#i mean sure its like a days worth of work maybe two if i get stupid with it but like this will be a BITCH to cut a stencil out for

[pikslasrce]

hubris is thinking ill be able to properly stencil this onto a shirt for a concert that is in TWO WEEKS

[prettieinpink]

BUDGETING + SAVING MONEY FOR TEENS 𐙚

For many of us, we are entering an age when we can work casual jobs such as retail or fast food. It’s not a lot of money that we receive, depending on how often you get paid, but it can go a long way in the long term. 

In this post, I’ll be discussing how to budget for your needs/wants and save money for future goals. 

CREATING GOALS, you may want to save a certain amount of money in a time frame, want to make a big purchase (like a car) or buy everything off your wishlist. It is entirely up to you what your goals are, so I can’t say too much. However, the more specific it is, the better.

HOW MUCH? Determine how much money you need to save to achieve your goal. In total, and monthly. 

There are three types of saving goals that may apply to you;

Short-term goals >1 year (outings, latest gadget, buying your cart)

Medium-term goals 1-2 years (road trips, shopping spree)

Long-term goals 2-4 years (higher education, car)

It’s very important to set a realistic time frame, as teens we don’t get paid much and we also don’t work as much. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself as well, as it takes patience and self-control to achieve these goals.

NO LOOONG-TERM GOALS! This may sound aggressive, but any money that just sits in your account for years on end is dead money. Even though the amount of money is increasing, its value is slowly decreasing. Keep your goals achievable within a time frame of less than four years. It's much more useful if this money is put into some type of investment instead. 

CREATING A BUDGET

Calculate how much money you receive every month, and how much money you spend every month. 

You have two types of expenses. Fixed and variable. Fixed are any expenses required in your day-to-day life or it’s an amount of money that doesn’t change e.g. subscriptions or transportation costs. Variable costs are expenses that may fluctuate, like food, or any other recreational activities. 

Record the average you’re spending monthly with these two categories. 

There are many ways people choose to budget, but you have to choose a system that works for you.

Work out how much money you need to save each month to achieve your goal.

However, for anyone who’s starting in budgeting, I would say to allocate your costs using a percentage system. Your percentages for each category are going to differ from mine; e.g. 60% = savings, 20% = wants, 20% needs. Make sure it reflects the end goal. 

Track your progress. This is the major part of budgeting, you want to be recording and regularly reviewing how much money you’re spending and comparing it to how much you’re earning. It allows for space to reflect on the flow of your money like if some purchases are worth it, if you’re impulsively spending, or if you’re frequently withdrawing money from your savings. 

Adjust if needed. Maybe you want to put more money in savings and less into wants, or you want to put more into wants and less into needs. 

SAVING TIPS

SAY NO! This is probably my biggest struggle at the moment, but say no to things that will cause you to go off track. Whether its outings, getting fast-food or anything similar, say no. You have to be firm with your financial boundaries, as these opportunities will always arise again. 

RESTRICT IMPULSIVE SPENDING. We all have our moments when we see a product and we instantly think ‘I’ve got to have this’. Giving in once or twice is okay, but it shouldn’t become a habit at all. Its unnecessary spending (most of the time!) and leads to buyers remorse. 

IS IT WORTH IT? Always remember to work out which products you’re getting the most value out of. 

PAYING FOR THE NAME, a lot of brands will cut down on quality to save a few dollars, so essentially the customer is only paying for the name of that brand. Just because a store is more expensive, doesn’t mean its better.

[lechrts]

What Are We. ✷ Paul Aron

Pairing: Paul Aron x Friend!reader

Summary: When all signs start to point that maybe you guys are more than friends.

Word Count: 2.1k

Vera’a Voice! Free time for me!!!! Which means I get to write and get down and dirty and grind. (Write.) this blurb is for my bbg Ellis. Hai. Suhhhhh. ok now adding this bit but I already wrote everything so its too late but im giggling bc I just searched and learned estonia is not that much of a warm beachy country oops. Ok Bye. my b. OH WELL.

The long-awaited summer break was something you had looked forward to since the season began. Climbing the ladder as a media intern in motorsports had been tough, but landing your big break in Formula 2 made every late night and early morning worth it.

It was one step closer to your ultimate dream.

Sure, it had been thrilling, but also more stressful than you’d ever imagined. Capturing the perfect shot, fumbling with your camera settings at the worst moments, and racing against deadlines—it was far from easy.

But despite the challenges, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Being young and working as an intern came with its own unique perks too—like getting to know some of the drivers on a personal level.

Not even a year ago would you have ever thought you’d be on a little friend vacation to Estonia with people like Paul Aron or Dino Beganovic and a couple other beloved interns that you had the pleasure of meeting.

And if you told yourself seven months ago you’d be in this scenario, you’d actually laugh.

Paul had been thoughtful enough to organize this entire trip, excited to share the beauty of his homeland with everyone.

Even after traveling halfway across the globe for this sport, Estonia easily ranked as one of the most stunning places you’d ever seen.

It was day two of this unforgettable getaway, and the late afternoon was approaching fast. The group had spent the day soaking up the sun at the beach, swimming in the crystal-clear water, and enjoying the luxurious villa you’d all pitched in to rent for the week.

But now, it was time for something even more special—Paul was finally taking you all to see his true home, where his mother had prepared a dinner that promised to be just as warm and inviting as the country itself.

Dinner in Paul’s family home was as cozy and picturesque as you’d expected. His mom had gone all out, setting the table with traditional Estonian dishes that filled the room with delicious aromas. Paul was effortlessly charming, introducing everyone to his siblings, Anna and Ralf, and making sure no one felt out of place.

You’d always known Paul had this way of making people feel special—it was part of his personality, the charm that came so naturally to him. To you, he’d always just been Paul. Sure, he was flirty sometimes, but that was just who he was, right? Nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The meal was going smoothly until Anna, his sister, casually leaned across the table and asked, “So, how long have you two been together?”

The entire table froze for half a second before erupting into giggles and suppressed laughter.

Your fork clattered against your plate as you nearly choked. “What?” you sputtered, eyes darting to Paul for backup. “We’re not—no, no. We’re not together.”

Anna blinked at you innocently. “Really? You sure? Because I would've thought—”

Ralf snickered, adding fuel to the fire. “Yeah, the way you two act—it’s like, I don’t know, kind of obvious?”

Your face burned, and you glanced at Paul, who had leaned back in his chair with a faint smirk, clearly enjoying your flustered state. He wasn’t rushing to clear anything up either.

What an idiot.

Before you could stammer out another denial, Paul’s mother chimed in, her voice light but curious. “Paul, you never told me you had a girlfriend?"

Your jaw dropped. “I’m not his—”

Paul cut in smoothly, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ema,” he said, addressing his mother, “Don't worry, I would've told you.”

The laughter at the table got even louder. Dino, seated to your right, practically doubled over as he tried (and failed) to keep his drink from spilling. One of the others whispered something that sent him into another fit of giggles.

“Sorry, but this is too good,” Dino said, wiping at his eyes. “You should see your face right now.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a moment, your cheeks blazing. “We’re just friends!” You insisted again, though the way everyone at the table was grinning made it clear no one believed you.

Paul leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Relax,” He said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re making this way more awkward than it needs to be.”

“You’re enjoying this,” You quietly gritted through your teeth back, side-eyeing him.

He shrugged, completely unbothered as he whispered. “A little.”

The laughter slowly died down, but the tension lingered. You tried to focus on your plate, but it was impossible to ignore the flutter in your chest or the way Paul kept sneaking amused glances at you.

It was just Paul, you told yourself. The same Paul who flirted with everyone, who loved teasing you, who couldn’t possibly mean anything by it. But tonight, under the warm glow of the dining room lights, surrounded by his family and friends, the line between teasing and something more felt blurrier than ever.

