dyed bits have been cut off. kinda mousey brown. mostly straight but gets crimped easily. i mourn the blonde i had as a child. 🥲

what’s you favourite hair style/colour you’ve had? i had a platinum blonde faux hawk that then transitioned into a black faux hawk that then transitioned into a red faux hawk and so on and so on. my favourite was probably the black with blonde bangs. (nb: i could never pull this off anymore.)

what hair style/colour do you find most attractive on other people? ok this is going to sound weird given my last answer lol. but i love girls and non-binary folks with short, even partially buzzed hair (think ruby rose or 2008-09 rihanna or like...keira knightley in domino). i also hate myself for admitting this, but i tend to give guys with a man bun a second look. also ian's s4 undercut—don't at me. ✋🏻

what’s your biggest hair regret? never learning how to properly style it or like...use a hairdryer or curler or anything.

what’s the longest your hair has ever been? i usually let it get to the underboob region and then absolutely have to cut it or else go insane. hence yesterday's cut. we were entering the danger cuckoo zone every time i tried to put it up.

what’s the shortest your hair has ever been? the buzzed on the side faux hawk years.

what’s your go to style when you’re due a hair wash? high knot + hairband to keep the grease factory (bangs) out of my eyes.

help i'm daydreaming about ruby rose now.

please play along if you'd like you beautiful people in my phone

@burninface @pookiebearmick @jessij1997 @jessieoneday @atthedugouts

@em-harlsnow @francesrose3 @wehangout @iansw0rld @mybrainismelted

@swiftfootedachilles @whatthebodygraspsnot @whatwouldmickeydo @mmmichyyy @sickness-health-all-that-shit

[druidx]

Someone You Don't Wanna Meet

Or "How Elo Found Out About Farren's Boxing Addiction"

Universe: Titan Fighting Fantasy CW: Eye dialect, swearing Tagging:@aquadestinyswriting @jacqueswriteblrlibrary & @hannah-heartstrings

"Mickey! Fancy seeing you here, me ol' mucker."

A sudden spring shower has swept down the street, leaving the cobbles sparkling in the afternoon sunlight and pedestrians emerging, rabbit-like, from under convenient overhangs. They're lucky, really. Elo and Farren are off-shift, in their civvies, headed to the Scholar for dinner. Farren freezes at the call, tense as if he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Before Elo can say anything, he's spinning around, taking a side step, putting himself between her and the stranger. She frowns at the unnecessary, unusual, behaviour.

"Darryl! Great to see ya buddy." The Farren that sweeps towards the dark stranger with his broken nose and cauliflower ear is not the Farren of 30 seconds ago. To all intents, he's relaxed, jovial, happy to see this man. Elo's instincts are twisting her guts in knots that something is wrong.

The two men are clapping each other on the back in a blokey hug and Farren is using this to manoeuvre Darryl so his back is to Elo, all the while carrying on like they're oldest of friends. Elo and Farren have been Watch partners for a few months now, and Elo thought she'd met all his friends. And even if she hadn't, she doesn't understand why he's trying to hide her from this one.

Clearly, though, she's not wanted here, so Elo wanders back to where they'd been sheltering from the rain. Farren's eyes track her movements. Darting. Anxious. His face is smiling, but his eyes aren't.

She's normally good at reading body language, but the disparity between his open gestures and the tightness about his eyes is throwing her. She thinks it might be panic. Might be fear. She thinks he needs rescuing. But Farren's gone to so much trouble to hide her from this Darryl, whoever he is. Farren's done it deliberately and so must have a damned good reason.

Farren always does things with a damned good reason – it's something she likes about him. He can seem dumb and laissez-faire, but it's all on the surface. Underneath he's all quick thinking, figuring out the next steps so he can move on a penny. She likes that he nearly always has a plan. She doesn't like that he sometimes forgets to share it with her. In this case, it seems like the plan is to keep attention away from her, at the cost of himself. He needs her backup, but he doesn't want her to be seen.

Elo hates riddles. Too impatient, too literal. She's working on it, Farren's a good teacher. But still. Elo thinks that sometimes the best way out of a situation is through. Farren wants this man to go away? Elo picks up a pebble. She's good at being a nuisance when she wants; her biological mother always said so. Farren wants her to stay hidden? She can do that too – it's a good job she was trained by the sneakiest sneak in all of Allansia.

The pebble hits Darryl square on the back of his head. He whirls. "Some little shit just threw a rock at me!" Farren peers over Darryl's shoulder and doesn't let out a sigh of relief. There's no culprit in sight. Only a couple with groceries looking startled at Darryl's outburst and a dray in the distance. "Must have been the horse," Farren says, flicking his chin to indicate the beast. Darryl rubs his head and grumbles. "Anyway. It was good t'see you, mate, but I've gotta be getting on. Gotta get dinner 'fore goin' back to the factory. You know how it is." "Yeah." Darryl turns back. "Yeah, sure. Say, will you be in the ring on Seaday?" Farren rubs the back of his neck. "I dunno, mate. Depends what shifts are on at the factory." "Listen, Mick." Darryl puts a hand on Farren's arm. "I'm willing to pony up on you taking down Burton. The payout'd be more'n you'd make in three shifts at the stinkin' factory." Farren scoffs. "You're having a laugh, aintcha?" "He's naught but a wet-behind-the-ears pup," Darryl insists. "Yeah, he's got youth on his side, but you've got experience. You could have him." "Yeah. Maybe." Farren thumbs at his nose and sniffs. "We'll see." "Eh?" Darryl grins, slapping Farren on the arm. "See you on Seaday for that match then, me lad." The bruiser wanders off. Farren continues his walk towards the Skiving Scholar.

A shadow detaches itself from the wall once Darryl's out of sight down the way. "What," says the shadow, "the fuck?" Farren goes for his baccy pouch. "Once upon a time," he says, starting a rolly, "there was a young Watch officer whose superiors thought had fists of gold…"

[princesssarisa]

Autism headcanon: Fantine (Les Misérables)

This is just one of many autism headcanons that are possible in Les Misérables. I could view quite a few of those characters as being on the autism spectrum. But this is one that I've never seen other people suggest before, but which rings true to me.

This is based only on Fantine's portrayal in the novel, by the way, not the musical. It would be almost impossible for an actress in the musical to convey all these things.

*By nature, Fantine is quiet, thoughtful, and a dreamer. In her first chapters in Paris, this sets her apart from the other, outgoing and playful grisettes. Even when she's at her happiest, she's more serious and earnest than they are, and Favourite tells her "You always look strange" or "You're always out of sorts," depending on the translation.

*Still, when she talks about something she passionately cares about, particularly the subject of her daughter Cosette, her quietness disappears and she can prattle on and on.

*She's more shy and modest than the other young women of her social class, and doesn't feel comfortable joining them in their bold, flirty games. In Paris, she never lets men other than Tholomyés kiss her, and she refuses to show off her legs by swinging on a swing. In 19th century France, grisettes were more-or-less expected to be coquettish and sexually free – this was how they found men to provide for them – so Fantine is clearly a "different" one.

*She never fits in with the groups of other women she temporarily belongs to. This is arguably one of the main reasons for her tragedy. In Paris, the other three grisettes (especially Favourite) think she's strange, and accuse her of "putting on airs" because she's less flirtatious than they are. They're only "friends" to her because their respective lovers are friends, and after the men leave she loses touch with them. Then, in Montreuil-sur-Mer, she makes no friends among the other factory workers, and depending on the translation, the other women think she either "has ways about her," or, yet again, "puts on airs." Of course this can be explained by the secret she's hiding, but it also mirrors her earlier relationship with Favourite, Dahlia, and Zéphine. The only friendship she ever builds by herself is with her neighbor Marguerite, an elderly woman who serves as her mentor; she never has real friends her own age. It seems that whenever she tries to belong to a group, they label her odd, mistake her reserve for pride, and either casually drift away from her or outright shun her as soon as they have an excuse to do so.

*She can be all too trusting. If she has a tragic flaw, this is it. First she gives both her heart and her virginity to a man who cares neither about her nor about their daughter. Then, even more fatally, she leaves Cosette in the hands of a couple she's only just met, just because their own daughters are happy and well cared for. Taking things too much at face value and trusting too much is a very common pitfall on the autism spectrum.

*In some ways she displays black-and-white thinking. When she's fired from the factory, at first she internalizes society's view of her as a sinner, accepts her firing as justice, and neither protests nor holds it against Monsieur Madeleine. But over the next two years, as she falls deeper and deeper into poverty, she gradually comes to hate Madeleine with all her heart and view him as a monster. So much so that when he saves her from prison, she can't comprehend it: she has to lie to herself that she misheard and that it was Javert who ordered her release just so the world will make sense again. Many of us on the spectrum can relate to that experience of tying our brains into knots to make sense of some jarring new information. Of course, Fantine is far from the only character in this novel with a black-and-white worldview that gets derailed: at least she's not the one who's driven to suicide by it.

*She often tends to be childlike, even after her all her trauma and loss of innocence. Her very name means "childlike" and it fits. For example, after she gets overexcited thinking Monsieur Madeleine has gone to fetch Cosette, and the nuns urge her to lie back down and not talk anymore, she apologizes for having been "naughty" and says that now she'll be "good." And of course there's her tendency to be naïve and too trusting, mentioned above.

*She's very emotionally sensitive, and she seems to have trouble controlling her emotions. In Paris, she comes close to tears at the sight of a horse dying from overwork, which her friends find amusing because to them it's just a fact of life. After giving Cosette to the Thénardiers, she openly cries "as if her heart would break" as she walks out of town (rather than being "seemly" and waiting until she reaches a private place), and when she works at the factory, she sometimes sheds a tear as she thinks of Cosette or Tholomyés, despite being surrounded by other workers. This is one of the "suspicious" details about her that the gossiping women notice. As much as people on the autism spectrum are stereotyped as unemotional, many of us are more sensitive and struggle more with emotional regulation than most people.

*Her attack on Bamatabois when he stuffs the snow down her back is easy to read as a meltdown. Of course anyone who had snow unexpectedly stuffed down their back would scream and probably fight back in self-defense, but Fantine's frightening rage – letting out a "roar," then leaping at Bamatabois "like a panther," beating him, kicking him, clawing at his face with her nails, howling and swearing all the while – goes far beyond self-defense. Now this might be explained as all the helpless rage that's built up inside her for several years finally reaching a breaking point. She might also be drunk – her voice is described as "roughened by brandy," though I don't know if by that Hugo meant that she's drunk in this scene, or just that her voice is roughened by how much she's been drinking in general. Still, to those of us who have had meltdowns, it looks familiar.

*She can be sadly irresponsible with money. When she first gets her job at the factory, she buys furniture on credit, thinking she'll soon earn enough to pay for it. As a result, after she's fired, she can't leave town and find work elsewhere because of her debt. For those of us on the spectrum, it can be hard to understand exactly how money and credit work, let alone mange them by ourselves.

*At the same time, she's memorized the routes between Montreuil-ser-Mer and Montfermeil where Cosette is, and she calculates the distance out loud to herself while she's delirious with fever. While any mother might presumably do this, people on the autism spectrum do tend to have a knack for calculating and memorizing things.

Now, of course, there's no possible way Victor Hugo, writing in the 19th century, could have meant for Fantine to be autistic. Most of the above can be explained by the fact that she's young, an orphan, and uneducated, that she's chronically ill throughout most of her storyline, and that her mental health is damaged by all her trauma. There's also the Doylist argument that Hugo was bad at writing women, which could also explain why she seems "off" at times.

But the realization that Fantine's misery and death are caused not only by society shunning her for her sexual "sin," but by her own tendency to be too trusting, and even more so by her failure to fit in or to play by all of society's many and sometimes contradictory rules, strikes a chord for me. It's terrible to imagine how many autistic women without support have probably suffered in the same ways Fantine does. Hopefully, the more people understand the spectrum, the more support systems there will be.

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 11 / previous installments/tags

Two days later, the coaches call them all down for a meeting, or at least all of them who haven’t already had a positive test. They announce that the tournament is canceled. Omicron wins. 

The room rumbles with disappointment and frustration. Next to Mason, Connor’s silent. His expression above his mask is typically impassive. This must be easier on him. He’s got so many more world Js ahead of him. Mason tries to count how many more years Connor will be eligible, but he stops when it starts to get depressing.

This might be Mason’s last shot, but he can’t even be mad about COVID fucking his life up yet again. Distantly, he hates the loss of any opportunity to compete, to win. But he’s holding his entire body tense at Connor’s scent seeping through the edges of his mask — he’s been doing the same thing for weeks now — and he’s wrung-out and exhausted and grateful just to leave, to get away from the terrible flood of want that Connor’s scent threatens to unleash.

He thinks it’ll get easier once he leaves Connor behind. But his flight to Ottawa is excruciating. He’s restless and sweating, tugging at his mask to try to get away from its bleached factory scent. When they land, the only thing that stops him from shouldering his way up the aisle to escape the stifling confines of the plane is the obviousness of the Team Canada gear he’s wearing.

In his billet bedroom, he tips his suitcase onto the floor and unzips it. The scent that wafts out, preserved all the way from their hotel room in Red Deer, brings him to his knees. He stays there like a supplicant at a Samsonite altar and gets a hand on himself, and when his knot swells he curls up on the floor to ride it out with his face in his dirty laundry, waiting for the relief that’s surely going to come when his knot recedes.

The relief doesn’t come. But Mason does. Again and again. After the next knot, he fumbles for his phone and bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to clear his head long enough to send a couple of texts. He tells the trainer from the Petes and his billet parents something about a positive COVID test. Then he locks his door for the next three days. He gets through his first rut alone, just him and his hand and the fading scent from his untouched suitcase.

After he emerges, they tell him he’s getting traded. Hamilton’s a contender. He’s going to have a chance to go for a championship, maybe a Memorial Cup. All Mason feels is relief that he’ll never have to see that billet room again.

“Welcome, brother.” Arber Xhekaj is one of the first guys in Hamilton to greet him, giving Mason a back-thumping hug.

Mason flicks his eyes around the room in a silent question, and Arber claps him on the shoulder and answers loud enough for everyone in the stalls around them to hear. “No, only one alpha on this team.” He gives Mason a wolfish smile. “Two now.”

Mason locks eyes with him and waits for Arber to look away first. Arber smells like cinderblocks, but Mason feels like an avalanche. He wants to fight. With Arber, against Arber, it doesn’t even matter. He wants to hit and take and howl, and that’s what he does all spring. 

He leans into the aggression that’s supposed to come with being an alpha, hunting every puck, winning every board battle, taking whatever he wants. Is he fearless because he’s an alpha, or because he just doesn’t care? There’s nothing for him here except to win, so that’s what he’s going to do. He barrels through everything in his way, straight to an OHL championship and the finals of the Memorial Cup.

After they lose, he gets a text from Kent. i know it fucking sucks, sorry. Mason remembers talking to him after the Frozen Four. Kent gets that going to the NHL doesn’t make up for losing when it counts. They’ve been in touch off and on since the aborted world juniors. Kent shit-talks USA Hockey with Mason and tells him how Luke Hughes keeps saying he wants to be a beta because he has one brother who’s an alpha and one brother who’s an omega (what is the deal with all Trevor’s friends, Mason wonders) and he doesn’t want to deal with all their bullshit.

Mason doesn’t ask Kent about Connor. But sometimes Kent tells him about something that happened in their training group or a sick roller hockey goal he scored off Connor’s feed. Keeping in touch with Kent feels like keeping alive Kent’s theories about Connor, about Connor and Mason. Like cupping that tiny spark in his hands, making space for the possibility, even as Mason keeps telling himself no and he’s sixteen.

In July, he texts Connor hbd, how’s the beard coming? and updates his mental refrain to “He’s seventeen.” Connor reposts another photo from his girlfriend. She looks like she smells like a pink macaron. Mason wonders if Connor’s into that. Then he reminds himself that Connor can’t smell anything yet anyway. He must date whoever he wants.

(next)

[eaglesnick]

“Labor is prior to, and independent of, capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor, and could never have existed if Labor had not first existed. Labor is superior to capital, and deserves much the higher consideration”.  Abraham Lincoln

So much media hot air about the term “working people”!

“What is a working person"?" asked the BBC, criticising Labour for not supplying a definition. Jacob Rees-Mogg mocked the use of the term by Labour on GB news and Money Weekly told its readers Keir Starmer was “struggling" to define what he meant by “working people”. The Daily Mail went even further, accusing Labour of giving a “desperate non-definition of “working people".

Unfortunately, Labour has twisted itself in knots trying to placate the media by coming up with a series of inadequate definitions that simply made matters worse, turning a non-story into a political own goal. Labour could have told the media to simply wait until the budget to find out who would be paying more tax but no, they couldn’t keep silent.

As silence doesn’t seem to have been an option maybe they should instead of turned to AI for a definition.  After all, according to Wes Streeting AI is going to help save the NHS so why not use it to help save the Labour Party from its own confusion as to who is a working person?

This is how the AI platform Copilot defines "working people"

"Working people" generally refers to individuals who are employed and earn a living through their labor. This term often encompasses a wide range of occupations, from manual laborers to office workers, and includes both full-time and part-time employees. It highlights the collective group of individuals who contribute to the economy through their work, often emphasizing the everyday efforts and challenges faced by those who rely on their jobs for financial stability and livelihood.”

Given my personal scepticism as to the efficacy of Artificial Intelligence as a cure-all for the follies of human kind I found this definition of “working-people” surprisingly accurate. But perhaps this is the very reason why Sir Kier Starmer and his front bench found the definition of “working people" so difficult.

The very first sentence states that working people are individuals who "earn a living through their labor”. It was Karl Marx who distinguished between the physical capacity to do work and Labour Power, the latter being the agreed price paid to a worker over an agreed period of time for their work.