And the way he winked at you before taking another bite of his food only made that flutter worse.

Soon, the evening had settled in beautifully, the Estonian coastline bathed in hues of amber and violet as the last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon.

After dinner, the group returned to the villa, laughter and chatter filling the spacious living room as everyone settled into their version of post-dinner relaxation. Dino had taken to challenging the others in a card game, while the rest debated over who would make the best DJ for the night.

You had excused yourself after a while, craving a quiet moment away from the lively energy. The villa's balcony called to you, with its perfect view of the shore and the gentle sound of waves rolling against the sand. The cool evening air kissed your skin as you leaned against the railing, letting the salty breeze fill your lungs. The horizon stretched endlessly, the water shimmering under the soft glow of the moon.

For a while, you simply let yourself get lost in the serenity of the moment, your thoughts wandering back to the chaos of dinner. The teasing, the tension, the way Paul’s gaze had lingered on you just a little too long. You shook your head, trying to brush it off as nothing more than his usual antics.

It was just Paul.

Or was it?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door to the balcony slide open until Paul’s voice broke through the quiet.

"Got room for one more?"

You glanced over your shoulder to see him step closer, joining you anyways, his familiar smirk in place. He leaned against the railing beside you, his arm brushing lightly against yours. The touch was subtle, barely there, but it sent a small jolt through you nonetheless.

"You okay?" He asked.

“Just needed a little air.” You glanced at him, half-expecting him to move away, but he didn’t. If anything, he leaned closer, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as if he didn’t notice—or maybe he did.

For a while, the two of you stood in silence, the only sound the distant waves and the occasional rustle of the breeze. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly easy, either. The day’s events had left too much unsaid.

Finally, Paul broke the silence. “You know,” he began, his tone a little hesitant, “I almost planned this trip just for the two of us.”

You turned to him, surprised. “What?”

He gave you a small, self-conscious smile. “Yeah. I wanted it to be just us. I thought it’d be nice to show you where I’m from, spend some time together without… racing being in the way.” He let out a quiet laugh.

“But Dino found out, and he wouldn’t let it happen. Said it’d be too obvious, especially since we aren't, you know…”

“Together?,” You finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Paul nodded, his gaze fixed on the shoreline. “Yeah. And I couldn’t really argue with him.. he said I could've scared you off.”

Your heart was racing now, the implications of his words sinking in. He’d wanted this trip to be just the two of you? You hadn’t even realized he’d thought about you like that.

“You actually planned this for us?” You asked, your voice soft.

He shrugged, his smile a little shy. “I wanted to show you something important to me. I thought maybe it’d mean something more.” He paused, then added with a teasing edge, “But I guess I didn’t do a great job of getting my point across.”

You blinked, the memories of all the lingering glances, the playful teasing, the way he always seemed to find a reason to be near you during race weekends were suddenly flooding your mind.

You’d brushed it off every time, chalking it up to Paul just being Paul.

But now…

“I guess.. I didn’t realize,” You admitted quietly.

Paul chuckled, his arm brushing yours again as he leaned a little closer. “Yeah, I got that impression. You’re not exactly the most perceptive when it comes to certain things.”

You shot him a half-hearted glare, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Oh, come on!" You nudged your arm against his, now even closer than ever.

"Okay, maybe I’m a little oblivious. But in my defense, you flirt with everyone. How was I supposed to know you’re serious?”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “I do flirt a lot. But not like this—not with you.” His voice dropped slightly, the sincerity in his tone making your chest tighten.

“You’re different.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You swallowed hard, your thoughts a jumbled mess of confusion and something that felt dangerously close to hope.

Paul shifted, turning to face you fully now. “Look, I’m just going to say it." He laugh, probably feeling embarrassed it's taken this long to properly ask you.

"I’ve been trying to make it obvious that I’m interested in you, but maybe I’ve been going about it the wrong way.” He let out a breath, his lips quirking into a now nervous smile. “So… what are we? Because I know what I want us to be. I’ve known for a while now. And it sucked having to deny to my family that you're my girlfriend.” He paused.

"And you have no idea how badly I wanted it to be true." He laughed softly again, shaking his head.

“I want this—us—to be something more. I’ve been dropping hints for months, and either you’re really good at ignoring them, or I’m terrible at this.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was and how genuine he was.

“I just… I didn’t think you've ever been serious,” You admitted.

“Well, I am,” He said simply, his voice steady now. “And I don’t want to dance around it anymore. Let me take you on a proper date. Just us. No Dino, no friends, no interruptions.”

You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he was looking at you—open, vulnerable, and completely earnest—made it impossible to say anything but yes.

“Okay,” You said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he let out a breath of relief, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he pulled back. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.”

As the waves crashed softly in the distance, the two of you leaned against the railing once more, shoulders touching. This time, the spark between you wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was a promise of something new, something real—and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

comments , likes , & reblogs are appreciated ! ^_^ kinda fw this one!!!! Ur Welcome Ellis Baef.

tags! @wdcbox @planetpedri @halfwayhearted ofc.

[sweetieviktor]

viktor x lab partner! reader (headcanons + tiny scenarios)

summary: working with viktor and jayce is all fun until you start wishing your lab partner was well.. your partner.

content warning: minor spoilers about season 1, arc 2 and fluff!!

author notes: im sorry for the waiting!! life has been chaotic and im pretty busy doing things but i've managed to finally write down this adorable request yeey! hope you like it :D

» working with the hextech genius and piltover’s golden boy surely wasn't an easy job. high expectations, sleepless nights, doing experiments and calculations all day...

» at first, it was difficult to blend in as part of the group. jayce and viktor had been good friends for a long time now, and being added as a scientist alongside them in their own lab seemed like something experimental, almost incorrect.

» but things soon started to fall into place. and just like two plus one is equal to three, in the late hours was the time you all could be more free, more like your true selves. maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but it finally felt like there was a little place for you after all.

» whenever you needed to breathe a bit of fresh air and they were too focused on some research, you would go out and get them lunch on your way back. when you return to the lab, jayce would welcome you with a side hug and such a big smile that it could possibly blind you, while viktor would thank you with a little nod and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

» on these lunch breaks, it was common for you to talk about anything and everything that came to your minds at the moment. the hextec, politics and the council, how chaotic or abnormally normal life has been, literally whatever.

“i swear, i can't stand councilor hoskel anymore! why does he never listen to me but when mel says the same thing, then he is all ears?” jayce said while running fingers through his hair, smothering the mess to it place again.

“maybe because you can't verbalize things as good as her?” viktor suggested, tilting his head to the side, taking a bite of the cookies you've got for them earlier. “eeh, i mean, she works at the council for quite a time, right? you're still new to it.”

it was true, of course, but there was one thing they didn't consider yet. “or maybe you just ain't a woman!”

“surely a smart remark, i must say.”

“NO!”

» of course there were times where you could be more relaxed, but almost everyday was the same: calculation, experiment, malfunction and all again. it was frustrating, but worth it. after all the failed prototypes and explosions (so many explosions), now it is finally working.

» also, going on all nighters is a common occurrence (but jayce can't work through the night, because in the day time he needs to attend on the council and can't be late, so the boy needs to sleep early) and when this happens, you often go get you and viktor a mug full of coffee and then continue working on whatever you've been up to.

» oh, and the hexcore. magic and science at once. runes and mathematics all together, the almost impossible and so ethereal dream.

» to be able to study it this close was one of the best things that happened to you, to see, understand and manipulate hextech was incredible. the soft blue light it casted on the lab walls was beautiful, but to see it shine against viktor's skin was a delightful sight.