 Marx argued that In capitalist societies the price paid to the worker for their labour is always LESS than the return for those who employ them. Working people have no option but to sell their labour power to a capitalist employer who owns the “means of production" (factory, office, equipment, raw materials etc) because without their own means of production they have no way of making a living. So, says Marx, half a days work may produce goods and services equal in value to the workers pay, but for the rest of the day the working person is producing “profit” for their employer.

Given the close association between labour power and Karl Marx and communist economic theory no wonder Sir Keir Starmer was reluctant to define “working people” in terms of labour and labour power. Sir Kier hates the left and has purged them from the Labour Party.

“Keir Starmer’s ruthless remaking of the Labour party

The opposition leader has consolidated control by taking over party machinery and sidelining the left as he bids for power." (Financial Times: 07/06/23)

I have no idea why Starmer hates the left and have yet to find anyone who does understand his almost paranoid attitude to left wing policies. For now we have to take it as read, which brings us to another objection Starmer might have with AI’s definition of working people.

AI uses the term “collective” to definition working people. This is yet another word that has communist/socialist  overtones, especially as Marx saw working people (or the working class) as a collective class that would rise up against the capitalist class and overthrow them. Whatever else Sir Keir is he is NOT anti-capitalist.

The sad fact is Starmer came to power promising left-wing policies but once elected as Labour leader he slowly reneged of every one of his former pledges. Labour left-wingers have been sacked, demoted and expelled from the party.

Although Starmer describes himself as a “socialist” his chancellor Rachel Reeves bulked at the word, professing to be a “social democrat” rather than a socialist. 

“The day after Starmer proclaimed himself a socialist, his shadow chancellor Rachel Reeves was asked about his statement and responded that she was a social democrat. Social democracy is about socialism, but within capitalism rather than beyond it.” (The Conversation: Is Keir Starmer a socialist?”)

No wonder the Labour Party comes across as confused and indecisive when it comes to defining the term “working people.” Labour  seems so be suffering from a political identity crisis. Starmer tells us he is a socialist yet has purged the Labour Party of anyone remotely socialist.

Again using AI, this is one definition of socialism:

“Socialism is an economic and political system where the means of production, distribution, and exchange are owned or regulated by the community as a whole. The idea is to reduce inequality by distributing wealth more evenly and ensuring that everyone has access to basic needs like healthcare, education, and housing. It emphasizes collective ownership and democratic control over resources and industries, rather than private ownership and profit-driven motives.”

Under this definition Starmer isn’t remotely socialist whatever he may say to the contrary.  Common ownership of the means of production rather than private ownership and profit driven motives are the last thing Starmer or his cabinet will endorse. No wonder they couldn’t find a definition of “working people” that didn’t involve paying lip service to socialist principles and heaven forbid Keir Starmer’s Labour Party would do that.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

A Hell of an Identity Crisis

Not Natural ✨ The Devil's Trap ✨ Holy Water ✨ The Demon's Altar ✨ Midnight Meeting ✨ The Hunter's Trap ✨ Sharp Secrets and Bloody Blades ✨ A Hunter's Beast Tamed ✨ No Chick Flick Moments ✨ Witches, Bitches, and Beasts ✨ Cursed or Not ✨ Poison Lips and True Love's Kiss ✨ Swallowing Hard Truths ✨ Salt and Burn ✨ Five More Minutes

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, plot heavy, surprise character, teasing, mentions of sex, needy grumpy Dom, Dom wishing his life were more fantasy, mentions of blood drinking, weaponry, talks about feelings, boys having to be honest, mentions of death, Big Feels, mentions of mpreg, secrets revealed, allusions to sexual assault (not them), boys not so secretly in love ⚰️ rating: mature

The visage of a crumbling factory of sorts loomed above the pair as they slowed the car to a stop. The Men of Letters Bunker had been quite a drive to find. Dom was driving of course and grumbling about having to, but he wouldn't let Kells behind the wheel yet. "Don't look like much." The boy muttered as he switched the car off and sat back to stretch. Keliphos got distracted when he raised his hips and twisted them, as if he were searching out some deep pop but nothing came. He hated seeing his human uncomfortable but any time he attempted to help he was shot down with jade glares or at times a quick swat of his hand.

"Would you want your collection of the most magical objects in the safest place in the world to look like it houses all that shit?" Kells offered a snarky explanation and the kid shrugged.

"Well maybe 'ere should be like… a mirage? People who deserve to see it see summat else?" Dom huffed back, reaching for his coffee but every sip turned his stomach. They hadn't exactly slept much the night before, they'd spent too much time fucking since their lazy play the morning before and not enough time actually relaxing. He didn't regret it but he was certainly feeling the drain. Or maybe he just felt off because they hadn't started their morning with pleasure. The devil had teased he was getting spoiled and should learn how to edge but that was never on his list of kinks. He liked instant gratification, not a drawn out game. He'd been starving since he opened his eyes like he was every morning anymore and even though he kept snacking on actual food, none of it helped.

"Anyone ever tell you how nerdy you are?" The nephalem asked, turning sideways and inching closer to his partner.

"I like 'Arry Potter. Don't be an arse, you." The Hunter replied. He couldn't help his love of fantasy or his annoyance of their paranormal world not having all the cool quirks. Twice the transphobia and less than half the mystics- it's was bollocks if you asked him. "Fuck did you do to me back ya wanker?" He added when he tried stretching again but it was to no avail. It just seemed he'd feel like hell without his demon's bodily fluids and he certainly saw the irony- he just didn't like it.

Keliphos rolled his eyes and a small laugh escaped him. He pushed a hand between the seat and his lover's sweat wet t-shirt and searched out where the pain was coming from. Dom sighed in relief as healing heat radiated through his spine but it didn't fix everything. "I didn't do anything, you're the one that crawled on my face to ride it. Not my fault you hump too hard."

"Actually-" Dom started to retort but his beast's dark chuckle slid over his skin and made him shiver. His tongue flicked over his suddenly dry lips and he had to swallow a whimper. How the fuck had he let someone find so much control over him?

"Thanks Domie, but-" Kells gently tapped a finger against his omega's chin and turned him until they were staring each other down. With the full weight of that heavy needy gaze he pressed forward and laid a gentle kiss to the punk's plush lips. Their breath caught, it was that easy to affect each other but before he got sucked in he gave them an inch of space between. "You needed to appear more human and I don't know if my blood is too strong inside you. I swear you can drain me later, alright?"

Dom could almost feel his pupils blowing at the promise and he licked his lover's flavor from his lips before nodding slowly. "Alright. Let's get 'is shite over wiv."

Keys and weaponry were pulled from the car and hidden in different spots on their bodies before they ventured closer. The building felt menacing in a way but somehow also not at all. It looked like you could touch the wall and get tetanus but it also had a pull emanating from it that called to Kells more intensely than any place besides Tom's. He didn't assume Dom was feeling it but when he glanced to him the kid was rubbing his abdomen with a scowl on his brows. "You good?" He asked, his hand reaching back to check on the Hunter. He hadn't meant to step in front of him protectively but it just happened.

"Yeah. Jus' a lil… I dunno." Dom sighed back, he wasn't sure if he was nauseous or nervous but his belly felt full of strange butterflies. He felt drawn to the place in front of them but the back of his mind said it wasn't okay that he could feel it. It was supposed to be null to humans, though he felt something at his best friend's home as well. "Probably me curse." He explained, nodding as if he were trying to convince himself just as much as his alpha.

"Yeah, maybe." Keliphos tried to help ease the worry he could feel from his bitch as he took his hand and pulled him down a flight of stairs. He knew enough about the place to know where the entrance was. He and Tom had pooled their knowledge and since the witch had helped build it they had the blueprints pretty well understood.

The door when they reached it looked normal enough but the key Kells pulled from his pocket was certainly something that could fit right in Diagon Alley. It was old and wooden, spell work etched into it, and it was about the size of his palm. He offered it to the human just in case the magical warding didn't like demons but Dom was shaking as he took it. Their witchy friend had worked protection spells around them both, something that matched the wards of the old bunker. They were both hoping the Hunter's that had lived there hadn't changed the magic too much but those boys had been known for starting trouble. "'Ere goes nuffin." Dom sighed, turning the key and pushing the heavy door open. Surprisingly it didn't creak ominously but he didn't know what to expect.

The first set of stairs seemed almost normal but they took them slowly, Kells leading the way until they reached the actual entrance door. That too opened smoothly and it hit him how well cared for the home was. For all it held the place was exactly that- a home to the homeless heroes. He always thought the Winchester's egos had been slightly inflated but at the same time… he had to admit they were that. "Well fuck." Dom whispered as they walked into the first area and down the stairs. The room was filled with equipment from long ago, tables with maps, and walls lined in just as many books as Tom's house.

The table they stopped in front of had letters etched into the top that had Dom pausing. He'd heard stories of course but it was starting to hit him where he was. His fingers traced the initials written with blades and emotions he didn't fully understand welled up inside him. "We should…" The demon trailed off. He wanted to get moving, he was sure some of the Winchester's old friends had alarms for the place. Whether heaven or hell he knew someone was watching and he didn't want to test pissing anyone off. He couldn't push the kid though, he could sense some intense feelings rolling off him and he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his lover.

"I'm alright. It's jus' strange, yeah? Regular people don't know. It jus' makes ya wonder 'ow long the legend lasts. Is tha' it? Will me memory jus' be me name carved somewhere and two immortals occasionally finking about me? 'Ow long before you and Tom forget…" He trailed off but the devil held him tighter.

"You're not going anywhere bitch, you think I'd let you go so easily? Nah. You're stuck with me now." Kells purred back, nuzzling his cheek to the kid's wild hair. That scared voice broke his heart even though he still wasn't sure he had one.

Dom started to say something back but the lights turned on all around them and their instincts kicked into overdrive. Dom had his newly acquired angel blade at the ready and Keliphos pulled one of his guns. He caught an eye roll from his partner but they were both too focused on their surroundings. "Hello Keliphos, Dominic. I mean you no harm. We felt the wards crossed and I just wanted to check who it was." A deep rasped voice filled the room before a man stepped out from the shadows. He had chocolate brown hair and blue eyes to rival the demon's though Dom wouldn't say it out loud. The man was wearing a trench coat and a soft smile and the nephalem couldn't believe his eyes.

"Castiel? But- you-" He couldn't think of the polite way to ask 'didn't you get devoured by the Empty?' but thankfully the angel understood.

"You can imagine how often I hear that. Yes, I was taken but I was saved. Rewarded I suppose, after everything. That's not why you came here though, was it?" They could both tell he didn't exactly seem like he wanted to talk about it. Even though Dom was dying to hear- the story was a bit legendary in the small queer hunting community, he knew better than to push. They were here for a favor technically.

"Angel to angel, we need the Colt." Keliphos explained without saying too much. He didn't trust other people around his boy.

Castiel stepped closer, his trench coat swishing around him. They put their weapons away, it didn't seem like he was there to attack- not physically at least. When he stood only a few inches away he took the demon's hand. "But you're not just an angel are you? Just like he's not just a boy. Tell me Keliphos, do you do this for love or revenge?"

The nephalem's brows furrowed but he tried to meet the angel's eyes. Fuck. He'd heard he was intense but it seemed worse. Blunt bastard. "Uh- revenge?" He meant it as a statement but it came out more a question that made the other man smile.

"I see lying to yourself is still part of the Hunter's manual." Cas was seemingly cracking a joke to himself but they were both too nervous to try and laugh. He nodded after a moment and dropped his hand, taking Dom's next. The devil had to fight himself not to growl.

"Dominic, do you do this for love or revenge?" He asked again and the boy could feel something under his skin. It felt like the angel was searching out his soul, looking through every atom that he was made up of just to find the truth.

Jade eyes flicked to the beast before dropping to the ground. It took him a moment to speak without stuttering. "It started as revenge. Astaroth killed me family and cursed me. The bastard ruined me life but now… now I know he's done so much worse."

"Do you still hate what you call a curse?" The angel pried a little deeper, his hands still wrapped around Dom's.

After watching his lover gripped by so many emotions all day Keliphos had to wonder if Dom was in heat. Even as he stood talking to Castiel he looked on the verge of crying and Kells almost called an end to it all but they were so close. So fucking close.

"I-" The Hunter's voice broke, his eyes welling with hot tears.

"Some might see it as a blessing. You remind me of one of my brothers actually. He was an omega who wanted to fight instead. He always hated what he was and called it a curse from our Father. Perhaps for him it was after all, he was stolen for exactly that reason but he told me…" Cas trailed off, his gaze flicking between them both. "I saw him after he was taken and he told me he finally understood love. That he knew our brothers and Father didn't know true love because as a mother- he finally felt how pure and strong it could be." He cleared his throat, staring off in the distance before he shook himself out of it. "You have that chance as well and I wonder if you still see it as a curse?"

Dom thought for a moment but before he could speak Kells did. "It doesn't matter, you seem to know enough about us so you should know-"

"Yes, I know what happened to you. I'm talking to your Hunter." It wasn't rude or dismissive exactly but the devil's eyes went wide anyway before he huffed and crossed his arms.

"I- no. I don't fink so. I mean… I don't want it to change when we kill Astaroth. I don't want Kells to leave if-"

"You have got to be kidding me-"

"Luv, shut up." Dom snapped before continuing. He was already tearing himself open, he didn't feel like fighting his lover. "I know we can't… but Tom said maybe he could 'elp after every'fin is settled. I don't want to change now. It feels… right wiv 'im. I want revenge for Kells, for me family, for the fact tha' we may never 'ave our own because of Astaroth. I want revenge for 'is mum and Ramiel. Any person he did it to. So… I do it for revenge for love." Dom took a deep breath after his little rant and felt himself shaking. When he met Castiel's eyes they were soft and smiling again.

"Did we pass your fucking test?" Keliphos grumbled. The knowledge that Dom was even thinking about wanting a family and he couldn't give it to him hurt. He didn't mean to snark the angel but he couldn't help it. Why did he have to fuck with them like that?

"You remind me of someone who used to live here. Answering all emotional situations with anger only hurts yourself, nephalem. Take care you don't push everyone away when you have what you need." The angel sighed, looking to the etching on the table. Without another word he vanished, the sound of rustling wings the only thing left.

"Great, you pissed off our 'elp. Fantastic job alpha." Dom growled, lacing his lover's title with sarcasm.

"I didn't mean to! He was touching you! I didn't like it. Plus-" His words were cut off by the angel reappearing and he was thankful. He might have been too honest in explaining how much it hurt him to know he couldn't give Dom what he wanted.

"Here, the Colt. It has been remade but tested I believe. Take it and avenge everything you have lost." Cas held a box out to Kells and he took it gratefully. He wanted to check the contents but that seemed rude given everything.

"Hey um… what happened to your brother?" The demon didn't mean to ask so bluntly but he couldn't help wondering. How many angels had his father stolen?

A confused look crossed the angel's face before he gave a wistful smile. "You would know better than I do. We thought Ramiel had fallen with Lucifer but I found him sometime later. He had been stolen by something we didn't have a name for at the time- you know before your father called himself a demon he was something else altogether. He had a young child with him. I believe he had been hiding with the help of the fae realm because he called the child 'Col' or, 'little creature'." He paused, tilting his head a moment. "I suppose my brother was just as literal as I was once. Ramiel loved that boy dearly. I… I never felt his death but I assume that's what happened to him." Cas looked pained by the thought but Kells could understand that, the guy had lost a lot over the years.

"I'm sorry Cas." He offered softly but almost growled when his lover stepped closer to the other man to give him a quick hug.

"Fank you Cas, you been a big 'elp. We'll bring it back if ya want, when we done."

"As long as you keep it safe we don't mind. Dean said- 'As long as it's kicking some demon ass like it's supposed to be.'" He quoted the human exactly- with air quotes at the wrong time and they all chuckled. Dom couldn't help seeing what Castiel had said, Kells did seem to have a kinship with the Hunter.

They said their 'see you later's, alluding to a future they didn't know for sure would come to pass but they didn't want to think it'd be the last time they'd ever see him. He gave them a few more things from around the bunker to help, all of it contained in a bag that felt well used and smelled like gunpowder and whiskey before he walked them to the door. Cas made sure the key was safely in the devil's pocket after he closed the door behind them and looked up to the sky. "I'm being summoned." He rolled his eyes but shook both their hands with a smile. When they turned back to the car he spoke one last time. "He wouldn't have given you up without a fight Col, he loved you fiercely just as you will love yours. If Ramiel is still alive your father may have him. Find him or at least find out the truth before using that weapon please." And with that he left them both dumbfounded and staring at each other.

Dom had known. Somewhere deep down he'd known, he was sure of it. Keliphos however would have ignored the possibility at all cost because knowing his mother's name made him all the more real. The nephalem was trembling as he walked the rest of the way to LuLu and his lover helped him inside. The fake leather was so hot it almost burned his skin but the pain helped ground him. His omega crawled into his lap to try and help even more. There was a new voice in his head that was almost louder than the boy's for a moment, a long buried memory that he thought had been carved out of him in hell. Bright blue eyes and long soft dark hair flashed in his mind so strong he could almost feel his tiny fingers curling in it. He had a name that wasn't a curse. He had been loved once. He wasn't hopeless. Was he? "Col." The memory hurt his heart but his partner brought him back with gentle kisses and loving soft touches.

"I've got you. Jus' breave. Wha' do you need?" The kid asked.

Kells squeezed the box tighter until the corners hurt his hands and grounded him. When he could finally see the world around him and breathe again another memory hit him. Tom giving him a look when Ramiel was mentioned. "Home. We need to go home. I'm okay, I just… I'm okay." He tried to soothe the nervous Hunter as he slid from the devil's lap and took his seat.