» his disheveled hair, dark circles, cheek bones. all of the shadows in the right places. the shining amber eyes, his nose and, oh, janna, his mole, the one just above his lip. it drives you insane. like it was luring you into locking your lips on his.

“why are you looking?” he asked, still focusing on the source of the light in front of him, molding its runes, the core moving along it. “studying?”

“yes, yes!” your tone more high pitched than you intended to. shit. “just studying the... hexcore.” you tried to remain your voice at a normal level again, inhaling and exhaling to calm down.

pulling his goggles up, he let his head fall back, laughing, “i'm just messing with you,” he looked at you from between half closed lashes, smirking, “good to know you like to study this.”

» the stealing glances, the absolutely profissional soft touches, the desire for something more, something you couldn't quite have. godness, if you could use hextech to solve your love equation, you would. maybe it would be easier to focus on work with a little magic.

» but it was so hard to focus while he kept looking at you like this, calling your name so sweetly, brushing his fingers on yours whenever you handed him something. you were head over heels for him but why does it seemed so hard to just tell him how you felt?

» again, this love equation was a confusing one, but you wished that the cup of sweet milk you left alongside a little sticky-note saying “you + me = date?” for him to find on his workplace was enough to be called a confession.

» now, you were almost ready to head home, but first you needed to look for jayce and update him about the research you've been working on lately.

» and after doing so, you headed towards the academy's lockers, unlocking yours, sending the same sticky-note you left on the lab flying to the pale ground. when you picked it up, you noticed some words written just below yours. “this is an easy one! the answer is yes. so... at the coffee shop near the academy, at 4pm? – v.”

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

10.2 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Bucky invading privacy and getting the wrong idea, then not letting Major get a word in edgewise.

Word Count: 1.4k

Previously On...: You thought the envelope may have come from Rand, but after talking to him, you're pretty sure he didn't send it.

A/N: Sorry for the delay-- was running errands and thought I would be back in time, but then I got held up at a train crossing :P

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He was about fifteen minutes early to pick up Major, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t wait to see her again. He missed her every second he wasn’t near her, talking to her, holding her, just being in her presence. He was down bad for the girl, that was for sure, and he was going to take every extra minute he could get with her.

Opening the main door, he walked into the lobby and waved to Zadie as she was having a group of teenagers sign a waiver before arranging to have them go to a room. 

“Hey, Sergeant Barnes!” she called out to him. “Major’s back in her office if you wanted to go surprise her. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the interruption.” Zadie waggled her eyebrows at the implication, and Bucky stifled a laugh as he made his way back toward the door she’d pointed to.

The door to Major’s office was partially closed, and Bucky knocked, the force of it pushing the door open to reveal the empty office. Bucky stepped inside and, seeing her purse on the edge of her desk, assumed she must have stepped out to use the restroom; he was fifteen minutes early in coming to pick her up, after all. She would have thought she had time.

He used the opportunity to take in her space, the sophisticated office furniture colored in deep, earthy tones that gave Bucky a feeling of calm, similar to what he felt in her presence. He admired some framed medals on the wall from her time in the military, as well as some certificates of accomplishment, and he was pleased to see the orchid he’d bought her resting in a place of pride by the window. 

He ran his fingers over the fuchsia petals, smiling to himself before turning toward her desk.

That was when he saw it. The envelope that had Major so worked up earlier in the day, her name and The WarZone’s Midtown address written in blocky, all caps. He took a step toward it, hand outstretched, but then pulled himself back. No, he thought. He wasn’t going to go through her private work documents. It was none of his business, really.

But… she had been so upset earlier. Maybe there was something he could do to help. He could just take a quick peak; that would totally be fine. He tilted the envelope and a stack of documents and photos came pouring out onto Major’s desk. At first, he couldn’t make sense of what he was looking at, as if the input from his eyes wasn’t making its way to his brain. 

Every piece of paper that had come out of the envelope was about… him. He found himself flipping through the pages, barely allowing the contents to register. They were all photos of him, back when he was still the Asset, committing horrendous crimes. Each document was a report of something he’d done, a person he’d killed. As he flipped through them, his stomach fell through the floor, shame heating his face. Why did she have these? How did she get them?

Had she been looking into him? When she had told him, during their first date, that she would wait for him to tell her about his past when he was ready, had that all been a lie? But why? What would she have to gain from it?

He heard footsteps approaching and in seconds, Major was walking through the door of her office.

“Hey, you!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up in happiness when she saw him standing there. “You’re early! I hope you weren’t waiting too long on me. Just wanted to freshen my face before dinner tonight.” She walked around to where he was standing and draped her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him, but Bucky stood still, only turning his face from hers.

She pulled away from him, her expression concerned. “Bucky, what’s wrong?” 

Without thought, his eyes darted to where the documents and photos lay spread haphazardly across her desk. He watched her gaze turn to follow his line of sight, and he saw her posture seem to deflate. 

“Oh,” she breathed out. “Oh, Bucky, honey– I really didn’t want you to see those.”

“I’m sure,” he spat, and was rewarded when she pulled back from him in surprise. “Wouldn’t do you any good if I knew you were digging into my past, would it? Much better to keep me in the dark about it, right?”

“Bucky, what–” she began, but he interrupted her:

“Was all that talk about wanting to wait until I was comfortable with telling you about my past just a lie? Were you so goddamn curious, you couldn’t even wait to find all the gory details for yourself? You wanna know how many people I killed that didn’t make it into those files, because I promise you, sugar, there’s a hell of a lot. You want to know about the time Hydra sent me to kill an ambassador, told me to leave no witnesses, and I took out his wife and his two kids, too? ‘Cause they couldn’t have been more than ten years old. That kind of thing get you off, doll?”

She took a further step back from him, a look of disgust and confusion on her face, and Bucky suddenly didn’t want to deal with it. “You know what?” he said, stepping around her and walking to the door, “Fuck this.” He stormed out of her office and as he stomped through the lobby, he could hear Major calling after him, but he was beyond caring at this point. 

He slammed through the front doors of The WarZone and back onto the street. Hopping onto his bike, he threw on his helmet and kicked it into gear, speeding away from Major and his past as fast as he could.

* 

He reached upstate in record time; he was fortunate he hadn’t gotten pulled over for speeding. He certainly wouldn’t have taken that very well. He stopped at an intersection– one direction would take him back to the Compound, but the other would lead him into town. He considered his options for a split second before making his decision.

A few minutes later, he was pulling up to the front of a modest, but charming farmhouse. His safe haven for when life at the Compound got to be too much for him to handle, and he needed some peace and quiet to just decompress and be himself. He definitely needed that right now.

Bucky walked up the front path and onto the well-tended porch before giving the front door a series of strong knocks. Stepping back, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacked and waited, his eyes resting on the porch swing he had helped build two summers ago. He should probably check the chain to make sure it didn’t need to be oiled.

The door opened and there was Lily, a balm to his ragged psyche. 

“Jamie,” she breathed, obviously surprised to see him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had dinner plans with Nat’s friend.”

Bucky grunted and poked the toe of his boot at a floor board that stuck out a little higher than its neighbor. “Don’t really want to talk about her right now, Lil,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Lily’s eyes widened as she stepped aside, making room for him to enter. “Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking of ordering some takeout. Are you hungry? I could get some pizzas.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said as he followed Lily into her kitchen, “that sounds good.” He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of one of her kitchen chairs. “Let me pay this time, though, okay? Since you’ll have to order an entire second pizza just for me.”

Lily smiled at him softly as she picked up her phone and navigated to the delivery app. “Obviously,” she told him with a hint of teasing in her voice. “Ham and pineapple on one, pepperoni on the other?” 

Bucky sat down and stretched his arms over his head. “It’s like you read my mind.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Which joestar do you think would be the worst yandere? And why

Pick your poison! I like to think the Joestar’s all have their little traits that shine the most based on their personality (so whose the worst can depend on what you’re uncomfortable with). Going to do just the og verse jojo’s for this 1-6.