The beast waited a moment before thinking 'fuck it' and he laid out across the seat. His back was on the faux leather with his head in Dom's lap, turned sideways so he could scent his skin and nuzzle under his shirt. Sunlight and honey soothed his pain as the car started moving and the kid pet through his hair. He had a few questions for their witch friend but Tom was fast becoming family so there had to be a reason. He couldn't piss off the guy who was going to help them someday but shit- Tom owed them after that. Kells has another name and maybe a family. But… he had that already didn't he? Dom was his family. He could handle anything they learned about Ramiel as long as he had him and that more than anything proved the angel's point. It was love he was fighting for, not revenge. Fuck.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

Well that was a plot heavy chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! So Ramiel is his mom, did anyone realize already? Why did Tom seem to know but not tell them? Why can Dom feel the magic of the bunker? How will they find out about Ramiel? Why was he hiding with the fae? How will Kells handle the news? Keep reading to find out! Thank you so much 🖤⚰️

[mantherrrr23]

The Truth Bringing Vice Admiral! Sanji and Zoro’s Confessions.

Chapter 1

Two Days after Leaving Punk Hazard.

“Luffy, I swear if you flick that booger, and it lands on me again, I am going over there and hitting you,” Usopp growls.

Aboard the Sunny were the straw hat pirates along with Trafalgar Law, Kin’emon, Momonosuke, and the evil clown Luffy defeated at Punk Hazard, Ceasar. Kin’emon, Luffy, Law, Sanji, Brook, Franky, and Usopp were on the lawn deck of the ship. Usopp was sitting on the swing while the rest of them sat on the grass. Nami and Robin took Momonosuke to the bathroom to clean him up, Zoro was up in the observatory probably working out instead of keeping watch, and Chopper was in his infirmary room analyzing the drug the kids were forced to take on the island.

Ceasar was sitting upright against the side of the deck, always kept in Law’s sight. Everywhere he went, he dragged Ceasar along with him. The clown’s hands were bound together by sea prism stone handcuffs, so it wasn’t like he had a choice.

Luffy pulls his pinky out of his nose. To Usopp’s relief, it was booger-less. He wipes it on his shorts before looking back at Law, who was desperately trying to get him to follow his plan in the next step of taking down Kaido. Luffy hasn’t been the most cooperative since they made their alliance.

“Doflamingo won’t be like Ceasar, straw hat.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to kick his ass,” Luffy snaps back. “I’ll let you handle the factory and the hostage situation.”

“You can’t just barge in the kingdom demanding Doflamingo come to you,” Sanji mutters.

“And you definitely can’t walk into the castle expecting everyone to just let you through,” Law adds on. “Your crew understands, so why can’t you just go with my plans? Besides, if a fight does happen, I’m going to be the one killing Doflamingo.”

“Luffy doesn’t like to follow orders. He’ll help you, but you can’t expect him to do it your way,” Franky replies.

“I can’t be free if I’m following someone’s orders. I also don’t like giving them, which is why my crew is able to do as they please most of the time. I know enough that I can’t become King of the Pirates alone, but I don’t need a hundred men to do it. They have my back, and I have theirs. If you have my back, I will always have yours in return.”

There was silence for a moment while Law looked around at the straw hats. “Yeah.. but-”

“Look, just forget about it,” Sanji says as he stands up. “Luffy is dead set doing things his way. We have learned to just about do the same. Nine times out of ten our plans never work, and we get captured, or some thing or someone blocks our path. We’re only successful if we follow Luffy’s unpredictable path.”

Usopp sighs from the swing. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. It’s like something lights the correct path for him in his heart, and he just follows it.”

Luffy chuckles. “Sanji, are you ready to cook lunch?”

“I can’t cook any meat. You ate the last of it last night. I can make sandwiches. Unless you want to go fishing and have an early dinner.”

“Usopp, let’s go get Chopper and see if he wants to help,” Luffy says as he gets up. Usopp gets up and follows after his captain.

“I’ll begin preparing the side dishes.”

Sanji starts walking towards the kitchen after them. He closed his eyes when he felt the knot in his stomach tighten harder with each step he took. Ever since they left Punk Hazard, memories of Zoro catching him while he was inside Nami’s body flood into his thoughts like a tsunami.

He had been stupidly watching her boobs bounce while he ran with Zoro and Brook on the snowy side of the island when he slipped. Zoro’s hand had caught his own, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Sanji was confused, and Zoro was worried. Their facial expressions were clear as day. It didn’t last for very long though. Brook ruined the moment by saying how romantic they were being which caused Zoro to freak out and throw Sanji (still in Nami’s body) on the ground. Then he claimed the only reason he caught him was because he didn’t want Nami’s body to get a bruise even though he just body slammed it like nothing.

Back on the island, there was too much going on for Sanji to think about the look Zoro was making at the time. It didn’t really sink in until the first night back on the ship. He had a hard time falling asleep, and it was late into the morning before he finally passed out. Dreams of Zoro doing ungodly things to him had him waking up gasping only a couple of hours later. His throat was dry, and he was sweating profusely. To make matters worse for him, when he sat up to grab some water from the sink, he noticed he reacted to those dreams in a different way as well.

‘Just get it out of your head. Sanji,’ he thinks to himself as he heads to his fridge. ‘It was nothing. Just a big misunderstanding, that’s all.’

He unlocks the fridge (Luffy likes to steal food at night) and opens it. The door to Chopper’s med bay opened up. Usopp, Luffy, and Chopper skipped out into the kitchen and passed through to the other door leading to the lawn deck. They gave him smiles as they left. Sanji smiled softly before looking back into the fridge.

Meanwhile, while Sanji starts preparing the food, Zoro climbs down from the observatory. He watches Usopp run to the edge of the ship with three fishing poles before looking towards the kitchen. He didn’t see the cook anywhere out here, so he guessed he’d be in there. Before he pushed it open, he paused and bit his lip.

Just like Sanji, he’s been having a hard time sleeping because of what happened on Punk Hazard. They were even having similar dreams too. They just didn’t know that.

‘There’s no way Sanji’s given it a second thought.’ Zoro asked himself. ‘God, what is wrong with me? Get it together.’

Sanji had his back towards him chopping up a tomato when Zoro finally walked in. He took a deep breath and made his presence known.

“Is there anymore saké?” Zoro called out to him.

Sanji jumps, and the knife in his hands slips and cuts his finger a little. He hissed and grabbed some paper towels. He wrapped his finger and spun around to glare at his Zoro. He was about to say something about shoving the bottle straight up his ass, but the moment their eyes met, the air changed drastically. Zoro felt it too, and he took a step back from the pressure.

Sanji was the first to look away. He tossed the paper towel in the trash before he came around and disappears in the food storage room. Zoro noticed Sanji’s ears were slightly pink as he passed and took a mental photo of it.

‘So, does that mean he’s been thinking about it too?’ Zoro wonders. He looks up just as Sanji returns with a new bottle. He looked a little more composed now. The blush was gone too.

“This is the last one. Make it last, Marimo.”

I shiver goes through Zoro as he reaches for the bottle. He takes it and nods. “We can get more at the next island…”

“Sure, I’ll add it to my list,” the blonde agrees.

“Uh, what’s on the menu tonight?” Zoro wasn’t trying to leave yet, but if he didn’t have an excuse as to why, Sanji might suspect something. It could make things more awkward.

Sanji smirked. “I’m not telling you unless you join us.”

Zoro felt a tug in his heart but didn’t show it. He returned the smirk and said, “Why? Miss me, love cook?”

That was not what Sanji was expecting him to say. His ears turned pink again and went in defense mode instantly.

“No! I don’t miss your smelly ass at all! Why don’t you go take a bath, stupid mosshead.” Sanji pushes him out of the way and goes back to the counter.

Except, Zoro didn’t let him. He grabbed his elbow and made Sanji turn around with a tug. “Loosen up. I was only joking.”

Only.. Zoro hadn’t been joking. Sanji’s reaction had questions running through his head, and he wanted answers.

“What’s your problem?” Zoro demanded when Sanji tries pulling his arm free.

Sanji’s eyes widened. Zoro held them with his own eyes, searching for a clue. The flips Sanji’s stomach was doing made him feel like he was going to throw up.

“Nothing! Get your hand off me,” Sanji warned instead. He had no plans on telling the moss head anything. Super embarrassing!

“Not until you answer me. You blushed earlier when I scared you, and you’re blushing now. Why aren’t you throwing kicks at me?”

Sanji stood very still; his eyes changed to a glare. “Fine. You want it, you got it.”

Zoro didn’t have time to block the kick Sanji landed on his stomach. The breath was knocked out of him, and he went soaring through the kitchen door and down the stairs on the deck. He landed on the grass with a bang. Sanji followed him out, but stopped at the top.

“I told you to let me go, didn’t I? How was that kick you wanted so badly?”

Zoro laughed darkly as he sat up. “It hurt like a bitch. What happened? Did I strike a nerve, love cook?”

“Piss off! I’ll send someone to you with your dinner. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”

Sanji turned and stormed back into his kitchen. Zoro sighed and stood up. He grabbed his sake and headed back to the crow’s nest. He froze when he realized a few more people were present on the deck now. They were staring at him with their jaws dropped.

“Damn Zoro, what did you do?” Usopp asked. “I have never seen Sanji like that.”

“It’s none of your business, frankly. I’m going back to working out. If Sanji asks any of you to bring me food, don’t bother. I won’t eat that crappy cook’s food until he tells me what’s up his ass.”

And with that, Zoro left.

“Damn,” Franky says.

“Brook,” Nami says, “Did something happen on Punk Hazard while y’all were together?”

Brook hums as he strums his guitar softly. “There was one time Sanji slipped on the ice. Zoro caught his hand to stop him, and they stood there just staring at each other. Sanji was still in your body Nami, and Zoro didn’t want you to get a bruise. But the way they looked at each other was almost romantic, yohohohoho.”

“Romantic?” Luffy asked making a face. “Those two? Yeah right.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that wasn’t it,” Usopp agrees. “Besides, Sanji loves the ladies too much.”

“Guys, think about it. Sanji said, “I told you to let me go, didn’t I?’ Zoro must have grabbed him in a way he didn’t like,” Chopper says.

“Or… he could have gotten flustered,” Robin adds.

Everybody was so involved in their discussion that they forgot about the fishing. They lost track of time and didn’t notice when Sanji came out to check their progress. He caught wind of what they were talking about and glared at them.

“There's no way. Zoro only likes fighting and drinking. Sanji only likes fighting, cooking, and girls may I add. They argue all the time. A little slip in the snow is not going to suddenly make them like each other,” Usopp says.

“Ahem?!” Sanji says. Everyone jumps, and the three who were supposed to be fishing suddenly remembered their jobs and went back to doing it like nothing happened. “You guys shouldn’t talk about people behind their backs. Did he say something to y’all?”

“Uh… well Usopp asked what he did to make you kick him like that, and he told us it was none of our business. Then he told us that until you tell him what’s up your ass, he’s refusing your food. I need you to go ahead and sort this out. I don’t want drama on the ship,” Nami says.

“Yeah, I agree,” Law says. “I know I’m not on your crew, but this mission is important, and we need everyone focused.”

“Sir Sanji, are you in love with Sir Zoro?” Kin’emon asked.

Sanji’s face turned red. “What? No!” he barked.

“Hmm, Robin might be right after all,” Chopper ponders.

“I do not love Zoro, okay? He makes my blood boil. How do yall even know I slip-” He looks at Brook. His eyes turned to daggers. “You told them what happened, did you?”

Brook starts sweating. “Not all of it, if you catch my drift. I left that part out for your sake.”

Nami starts smiling slowly, catching the hint. “Sanji, what were you doing in my body while you were falling?”

Everyone who wasn’t fishing made themselves scarce, even Brook. Sanji swallows.

“I was looking down at your boobs while running..” he figured it was better to tell the truth.

A vein in Nami’s head popped as she raised her hand and slammed it down hard on his head. Sanji fell to the ground while she stormed off. Luffy laughed. “Typical Nami.”

“She’s scary when she’s mad. Everyone just left,” Usopp replies.

Sanji looked at them from the floor. “Good. The discussion is over. I don’t want you talking about it anymore. Captain, I’ll speak to Zoro when I bring his dinner myself. He’s going to eat, even if I have to shove it down his throat.”

[mythvoiced]

Aeri can’t decide what she hates more - the way the bejeweled pin in the victor from District 8’s hair is lopsided, or the girl herself. Oh, what Aeri wouldn’t give to wear such an accessory again, or even wear the finery the victor has been gifted to wear to the viewing. That was her once, wasn’t it?

But now? She’s stuck here, watching this spectacle. The brat, who has no idea what privilege she’s been presented with, keeps on creasing the delicate threads of her gown and her stylists also clearly have no idea on how to do the brat’s makeup. And then there’s that damn pin- Aeri’s pin once upon a time- only in place because it’s tangled in there-

And Aeri can’t hold back. When the brat’s stylists are gone, she reaches into the girl’s hair and extracts the pin. Her fingers, callused from years of hard labor that still feels foreign to Aeri, are quick to untangle most of the obvious knots in the brat’s hair before shetwists the locks into a ponytail and then a bun. The pin goes back in.

Aeri glares at the girl through the mirror. Don’t you dare mess up my work.

( congrats lenlen!! you get....aeri, being really resentful, i hope marìa doesn't mind too much ^^' )

@stillresolved | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HER BE RESENTFUL

---

There's a harshness to being dolled up when you are in no way receptive to it.

María isn't foreign to the roughness of life - she's a fucking Victor, after all, isn't she - she's started working in factories just about around the age even the most moral of District 8 people might turn their back in fear on seeing her walk in, pretending not seeing her would free them of the responsibility of working with a child.

Her hands and nose and palate and lungs had long gotten used and keep getting used to the aftermath of working with chemicals, of being so very intimate with garments and colours, with fumes and heat, with the hard work of surviving, with the hard work of fighting to be allowed a minimal chance at said survival, at figuring that there's little more for people from District 8 to fight for.

Still... it's not the same.

Being pushed around, dressed in things she would have never chosen for herself to serve a people, a man, because she's not stupid enough to not be able to tell what is Capitol and what is Snow and how Capitol is Snow, it's a kind of biting and harsh and rough that doesn't leave behind the usual kind of scars and memories and bruises.

Even surviving the Games had come with a desperately accepted sense of relief, one covered in blood and the humiliation of all she'd done and all she'd thought she'd get to accomplish, only for reality to crash in on her in a victory she hadn't wanted to partake in, hadn't wanted to make possible, when she'd wanted her Games to be victor-less in lieu of ending the Games themselves.

This... this is humiliation in the long run. This has hardly any hope attached to it, waiting for her on the other end of the line. Sometimes, on the worst days, it feels like the true brunt of the battle, walking with blood-stained soles and palms and sparkling as she does, wearing all that might make even the softest source of light appear like flames reflecting off her frame, covering her in fire that had not eaten her alive - much to a few people's disdain.

Picking at things, not holding still, grimacing, shifting her muscles, arms, face to make her stylists' life as difficult as possible, it was all she had to fight back.

The Arena came with death and violence, and living back at home had been physical labour upon physical labour, straining her young body until she could no longer tell if she was broken beyond repair or fitter than children her age should be - had they grown up privileged within the Capitol's safety.

Here she has only threads to tear apart and reflections to glare at.

And a new challenge behind every door.

She feels yanked back, an intensity of motion caused less by the avox suddenly in her hair and more her own stiffness that hadn't prepared her for submission to someone suddenly rearranging her.

After her stylists had left, she'd succumbed to the tension of not wanting to be there, without the added hard work of making sure everybody else does. Lost in her thought, somebody's hands suddenly returning on her had fortified, molten it into a newly forged blade, stiff and ready to strike, tensing everything within her and making a few fingers in her hair turn into a grappling hook tied to a moving mountain.

María is startled enough she can't remember how to glare.

A frown does accompany her widened eyes anyway, making her look... appalled, almost, an addition to her expression so unsuited to typically frightened features, youth tainted by the face of someone used to having to fight to stay alive.

It almost happens in a flash then. The reflection moves and adjusts and fixes and what had started as something that had María's lips split into something acid and trembling, turns into something unpleasant and acrid, but silent, as María sits and lets herself be mandhandled one more time.

That's when she glares. After the avox finishes up, after their eyes meet in the mirror and María sees none of the downturned gazes they're trying to make her accustomed to.

Seeing avoxes pisses her off.

Why take it out on them.

She understands what they are, what they're supposed to represent.

To her, an avox is a statement. No longer a person but rather someone rid of their innate right to be considered one. Even with the determination and life in this avox' eyes, María has come to understand them as tools Snow uses to assert his dominance, people from all circles of life, punished with the robbing of their words... and their detached tongue metaphorically forced to lick away at the tip of the shoes of people like María.

All a scheme.

Infighting.

Use the prey on the prey, make them take each other out.

It'd be easier to feel pity if María could sleep, if the avox hadn't adjusted her appearance, and if the avox wasn't staring her down as if she had any right to do so.

She's oddly beautiful.

She's oddly familiar.

"Why are you helping them?" she hisses, low, whispered, because she might never admit it, but she's... she's a little scared, isn't she? Lately? Devora's face swims before her inner eye, so stern, so wrong.

"I'm on your side more than they are," she adds, pulling a strand of her hair out of the freshly adjusted bun.

[fantoccia]

I hate it when my yarn has a knot in it, but it's not like a tangled knot it's more like the factory finished rolling up one length of yarn and need to add on another and instead of spinning them together seamlessly, they just knot em together and continue rolling the skein.... as if that knot isn't going to look horrible in the product...

[urban-homesteading]

If you're making changes in your life because you want to save the planet, it's going to be way easier if you pick a priority and stick with it.

For me, I want to destroy plastic. I want plastic to never be mass produced again and every molecule on earth hovered out of the environment and out of my blood.

That way, when it comes to the Gordian knot choices of: do I buy this plastic broom which is cheaper and made by a local factory, or do I buy this corn broom which is made in a different country and has a way higher carbon cost? I go with the corn broom because how much I hate plastic.

So make sure to set base line priorities to refer to when making moral decisions in this hell.

[queenshelby]

The Concubine - Part Eight

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Graphic Torture, Blood, Angst, Violence, Loss of Pregnancy, Smut

Words: 2,656

One week has passed since you miscarried and your life had changed quite significantly. You were sharing it with Tommy now and he was very different to Steven. To your surprise, he was gentle and caring and this wasn’t something you were expecting from a man in his position and with his standing.