Jonathan : Very sweet almost intoxicatingly so, but he tends to end up a bit overprotective/just a bit babying. Insisting he does things for you, if you have some issue somewhere else? Why not let him resolve it. Don’t fret over too much he has the means to take care of you. There might be a time or two your room might be locked if you’re a little more stubborn than usual

Joseph: What is this thing called “personal space” ? It almost sounds like a foreign language to this man. He totally didn’t mess certain things up so you happen to meet up with him. Not sure why your date stood you up? He couldn’t possibly give an answer other than they’re not worth your time since they didn’t bother showing up. He should take you to this great place he loves going to after a long day.

Jotaro: Stalking type usually, and mows past anything that he might feel gets in the way of you and himself. He’s used to punks, so he’s not afraid to pummel someone if they don’t get the message to scram. When it comes to classes, he’s glancing at you every so often, maybe there’s a “doodle” or two in his notebook. Need to walk somewhere? He’ll walk with you. If you’re hiding out to be alone, he ends up finding you. You’re probably the reason he learns any building’s layout in the first place. Clubs or class cleaning doesn’t stop Jotaro either, he’ll wait as long as it takes. Being sick at home doesn’t stop him either, usually there’s some kind of hot soup/dish that’s good to eat while sick sitting in your room somehow. (Not to mention potential kidnapping later down the line if you’re not really cooperating)

Later Parts like 4 and 6, he’s pretty similar in dropping you off things even if you never once told him your address. (He has a decent memory of these things). Similarly Jotaro has any phone numbers you have in his contacts, and he’ll have a talk personally with anyone that he isn’t fond of approaching you. He tends to have you in the back of his mind while out on his studies, or writing a paper, and yet again drawings somewhere he’s compelled to place them. Every so often he checks in on you (whether you want this or not doesn’t matter). Broken down car? It’s either replaced swiftly or he’s driving you places himself. Maybe he somehow (forces) nudges you to live with him.

Josuke : He’s head over heels for you, and similar to Joseph he’s going to take any opportunity to squeeze himself into your life. He just so happens to have some leftover lunch from that place you like? You looked sad when they had sold out of your favorite meal there, so why doesn’t he help with that? Speaking of, maybe your eyes are drifting somewhere else. He steals any potential love letters to a crush and rewrites them, making it look like you’re confessing to him. He may also leave one of your favorite treats you like in its place. It’s an enigma to you how he found that out.

Giorno : He’s the don of the Italian mafia, he’s almost constantly worried about you. So if he has eyes on you, it’s almost immediate you lose autonomy whether born in Italy or a tourist. He’s clever in his ways to trap you, whether you’re resistant or not doesn’t matter. (he does think you’re cute with a strong head on your shoulders). There’s some of that charisma he possess all the same just like his father. Even if it doesn’t work on you, it makes others around you to trap you easily. Giorno likes to think he gives you a lot of leeway with voluntarily coming to him. He’ll meet you casually in coffee shops or wherever you’re willing to shop at. The bill is covered without you having to say a word. Any cash you used is miraculously brought back to you somehow. The blond isn’t afraid to get his hands a little dirty however when it comes to you. If he has to take something for you to step into his arms (whether it’s your ability to walk around outside or someone close to you) he’ll do whatever it takes.

Jolyne : Sure she stalks somewhat, but like her father she can be bold in taking care of the competition. She’s not afraid to hold your hand or finding a way for you two to do so. Eavesdropping is something she does occasionally, and anyone that wants to stomp on your heart is going to get stomped themselves. She does delay you with stone free (or outright captures you) if Jolyne doesn’t want you to leave. It’s impossible to shake her off, no matter what you try to do. Of course she made a copy of your apartment key, what if there’s an emergency? Maybe she wanted to make you breakfast. Huh? What do you mean she can’t just walk in unannounced? Don’t be ridiculous.

[sehunniepotwrites]

WITH YOU | MK.L | THREE

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. profanity, sulky!mark because he failed his exam and lost a game, mention of (non-alcoholic) drinks, mentions of creeper guy that doesn't get a damn hint

WORD COUNT. 1.2k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Mark Lee having a bad day was a rare commodity. The athlete was seldom seen with his brown eyes aimed to the floor and a frown stitched onto his face. No, he was usually spotted with a bright sparkle in his irises, a grin that was way too wide for his small and handsome face, his hockey gear tucked in under his arm, and most importantly, you. 

Maybe that was the stark difference between Mark’s drastic moods. You weren’t present at the home game that just finished. On top of it being midterms week, an ultimate stressor on its own, you skipped out on today’s game in favor of finishing a midterm project with a partner that may or may not have been putting some moves on you. Hearing that news after basically bombing his Biology exam that was worth twenty perfect of his grade just added onto his sullen behavior. Instead of focusing on the game, Mark’s mind was void of the strategized plays and off the ice, floating all the way down to the campus library–where you were.

Mark really shouldn’t be upset. He should’ve been proud that you put your grades first instead of a game. After all, you weren’t a student athlete; this game shouldn’t mean a thing to you.  But it was his game. You were his lucky charm. You always have been and you always will be. 

Sure, others showed up to the games with his number painted onto their cheeks in their university colors and poster boards that displayed his name but they weren’t you. You weren’t the one in the crowd with the pretty, mismatched ribbons in their hair or screaming his name as he scored a goal. You weren’t there, drowning in his away game jersey like you usually were. You were drowning in school work with a guy that would not leave you alone. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I just have to stick it out until the end of the week and it’ll be okay. I notified my professor and we’re meeting up in their office so I’m not left alone with the guy.”

“Yeah but–”

“Go and score a goal for me,” you hushed Mark, pressing a manicured finger to his lips when he tried to push back. “Promise?”

Mark’s frown grew. “But–”

“Ah,” you replied, adding more pressure to his lips. Raising your free hand, you brought your pinky towards him. “Promise?”

Mark sighed in defeat, linking his pinky with yours. He shook your intertwined hands. “Promise.”

Knowing you won, you grinned. “That’s my Marky. Now, go! I’ll see you tomorrow! You’ll be fine without me.”

But he wasn’t. 

And it’s sad how reliant on you Mark became. Before you, he could fully function on his own. Now? Mark was seen with you more often than not. You were like an extension of him, something he couldn’t live without. His teammates and friends noticed it; Haechan wouldn’t let Mark go a day without teasing him on the ice. Johnny, who wasn’t on the team, often made a lot of noise during games to let Mark know exactly where the two of you sat. And Jaehyun, bless his soul, always explained the technicalities of the sport so you understood each and every play-by-play in order to cheer Mark on.

He wasn’t fine before, during, or after the game and all he could think about was you. Nothing else mattered but you. 

To top off this horrible day, they lost the game. There were definitely other factors that contributed to the loss but the most defining one was that Mark’s head wasn’t in it. He tried taking your mind off of you but quickly deemed it impossible. Even after he showered, lugged his sorry ass out of the hockey arena and into his car, his mind was still glued to the thought of you. Driving aimlessly around campus didn’t help and before he knew it, Mark’s hands fiddled with his dashboard screen until your number was dialed.

Two rings later and he heard your voice. “Hey,” you greeted, voice booming from the speakers. Your voice was soft unlike the other times you answered the phone–a lot gentler, like he needed to be approached with caution.

“Hi,” Mark mustered out before going silent again. All the two of you could hear were the sounds on the road.

“What’s going on?” you asked with that same soothing voice. 