You knew what he did and what he was involved in. The murders, the killing, the drug trafficking. You weren’t blind and business was always on his mind. In fact, his mind never rested. He couldn’t rest. There was too much to do and he still craved revenge.

Whilst you had never spoken about it again, the beatings and causing you to miscarry, you knew that he wanted to see Steven suffer for what he did to you. But, Steven was nowhere to be found until that very cold Sunday evening where everything changed with a phone call from Arthur.

‘Fucking got em Tom’ Arthur said through the phone and Tommy was quick to put on his jacket and coat, making his way through the door and to his silver Bentley.  

‘Where are you going Tommy?’ you asked surprised as you followed him through the door. He seemed to be in a mad rush.

‘I’ve got work to do Love. Don’t wait up, eh’ Tommy said, turning around briefly to give you a kiss.

‘Tommy, you promised’ you pouted, knowing that tonight was the night your abstinence and hunger for him was to come to end.

‘I will make it up to you, eh?’ Tommy said with a grin before you pulled him in for another kiss.

‘You will?’ you asked, biting your lip seductively. Whilst you were still bruised and hurt, you were desperate for him to take you. You loved being intimate with him.

‘Yes, I will, and you won’t be able to walk straight for fucking days, eh’ Tommy winked before getting into his car, causing you to laugh.

***

When Tommy arrived at the factory building where Arthur and Michael held Steven captive, the anger within him was building and so was his rage.

He knew what Steven had done to you and he knew what he had done to other women, including several working girls at establishments owned by the Shelby family while using an alias.

‘At last, we meet, eh’ Tommy said harshly as he sat down on a chair across from Steven who was bound to a pole with a with rope. A white piece of fabric was tied around his mouth to keep him quiet while he was sweating profusely.

‘It was fucking hard to find you. But now that you are here, your father can go free, get on with business or, more so, start over again because you fucked up, eh’ Tommy said as he removed the white fabric from Steven’s mouth.

‘I haven’t done anything to you. What the hell do you want from me?’ Steven asked, shivering and crying as he did. He was fearful and believed that Tommy was there to kill him.

‘I don’t want anything from scum like you. All I want is for you to pay for your fucking sins, eh’ Tommy growled, pulling Steven up on his shirt as he did.

‘If this is about this whore your brother saved, she fucking deserved it’ Steven then said, unable to hold back his emotion and, just as he did, Tommy pulled off his razor cap and slowly dragged it across Steven’s face, causing him to bleed profusely.

‘Listen to me you little fuck. I have made a deal with your father not to kill you but if you disrespect Y/N again, I will end you in the most painful way possible’ Tommy then said louder as Steven’s screams.

‘She cheated on me and I should have beaten her to death’ Steven growled in anger and pain.

‘He didn’t fucking listen to a word I said’ Tommy observed with a chuckle. ‘Did he fucking listen Arthur?’ he then asked, looking at Arthur.

‘No Tommy. He didn’t listen’ Arthur confirmed.

‘Pull him up, put him onto the table and start with what he did to his fiancée and the whores he visited at our establishments’ Tommy growled, handing one of his men a belt and they were quick to comply with Tommy’s request while Tommy watched.

‘She did fucking cheat on you, didn’t she, eh’ Tommy then said as the tenth stroke hit Steven’s back.

‘Because why would she be with someone like you...’ he went on to say as the twelfth stroke came down, causing Steven to cry in pain.

‘He is enjoying this too fucking much. Hit him harder’ Tommy then instructed before he continued on.

‘Now, I tell you a little secret Steven. The man she cheated on you with was me. Unlike you, I didn’t force her to do anything, treated her with respect and, if it wasn’t for you fucking animal, she would still be carrying my child. You killed my child and you can be grateful that I didn’t know that she was pregnant before she lost the baby, eh. Because if I would have known, you most certainly would die tonight’ Tommy then said, pulling on Steven’s cheek with anger as the 20th stroke hit him.

‘How does it fucking feel, eh? Being treated and abused like this’ Tommy growled when the final stroke came down on Steven’s back and he told his men that this was enough.

‘I am sorry please…please just stop’ Steven pleaded as tears were running down his face.

‘So that you can go back and rape more prostitutes, beat more women or take your anger out on anyone else who is not equal in size to you?’ Tommy asked.

‘I promise, I won’t hurt anyone…please just let me go’ Steven pleaded.

‘No, you won’t. I will make sure of that’ Tommy then said, pulling his face close as the blood from Steven’s cheek-stained Tommy’s clothes.

Then Tommy pulled Steven of the table and, whilst the blood from Steven’s back now also covered Tommy, he forced him to turn around and sit on the chair in the corner.

‘If you come near Y/N, or her family or any of my establishments, I will have you killed and I will also have your father and brothers killed. Do you understand?’ Tommy asked, causing Steven to nod.

‘Good’ he growled before turning around, facing his men.

‘Finish it’ he then ordered before lightening himself a cigarette and handing one of his men a hot piece of metal.

‘This will hurt’ Arthur then said as he followed Tommy to his car and, just as they left the building, they could hear the screams in the distance as Tommy’s men were branding Steven’s skin with the word ‘Rapist’ as a warning for any women who would cross his path.

‘See that the women in our establishments receive compensation for what he has done to them. Also, I am taking a break for two weeks. I trust you can handle matters without me, eh’ Tommy then said to Arthur, causing Arthur to nod.

‘A break? Arthur asked surprised.

‘I promised Y/N a holiday when this is over. And now it’s over’ Tommy then said.

***

It was at around midnight when you heard Tommy’s car pull up in front of the house and, whilst he told you not to stay up, you did and waited for him in the small reading room leading to his office.

‘You waited up, eh’ Tommy said somewhat surprised when he saw you wearing nothing but black and very seductive lingerie as he hung up his jacket and gun holster.

‘Tommy, are you alright? Your clothes are covered in blood’ you said with worry as you quickly walked over towards him.

‘Yes Love, it’s not my blood’ Tommy said, reassuring you before kissing you gently.

‘Then who’s blood is it?’ you asked almost unbothered by it.

‘Steven’s’ Tommy said carefully, leaving you speechless.

‘I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t. Yet, he got what deserved and he won’t be hurting anyone else’ Tommy then said, sighing as he did and, just like that, you crashed your lips onto his in haste.

There was something wrong but yet sexy about all of this, Tommy covered in blood, the man you loved seeking revenge on the man you hated with all your heart.

‘I need you to fuck me, right here and right now’ you said. Your crimson lips curled, taking on a sinful countenance as your ever hungry tongue slithered forth before whispering ‘I need you Tommy’.

‘My clothes are stained with blood Y/N, I should…’ Tommy said, holding back and, before he could finish his sentence, you responded.

‘I don’t care’ you said with urge and Tommy was quick to return your kiss.

You felt small as he towered over you but you drew up to your full height and boldly ran your hands over his chest.

You then stepped back just far enough to let your nimble fingers glide over Tommy’s tie and shirt, unbuttoning his vest and releasing the loose knot of his tie.

‘Fuck’ he simply growled and you watched his eyes crawl from your encased feet, up your stocking legs, to the clasp of the garter...following the garter straps up and noticing what the frame job was doing to your immaculately bare pussy.

You couldn't help but shiver as Tommy took in the sight of your mound. You could tell just how excited he was by your swollen glistening pussy lips and clit peeking out from under its protective hood. Tommy’s eyes only pulled away reluctantly, to continue the sight-seeing journey they started until your eyes met.

What you saw there made your heart skip a beat. Gone was the selfless man that saved you as he once again transformed into a predator ... and you were his prey.

The smile that your face sported grew with a devilish delight. Finally, the week of abstinence was coming to an end and you would get to experience the beast within Tommy again.

You had no time to react as Tommy stepped close, pushing you back against the wall with a resounding grunt, his hands moving to the lace barely covering your breasts and tugged the flimsy material down.

‘Tell me if I am hurting you, alright? Your back is still bruised’ Tommy said caringly and you nodded before pulling him closer again.

‘I need you to fuck me, Tommy. No holding back, please’ you demanded, causing Tommy to chuckle.

Your breasts were fully exposed now with the prickly lace under the tender flesh, your nipples extended and aching. Tommy used this moment to exert his prowess, as strong fingers captured the taut buds, pinching, rolling and tugging them until he heard a familiar moan.

His lips quickly and fiercely covered yours in a consuming kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, finding yours and battling with it. You knew the demanding kiss was intended to keep you as quiet as possible with the maids around but you couldn't help but return it with equal urgency and demand.

You felt one of Tommy’s hands release your aching nipple and slither down to your fiery pussy. His fingers rough as they worked between the slick folds and against your erect clit. You cried out, his mouth the only thing keeping the sound to a minimum, as your hips bucked against his questing fingers. You ached for those same fingers to worm their way into your seeping hole and give you the slightest moment of relief, but no ... that was not his plan at all.