You knew what happened. You weren’t there to witness the losing game but word travels fast. Johnny and Jaehyun called you shortly after the game, relaying an abbreviated version of the game while escaping the disappointed crowd. They made it known that Mark was off his game the entire time. Your friends made a light joke, saying it was because you weren’t there, and pointing out how he seemed different whenever you were in attendance. You brushed off their teasing but assured them you would check on your best friend. 

But despite knowing, you wanted the news to come from Mark. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay with you too. You could practically hear him shrugging as he replied, “Dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

Noticing that Mark was so close to shutting down completely, you answered, “Well, I’m always down to see you. Care for a drive, Marky?”

He caught the sound of rustling from your ride and figured you were rushing to get ready before he arrived. The arena was a mere seven minute drive from your housing complex, not giving you much time to get yourself together at all. Prior to him calling, you were most likely nestled up under your comforter, adorning your favorite pair of sweats and oversized hoodie to keep you warm. Mark wanted to say that you didn’t have to change, but knowing his best friend, you’d probably ignore whatever he said. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I’ll see you in a few then,” you said with finality before hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later, Mark pulled up to your complex, only to find you already downstairs. You didn’t come empty handed, the drink tumbler he always used when he was over at your place in one hand and your tumbler in the other. He reached over the console to open the passenger door for you and you immediately slid in, handing him his cup. 

“Hey you,” you smiled at him before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Whereas he caught you off guard the last time you went to the beach, his soft lips grazing against your cheek, it was your turn to surprise him. The action shocked him so much, he almost dropped the steaming drink in hand.

“H-hey,” Mark stuttered a bit pathetically, swiftly turning his attention to his tumbler. Bringing it up to his lips, he tasted his favorite comfort drink–hot cocoa with whip cream and marshmallows. The temperature was a bit too hot, the liquid burning his tongue after having a lick of melted whip cream, but he didn’t dare complain. He took another sip of it before putting it down and shifting the gear to drive. 

The drive itself wasn’t necessary to Mark, he already felt a bit better in your presence as you buckled your seatbelt. 

It’s you—you’re what he needed. You’re what he wanted. And you’re the one person that would always bring a smile to his face. It didn’t feel right to admit it to you now, not when he was just sulking in all of his sorrows. Maybe another time or place. But for now, Mark was content with you in his passenger seat and his hands on the wheel, ready to go anywhere as long as you were at his side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm slowly writing again, starting with finishing all the drafts that have been sitting in my docs for a hot second! my writing style's change a bit so don't mind the stylistic changes (if you even notice it). i apologize it's short but i didn't have much planned for this one. it's just marky sitting in his thoughts.

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @bat-shark-repellant  @bebsky @donutswithjaminthemiddle @suhnnyskhies @baekhyuns-lipchain @emmybyeakitty  @sokkigarden @iwishiwasthemoontonight @stvrrynight @ppangjae @luvenshiti @ferxanda @jenosuh​ @mxrcayong-main @lebrookestore​ @the-universe-in-you-jjh @planetkiimchi @hannie-dul-set @kdyism @lovesuhng

reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

© sehunniepotwrites, 2023

[waldau-archived]

flustered — jeon wonwoo | 1.7k | fluff

first ever work on tumblr for any fandom! yikes. gender neutral reader. no warnings.

people often think wonwoo isn't the kind of person to express himself freely. you know how untrue that accusation is. wonwoo is far from emotionless. only his close friends know what actually makes him crack up, and you're one of the very few who knows what makes him cry.

but you have no idea what makes him blush.

ever since you've been in a relationship, you've never once seen him blush at anything you've said. compliments don't work, not when he accepts them gracefully and carries on like nothing's happened. he doesn't shy away when the band makes him perform silly antics for the fans, opting to do them with the small, ever-present smile on his face.

even mingyu is clueless when you ask him what it is that could possibly make wonwoo blush. teasing him about you never works because it just makes him smile even more.

so you decide to give it a go and try everything you can to make his cheeks turn red. it's silly, but it should be worth the efforts.

wonwoo doesn't like waking up early when he doesn't have to, but when you wake up today morning, his side of the bed is empty. you get up and walk to the living room, careful not to make any noise.

sure enough, wonwoo's sitting on the sofa with his laptop on the coffee table and a notepad and a pen on his lap, occasionally jotting down something here and there. you watch him for a minute or two before you walk up to him and put your arms around his neck, bending down so your lips are right next to his ear. "good morning," you whisper in the most morning-y voice you can muster. you don't think your voice has ever been this low before.

wonwoo doesn't even flinch. he grips your hands with one of his and turns around to press a kiss to your cheek. "good morning, darling," he says, turning to the laptop to pause the video on his screen before he looks at you again. "did you sleep well?"

"till i realized you weren't sleeping beside me, yes."

he chuckles and takes his hand off yours, laying down before raising his arms to you. you've done this a hundred times before — tumbling over the sofa and onto his chest and into his arms, secure.

he presses a kiss to your head. "do you have any plans for today?"

"none, unless you count me wanting to spend the rest of the day with you." you can't see his reaction, but his heartbeat is steady as it always is. you can feel his smile against your head.

"that's what i wanted to do, too, but do you want to go to the museum today? i know you've been wanting to for a while. maybe we could catch a movie after that."

you don't have the heart to say anything but yes. it sounds like the perfect day, even if you didn't achieve your goal.

the next time you try is when you get into an argument.

it's not an argument, not really. just a minor disagreement.

about a certain cat you want as a pet, and it reaches its final stage with wonwoo on his gaming chair and you standing in front of him, hands on your hips. "are you saying you're so heartless that you can't adopt the poor cat?"

"don't twist my words! it's not like i don't want to adopt it."

"that's the impression you're giving right now."

wonwoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i want a cat. and i want it with you. but don't you think it's not fair when i'm not home for a lot of time? i don't want you to raise it all by yourself. what if it doesn't know who i am?"

you stifle a snort. "that's your main concern?"

wonwoo tilts his head. "what else would it be?"

"you're afraid you're going to be an absent dad?"

"is that so bad?"

you let out a laugh. "no. not at all. but does that mean we can get a cat when we move in together?"

wonwoo hesitates. "yes, but i'd rather get it when i don't tour as much, you know?"

you sigh. "you just don't think it's cute enough, do you?"

"what? no! of course not! i was the one who showed it to you, not the other way round."

wonwoo looks cute like this, you think, arguing with you about the tiniest things ever. you hope you'll always argue about stuff like this. without a second thought, you move into his lap and hold his face in your hands, pressing kisses all over it. he lets out a confused noise before holding your waist and letting you do what you want.

"i love you, you know that?" you say earnestly, looking into his eyes.

"i love you too?" he says, frowning slightly.

"you look cute when you're serious. like you're trying to be angry with me, but you're not actually angry. and you also look a bit hot."

he blinks. "are you trying to seduce me into getting you a cat?"

you gasp dramatically. "why would you think that? i mean, what if i was?"

he looks at you for a moment before he chuckles and presses a kiss to your neck. "do you really want it that bad? i'll look into it, i promise."

the third time you try is when you're at the supermarket a few weeks later. wonwoo prefers shopping late at night, especially on friday nights, because there's not many people around.

you don't mind. you like spending late nights out with wonwoo, letting time pass while the night bleeds into day. especially because the day in question is saturday.

you're currently in the dairy products aisle, wonwoo looking at two different brands of tofu and comparing their expiration dates when you suddenly wrap your hands around his waist, pressing yourself to his back. there's no one else around you, and you really hope there's no camera capturing your antics.

wonwoo doesn't budge, simply putting one of the packets back. "i think we'll take this," he says, dropping the remaining one into your basket. "you're going to have to teach me how to make that soup."

you don't respond, still pressed to his back.

wonwoo sets down the basket and tugs you off him, pulling you around so you're facing him.

then he tips your chin up, leans down, and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

you don't know what to say when he pulls away. you can't even tell if it lasted for a few seconds or some minutes. he's worn his nighttime pajamas to the supermarket and he still looks amazing. you know you look like an idiot when he smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you could have just asked for a kiss, you know." then he turns back to look at the other products like he didn't just steal your breath away in the middle of a supermarket close to midnight.

you were trying to get him flustered, but it's not like you're complaining.

it finally happens, but when you're expecting it the least. you and wonwoo have just gotten back from the fair that's been open near your place for the past week, somehow having time off from work on the same day.

you've enjoyed yourself for the first time in weeks, strolling through the place with your hand in wonwoo's, sipping on hot chocolate, letting him win you a mario figurine (he'd wanted to try again to get you a plushie, but you found the figurine infinitely funnier), and just taking a ton of pictures with and of him.

you've also bought a lot of little stuff which has amounted to the two bags currently occupying your hands, which is why you sheepishly ask wonwoo if he can unlock the door.

he takes your keys from your jacket without question and opens the door, letting you in first. you're thinking about whether you should set the bags aside and untie your shoes or risk a little damage by just kicking them off, when wonwoo slides past you in your stupidly little hallway and switches on the lights.

his foot catches with yours and he ends up with his back to the wall, while you trip and turn in a desperate attempt not to fall on your face and break the little jars of various jams you've bought.

you get a little more than what you've bargained for when you stumble forward and land your hands on the wall, one on either side of his chest. you're just thankful neither of you is hurt, but when you look up, wonwoo's face is slowly turning red.

for the first time in the two years you've been together, wonwoo's flustered. you're glad he flipped the lights on, because seeing him with a blush on his face seems almost alien. his vision constantly flits between your face and the spot over your shoulder, unwilling to meet your eyes.

you don't know what to say. "wonwoo. i'll fall if i keep holding on any longer."

"oh," he breathes, "yes. right." he looks at you for a moment, unsure how to maneuver you to stand without making you lose your balance, and settles for his hands around your waist. you manage to stand with his help, putting the bags on the floor carefully before a grin makes its way across your face.

"of all the things i've been trying to do to get you to blush, that's what did it?"

he looks at your eyes and then at the floor. "why would you even try to do that?"

"i've never seen you blush! i had to."

"did you get what you wanted?"

he still isn't meeting your eyes. his glasses are halfway across his nose because of the angle you're at, so you push them up for him. "i didn't even plan for this to happen, you know. but it's definitely what i wanted. and you're pretty," you add, revelling in the redness of his ears.

he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle. "is there any chance you'll let me off the hook anytime soon?"

"as if."

[pigeonwhumps]

Superhero's pet

WoW's birthday event: day 9: aftermath of rescue | sickness | "you're burning up"

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Caretaker's rescued Villain from Superhero from years in his 'care'. But that doesn't mean things are easy, especially when he's still her boss.

The blame for this goes entirely to @echo-goes-mmm.

1.9k

CWs: Villain whump, pet whump, severe self-dehumanisation, past dehumanisation, past animalisation, asking for punishment, past torture

Caretaker prepares for work quickly and silently nowadays. She needs the extra time, because she has someone else to look after now.

Villain. Superhero's former plaything. The test case in the new villain rehabilitation programme.

Or, as they call themself – pet.

They wanted to be called dog. They were called dog. But pet somehow seems like a slight improvement. They use that now, for themself.

They have the same routine every day Caretaker works, and it seems to help. She wakes them up once she's completely ready to leave. She'd gladly leave them asleep, but the one time she tried, they panicked and hurt themself. She hasn't tried since.

She shakes them gently awake. They're asleep on a human-sized pet bed in her room, snuggled under a large blanket until only the tip of their satin bonnet is visible.

They wouldn't take the bed in the spare room, insisting that "pets don't deserve beds," and she wasn't letting them sleep on the carpet. This was the compromise, when she realised even a room to themself was too much.

They wake and push themself immediately to their hands and knees, reaching out to kiss Caretaker's trainers. She takes a step back.

"Hey, buddy. You don't need to do that, remember?"

Villain trembles, forehead dropping to meet the hard carpet. "Your pet is sorry, Mistress. Please punish it."

"Not happening. Come on, get dressed and then it's time for breakfast."

Caretaker turns her back as quickly as possible as Villain starts stripping without a care who's there. She's not sure she wants to know what Superhero did to make them like this.

They won't take off their collar, insisting that it'll make them a "bad dog", but there's no bell any longer and she's working on the tag.

"Your pet is dressed, Mistress."

"Good pet." She hates the term, but they practically glow when she calls them it so maybe it's worth it? "Follow me."

Villain crawls behind Caretaker, settling into a knelt position when they reach the kitchen. She stifles a sigh. They've come on since she brought them home, but there's still a long way to go. The number one priority of which is to get them to eat like a person.

"What would you like to eat this morning, Villain? Crumpets or toast with jam?" They were their two favourites before they vanished, she knows. And they're edible with fingers, which... Caretaker doesn't ever want to watch them eat like an animal again.

"Whatever Mistress desires."

"Well I would desire you to make a decision. It's okay, I won't punish you for it."

Villain pales, visibly trembling again. "May this pet... may it have crumpets, please, Mistress? It understand if it requires a reminder of its position instead, but please show mercy on your pet for following your instructions." Then they cringe away, repeating under their breath in a monotone, "Good dogs don't ask for mercy. Good dogs take what they're given. Good dogs need regular reminders."

"Shh, buddy. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Villain's breath hitches. "Please remind this pet of its place, Mistress. It needs regular reminders, This pet is a bad, bad dog and it needs to learn its place."

Caretaker winces. Why does 'dog' sound so much worse than 'pet'?

"You're not a bad pet. You're very good already. Is that where your scars are from?"

"Some, Mistress. This pet requires maintenance."

Caretaker nods, glad she's already eaten. She sets the dog bowl in front of them. "Eat your breakfast."

Villain obediently lifts a crumpet (and god, at least they're using their hands now) and hunches over it, eating like they'll never be fed again.

For all Caretaker knows, that could be a plausible possibility in their mind. Did Superhero threaten that? Villain is still underfed.

She watches as they polish off their meal. As she has before, she wonders if she's using the right pronouns anymore. Sure, it/its are conditioned into Villain, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't use them. Does it?

"I'm going to work today, Villain. While I'm gone, I'd like you to clean the dishes and look after your goldfish. You can go out on the balcony if you like, but no further outside. I'm sorry, we can't risk it yet. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good pet."

Caretaker bends down and scratches behind their ear, which they lean into eagerly. "Stay safe."

Then she leaves, unable to think of anything else to say.

_

Superhero has asked to see her.

Superhero has asked to see her.

Caretaker would be nervous normally, because now she's finished her training he only ever calls her in when she's failed, but now... what if he's found out about Villain? As a technopath it was simplicity itself hacking into the system to investigate the rehabilitation centre, but what if she left some trace of herself behind? Online, at the centre itself, in her behaviour over the past few weeks... she could've done anything.

As she walks through the building, she passes many people, some of whom smile or call out greetings. She wonders just how many know what Superhero's been doing.

She hadn't. Villain had been missing for two years and god, she was so naïve. Believing Superhero's reassurances (when she dared to ask) that they were being well taken care of, and he'd visited himself, the conditions were completely up to scratch. They should be no worry of Caretaker's now. His terrible lies that make her blood boil.

She knocks on his office door and waits for a response before entering.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

His eyes are ice cold behind his smile. "Yes. I wanted to ask how you're doing."

"Sir?"

"After Villain's escape. I notice your success rate is down recently."

"Oh." She twists her fingers behind her back. Of course she has, she's not arresting anyone else to be hauled off and tortured into Villain's state or worse. "I'm sorry, sir, I've just been worried about Villain." Not a lie. "I'll do better."