Your own hands were not still, as the nails of your left hand raked harshly against his shoulder, while your right hand found the buttons of his pants and tore at them. You needed this just as much as he did and were rewarded with little "pops" as the buttons released. You fished your hand behind Tommy’s briefs seeking what you had hoped was his throbbing cock and were again rewarded as your fingers wrapped around his steely member and began to stroke.

Tommy groaned and broke the kiss, panting heavily, nostrils flaring and you saw the darkness in his eyes deepening. His fingers still danced between your thighs and your own hand continued to stroke his hot cock all the while you dared to whisper, ‘I need you inside me Tommy, please’

With each word spilling from your lips, you squeezed his cock in exclamation. There was no doubting your words or purpose.

Tommy needed no other prompting as he pulled his hands from your needy body and worked his pants and boxers down just past his ass, his beautiful cock sprang into full view now, swollen,

Some pre-cum was glistening at the deep red tip and though you longed to tongue bathe that precious organ, Tommy again decided the outcome of this particular adventure.

His hands cupped your ass, lifting you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your back hard against the wall, your left-hand clutching at him while your right was positioning his cock at your seeping hole. Tommy’s eyes never left yours as he thrusted forward, burying his cock easily into your lava-like cavern.

‘Oh god yes, fuck Tommy’ you moaned before you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down, wanting so badly to cry out in pure pleasure as Tommy quite literally took you. Each thrust was more powerful than the last and you knew that you would most definitely be sore in the morning.

Tommy’s fingers curled painfully into the flesh of your ass, holding you tightly as he roughly drove his member into your spasming pussy. It didn't surprise you when you felt the index fingers of his hands work their way to your wicked hole and pry before pushing them inside the sinful star.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as you bit down harder on your lip, tasting blood but managing to squelch the whorish moan that threatened to burst forth.

Tommy worked his fingers in deeper and though you tried, you couldn't gain enough purchase to meet his pounding thrusts. Tommy pulled back just far enough that his swollen tip rubbed the hidden bundle of nerves within you and sent you flying over the edge.

He saw how your eyes widened, how your own nostrils flared and knew you were about to cum. His mouth covered yours possessively again, drinking in the scream of utter bliss and complete orgasmic delight. Your pussy rippled down Tommy’s length, pulling his own release from him.

Your hand left his shoulder and found Tommy’s head, pulling his mouth tightly to yours. It was your turn to devour his guttural growl and devour you did. You drank his pleasure down as his cock spit his precious seed deep into your mound, painting you.

It all happened so fast with an urgency born of intense need. As Tommy’s cock slipped free, he looked into your eyes.

‘Fuck’ Tommy huffed, letting go of you slowly before kissing you again passionately.

‘I missed this Tommy’ you said just before Tommy pulled up his pants and lifted you up.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked as Tommy carried you upstairs.

‘The bathtub for round two, then the bed for round three and I haven’t decided where we will take round four yet, maybe my office…’ Tommy smirked and your eyes widened in disbelieve.

‘I told you, you won’t be walking straight for days, eh’ he then grinned, causing you to giggle.

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[morguemaw]

1. I saw an ad for burial plots, but that’s the last thing I need.

2. Did you hear about the silk worm race? It ended in a tie.

3. I got fired from the calendar factory, just for taking a day off.

4. Q: What’s the best thing about Switzerland? A: Well, the flag is a big plus.

5. Clones are people two.

6. I wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift, but I couldn’t find a manual.

7. Napoleon may not have designed his coat, but he did have a hand in it.

8. I put up a high-voltage electric fence around my house. My neighbor is dead against it.

9. What are windmills’ favorite genre of music? They’re big metal fans.

10. The past, present, and future walk into a bar. It was tense.

11. Shopping centers, you’ve seen one, you’ve seen the mall.

12. My ceiling isn’t the best, but it’s up there.

13. I love whiteboards. They’re re-markable.

14. Which country’s capital has the fastest-growing population? AIreland. Every day it’s Dublin.

15. The machine at the coin factory just suddenly stopped working. It doesn’t make any cents.

16. I tried to make a belt out of watches. It was a waist of time.

17. I went to a new mechanic. They came highly wreck-a-mended.

18. What’s the difference between a hippo and a Zippo? A hippo is really heavy, and a Zippo is a little lighter.

19. Yesterday a clown held the door open for me. It was such a nice jester.

20. Why can’t you run through a campground? You can only ran, because it’s past tents.

21. Becoming a vegetarian is a big missed steak.

22. Why can’t Harry Potter tell the difference between his potion pot and his best friend? They’re both cauld ron.

23. An atom lost an electron. It really should keep an ion them.

24. What’s the best time on a clock? 6:30, hands down.

25. Please don’t make my funeral too early. I’m not really a mourning person.

26. I got fired from the bank. A man asked me to check his balance, so I pushed him over.

27. Why did the lizard say he named his baby “Tiny?” Because he’s my newt.

28. Someone stole the police station’s toilets. They have nothing to go on.

29. Having sex in an elevator is wrong on so many levels.

30. What’s the difference between a poorly dressed man on a bicycle and a nicely dressed man on a tricycle? Attire.

31. What does C.S. Lewis keep in his wardrobe? Narnia business.

32. I put all my cash into an origami business. It folded.

33. I was worried about being in a long-distance relationship. But so far so good.

34. I suffer from kleptomania. But I take something for it.

35. I’m afraid of negative numbers. I’ll stop at nothing to avoid them.

36. Acupuncture is a jab well done.

37. Two antennas got married. The ceremony wasn’t much, but the reception was excellent.

38. I quit my job at the donut factory. I was fed up with the hole business.

39. I once ate a watch. It was time consuming.

40. RIP boiling water. You will be mist.

41. Why did the monk refuse novocaine when he had his tooth pulled? He wanted to transcend dental medication.

42. Just found out sticks float. They would.

43. My boat was cold, I tried to make a fire but it sank. I guess you can’t have your kayak and heat it too.

44. I went to that new restaurant, Karma. There’s no menu, you just get what you deserve.

45. Why do cows have bells? Because their horns don’t work.

46. You can’t trust atoms, they make up everything.

47. I met a criminal with a bounty on his head. That was a weird place to keep paper towels.

48. A psychic tried to sell me information on my past lives. I hate used karma dealers.

49. I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down.

50. I met my wife on a dating site. We just clicked.

51. I did a theatrical performance about puns. It was a play on words.

52. Thanks for explaining the word “many” to me. It means a lot.

53. My roommates suspect I’m stealing their kitchen utensils. But that’s a whisk i’m willing to take.

54. I’m going to try velcro instead of shoe laces. Why knot?

55. I decided to get rid of my spine. It was holding me back.

56. Long fairy tales have a tendency to dragon.

57. Knowing how to pick locks has opened a lot of doors for me.

58. No matter how kind you are, German children are kinder.

59. Architects are good at coming up with concrete plans.

60. I should have been sad when my flashlight batteries died, but I was delighted.

61. Who designed King Arthur’s round table? Sir Cumference.

62. What happened when the semi-colon broke grammar laws? He was given two consecutive sentences.

63. I recently took a pole and found out 100% of campers were angry when their tent collapsed.

64. I couldn’t remember how to throw a boomerang. Eventually it came back to me.

65. A friend said he didn’t understand cloning. I told him that makes two of us.

66. I had a pun about amnesia, but I forget how it goes.

67. Santa Claus’s elves are subordinate clauses.

68. I’m designing a reversible jacket. I’m excited to see how it turns out.

69. A man went to the hospital with eight plastic horses in his stomach. His condition is stable.

70. To the guy who invented Zero, thanks for nothing!

71. There’s a new type of broom out. It’s sweeping the nation.

72. I tried to draw a circle, but it was pointless.

73. Getting paid to sleep would be my dream job.

74. There’s a fine line between numerator and denominator.

75. Velcro… what a rip-off.

76. I gave away my dead batteries, no charge.

77. One-fifth of people are just too tense.

78. After the birth of your child, your role in life will become apparent.

79. A backwards poet writes inverse.

80. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.

81. My kid swallowed some coins, the doctor told me to just wait. No change yet.

82. My friend’s bakery burned down. Now his business is toast.

83. You should wear glasses while doing math. It improves division.

84. I’m glad I learned sign language. It’s really handy.

85. Bad gardeners are rough around the hedges.

86. A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.

87. This girl thought she recognized me from vegetarian club, but I’ve never met herbivore.

88. Why can’t you explain puns to kleptomaniacs? They always take things literally.

89. Did you hear about the man who lost his left side? He’s all right now.

90. I make apocalypse puns like there’s no tomorrow.

91. A cartoonist was found dead. Details are sketchy.

92. I removed the shell from my racing snail to make it faster. It just got more sluggish.

93. Life as a professional yo-yoer has its ups and downs.

94. I don’t trust stairs. They’re always up to something.

95. My wife told me to stop speaking in numbers. But I didn’t 1 2.

96. I failed my Braille class. It’s a touchy subject.

97. I used to hate facial hair, but it grew on me.

98. The shovel was a ground-breaking invention.

99. My leaf blower doesn’t work, it just sucks.

100. Need an ark? I Noah guy.

101. A plateau is the highest form of flattery.

Suffer

i wish to shit on your computer.