"Mm." He steeples his hands together under his chin, watching her steadily with the gaze of the agency's golden boy, and it's in moments like these that she's reminded of how brutal his training was. How unforgiving. "Any idea where he could be?"

Her mind flashes back to a morning during Villain's first week with her, when they'd licked spilt jam off the kitchen floor because "bad dogs don't waste food".

"No, sir."

"Pity. As their nemesis, I expect you to do better."

"I expect you to do better, Caretaker. We'll try again in an hour."

Caretaker shivers. At least she no longer has to be trained by Superhero.

Why did she ever like and trust him?

"Sorry, sir."

"Let me know if you find anything. Dismissed." He flicks a hand towards the door and she exits obediently. You don't argue with Superhero, even if you're not trying to keep a low profile.

Às soon as she's far enough away, she leans against a wall and closes her eyes, breathing hard. She is so, so glad she doesn't regularly carry a knife around with her. Stabbing Superhero 47 times in the chest might be a slight giveaway that she no longer likes him.

_

Caretaker returns home to the smell of chemicals and Villain kneeling on the freshly-cleaned carpet, behind an array of implements. Lighter, matches, fire poker, broom, knife, bleach, rope, salt...

"Villain, what..."

"You have been stressed, Mistress, and this pet is overdue its maintenance. This pet thought that this might help, as it did Master." Then they say somewhat proudly, "This pet used its initiative, as you requested. Has it pleased you, Mistress?"

The pieces finally click and Caretaker stumbles back, hand flying to her mouth, horrified. Villain thought... Caretaker would want to torture them because she was stressed? More than that, they fetched all these torture implements and brought them together in an effort to please her, knowing how they would be used?

"I... put those away, Villain, please. We won't be needing those tonight. And once you're finished go and wait in the living room. I think we need to talk again."

"Yes, Mistress." They pick up the first implement (a hammer) and crawl awkwardly towards the cupboard where the DIY stuff is kept. Caretaker thinks about reminding them they can walk, but they're shaking so much already. It probably wouldn't do any good.

She changes into something more comfortable before turning the kettle on, her own hands shaking. God. It feels like every day she discovers some new, despicable thing Superhero has done. Forget the knives – she could kill him with her bare hands.

She used to just be able to relax after work. Those were the days. But– she can't very well just leave Villain. They're her responsibility, and she's their only option.

Sighing, she carefully carries two cups of chamomile tea into the living room and sets them down on the coffee table. Villain is knelt in what must be the most uncomfortable corner of the room – difficult to find, as the place is tidier than she's ever seen it.

"Will you come and join me on the sofa, please, Villain? Or at least beside the sofa, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

She's sure they'll do that, they always do, and she arranges soft cushions on the hard carpet to make it more comfortable, since the rug doesn't reach far enough. At least she's always had far too many cushions.

She lives in hope that one day they'll feel comfortable enough to start using furniture again.

"So, first things first. Thank you for cleaning the house so thoroughly. It's never been so sparkling. You didn't have to, but I'm very grateful you did. And I'm proud of you for using your initiative, please keep doing so. However, stop bringing me torture implements. That's an order. I'm not going to punish you, Villain, and nobody deserves being hurt by any of that. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. This pet apologises for not letting you choose the method of punishment completely. It will do better in future."

"No, that's not what I–" She cuts off, pinching her brow. She's not going to get them to understand, at least not yet. "Thank you, buddy. Now, why don't we both relax? I'll find us something we'll both like."

"Yes, Mistress."

They settle for an episode of Great British Bake Off in the end. Not that Villain ever comments either way, but they did when they still fought each other and if Villain lied to her about their preferences then that's their own fault.

Villain rests their head on her lap and watches the screen sideways, eyes half-closed. Caretaker rubs small circles into their shoulders.

She feels so incredibly guilty for arresting them in the first place. She's responsible for this, albeit indirectly. The Villain she knew would never have forgiven her.

Speaking of which...

"Why are you never angry with me, Villain? I'm the reason you were tortured for two years."

Villain glances up from under their lashes for just a second.

"Good dogs don't bark."

[blue2jay]

Passive-Aggressive Comments

Summary’s: Your family drops subtle jabs about your career, relationships, or life choices. Leon politely but pointedly defends you, making it clear he won’t tolerate disrespect.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

The dinner table was bustling with conversation, the clinking of cutlery on plates filling the air. You and Leon sat across from each other, surrounded by your family. It had been your idea to bring him along, hoping his presence might make these dinners more bearable. After all, Leon understood you—he worked alongside you, in the same demanding and dangerous field. If anyone could get you through this evening, it was him.

Unfortunately, your family’s usual dismissiveness was already rearing its head.

“So, Y/N,” your father started, slicing his steak with deliberate precision, “still running around doing those field operations? Seems like such a… chaotic way to live. I thought you’d have grown out of that by now.”

You froze mid-bite, your fingers tightening around your fork. You’d heard this before, so many times it was practically rehearsed. Leon noticed immediately, his sharp blue eyes flicking up from his plate to your father, though he said nothing—for now.

“It’s not chaos, Dad,” you replied softly, trying to keep your voice even. “It’s important work.”

Your mother hummed disapprovingly, adding, “Oh, of course you think that. But you’re still out there risking your life, barely home, no stability… Do you really think that’s a career worth keeping long-term? Melissa found something steady. A good office job with benefits. Maybe it’s time you thought about that.”

Leon’s fork hit his plate a little harder than necessary, but he kept his expression neutral as he glanced toward you. You looked down, frustration bubbling in your chest. You loved your job. It was dangerous, sure, but you made a difference, and Leon knew better than anyone what you sacrificed for it.

“It’s not like Y/N’s saving the world or anything,” your brother added with a shrug, laughing under his breath. “Come on, what do you actually do all day? I mean, how much can you really contribute out there?”

Leon set his glass down carefully, the room quieting slightly at the subtle shift in his demeanor. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but you knew better—Leon Kennedy never missed a shot, and this wasn’t going to be any different.

“Actually,” Leon began, his voice polite but carrying an edge of authority, “Y/N contributes more than you could imagine. I’d know—we work in the same field.”

Your mother blinked, her expression faltering. “Oh? I didn’t realize you two were in the same… line of work.”

“That’s right,” Leon replied smoothly, turning his gaze to your brother. “It’s not sitting behind a desk, but what we do out there? It’s life or death. Every single day. And Y/N’s one of the best I’ve ever worked with. I’ve seen her pull people out of situations that most wouldn’t survive.”

He turned toward your father then, his blue eyes sharp but calm. “Chaotic? Sure. But people rely on her. I rely on her. Her choices—her career—save lives, including mine. I don’t think Melissa’s spreadsheets are doing that.”

Your brother gawked, and your mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well,” she started, clearly flustered, “it’s still a lot of risk—”

Leon didn’t let her finish. “Risk? Yeah, there’s risk. But it’s not something just anyone can handle. You’ve raised someone strong, capable, and fearless. Instead of criticizing her, you might want to start being proud of what she does.”

The room went quiet again. You felt your chest tighten, overwhelmed by the quiet confidence in Leon’s voice. He hadn’t raised his tone, hadn’t been rude, but every word hit like a hammer. For the first time in your life, your family didn’t have anything to say back.

Leon turned to you then, his expression softening. “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You don’t need their approval, but you have mine. Always.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, your voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Leon.”

Dinner continued on, quieter now. Your family didn’t say another word about your career, choosing instead to focus on more mundane topics. Leon didn’t gloat or smirk; he simply picked up his fork and continued eating like nothing had happened. But the way his hand found yours under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze, told you everything you needed to know.

When you left the house later that night, walking out into the cold evening air, you turned to him with a smile that was both grateful and full of love. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Leon shrugged, slipping his hand into yours as you walked toward the car. “Yeah, I did. I’m not gonna sit there and let them tear you down when I know how hard you work. You’re better than all of that.”

You stopped, pulling him gently to face you. “I don’t deserve you.”

Leon smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “You deserve everything, Y/N. And I’ll remind you of that as many times as you need.”

As you climbed into the car, you glanced back at the house—at the family who would probably never understand you. But that was okay. Because with Leon by your side, you didn’t need their approval anymore. You had him. And that was more than enough.

[vividraft]

red and black paint ✧˖*°࿐

⇢ ˗ˏˋ artist gn!reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ characters: Gojo Satoru

⇢ ˗ˏˋ summary: you lost the competition that you prepared for all your life, and now nothing seems to be able to help you regain your composure. Almost nothing at least

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: this is too short to be a fic?? but i think its a little long for a drabble...? 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

masterlist

You didn’t call him. You didn’t call him, text him, or left him any sort of message. It wasn’t like you, especially because Gojo knew, today was a special day for you. Maybe special was the wrong word? 

His fingers trembled a little when he called you one last time, without a response whatsoever. His head was shouting at him, to check on you. He tried to ignore it, because you were fine right? He probably just mixed up the time when you were supposed to find out your results of the competition. 

He knew better than to think that way. He had marked it in his calendar, on his phone as well as on his wall, with the exact time. So now that two hours have passed without any response from you, he couldn’t sit there and wait. 

And before he knew it, he was in front of your house, kneeling down to pick up the key he knew you hid under your doormat. 

It was quiet when he entered, until a grunt came from your art room. An angry scream and another one. 

“Y/n?”, he shouted from the moment he entered your hallway. Could you even hear him?

“Y/n”, his feet led him towards your art room. 

Opening the door the smell of paint and old wood hit him, and right before his eyes there were you. You, standing in the middle of disaster, between littered canvas, some empty and some painted. Broken brushes which were tossed around the room, tubes of paint thrown and some of them opened, leaving marks of your anger all across the room. 

Pens and erasers were brushed off your desk in an angry fit, leaving only some paintings untouched. 

And there you stood, in the middle of it, with the painting in your hand that you spend so much time and tears on, to submit it into the probably most important contest of your life. 

You raised your hand, ready to throw the painting, to destroy the work you were now so embarrassed of, feeling stupid that you spent so much time on it, and ready to destroy all proof that you ever tried so hard to be somebody with your art. 

“Y/n!”, Gojo rushed into the room, grabbing your hand before you could do more damage to your work, and wrapping his arms around you. 

You dropped the painting, and simultaneously dropped to your knees, sitting down on the floor with Gojo. 

“‘Toru?”, since when was he here? 

“‘Toru I failed, it all means nothing I don’t-”, your arms wrapped around him, hands clawing at the back of his shirt, one of his hands on your back, and the other on the back of your head, pushing you into the crook of his neck. 

“I have nothing to show- I am nobody-!”, your breathing was getting heavier and tears were now rolling down your cheeks, and in your head you were begging them to stay where they came from. 

You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want to be so weak, and admit that you lost. You wanted to be angry, you wanted to be sure that your art was worth something, and if you cried, it felt like you were disagreeing with yourself. But it was no good. 

“That’s not true y/n, you’re not nobody- you’re-”, all the things you were feeling made his heart clench. Like somebody was cutting it smaller piece by piece. 

“Yes it’s true!”, everytime he said your name it was like he was reminding you that you were you, and you will always be you. You tried to push away from his embrace, but he held onto you. Why were you angry that he was disagreeing with you? 

“I’m not letting you go. I never will” in your current state, you couldn’t understand the promise he was making to always be by your side, no matter who you were. So all you could do was sit there and cry and sob in his arms. 

Until eventually, your eyelids felt so heavy, your sobs quieted down slowly, and your body went limp in Gojos arms. 

He sat there for a minute, ensuring you were asleep for sure, before picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom. He was about to lay down next to you, when his eyes landed on your open laptop. 

“WINNERS OF THIS YEAR'S COMPETITION!”, was written noticeably big across the screen. 

There was a list of people who won, and your name wasn’t to be found. Gojo skimmed it once, then twice, and once again to ensure your name was really not to see. And indeed, you were not on the list. 

He didn’t find it fair, the things you created, with nothing more than a brush and some paint, was better than anything Gojo had ever achieved himself. Every single one of your drawings should be put on show in an art gallery. He didn’t know much about art, but your drawings were as expressive as anything could be, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around how you didn’t win. 

A few months ago while you were still preparing, he told you over and over again that he was sure you would win, and he said that because it was what he genuinely believed. He couldn’t see anything else other than you winning. 

His brows furrowed, and he closed your laptop, before slipping under the covers with you. He wrapped his arms around you, and a shaky sigh escaped your lips.

a/n: part two? this wasnt written with a part two in mind so i gotta get creative, but if enough people want one, ill do it...

[in1-nutshell]

Hey it's me again sorry if I'm overwhelming you with my multiple asks what could you do more old Predacon buddy with maybe just hanging out with the kids and stuff along with they're adopted son aka preking (I hope I'm saying his name right) Just some wholesome fluff and possibly make sure ratchet actually recharges and doesn't stay up all night working including the Optimus and the others old Predacon buddy has those sweet old Southern Grandpa vibes or you could do some old Predacon buddy interacting with Megatron during his glory days or something similar to that whatever you choose I'm not really picky also Make sure not to overwork yourself and make sure to hydrate every now and then and eat something at least healthy =]

They are back!

Caution: Grandparent vibes nearby

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon slice of life

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

It had been a rather busy month on base.

After the latest Decepticon mining activity, all the Autobots were on edge and running around like crazy.

Buddy mainly took care of the humans while everyone was busy on base. They swear if they didn’t have such an eye sore of an alt mode, they would pick up the kids instead of having to remind some of them to do it themselves.

Buddy lumbering around the console behind Bulkhead.

“Bulkhead? What are you still doing here?”--Buddy

“What do you mean?”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead why isn’t Miko here? Is she sick?”--Buddy

“She at school today.”--Bulkhead

“Bulkhead its Saturday. Miko doesn’t have school.”--Buddy

“…”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead transforms quickly and drives out.

Buddy shaking their helm at Ratchet.

“Kids these days.”--Buddy

“You said it.”--Ratchet

“You count too Ratchet.”--Buddy

Ratchet raises an optic at Buddy and vents a bit.

“You may be old by these young bots but don’t forget I’m the eldest here.”--Buddy

“Yet you try to do things a young bot would. It’s not good for your joints.”--Ratchet

Buddy gentle flicks Ratchet in the back of the helm with their tail.

“My frame allows some extra movement.”--Buddy

Buddy stretches their arm.

SQUEAK!

“…”—Buddy and Ratchet

“…Buddy—”--Ratchet

“Not a word Ratchet. Not. A. Word.”--Buddy

Buddy knew that entertaining the kids with stories was only going to go so far. Especially when their guardians could stay with each of the children for long.

It was frankly getting on Buddy’s nerves.

It finally reached their limit when Movie Night came around.

The kids had gotten permission to spend the night at the base.

The original plan was to have a movie night with everyone.

Just some quality time with one another catching up on everything.

But it looked like most of them had forgotten about it.

Buddy didn’t like this. At. All.

And their spark broke a little seeing their disappointed faces.

Buddy looking down at the kids.

“Kids meet me at the exit with the gear.”--Buddy

“The gear?”--Jack

“Yes, you which one I’m talking about. Meet me over by the exit, we’ll have that Movie Night when we are done with it.”--Buddy

Once the kids came with the gear, Buddy knelt and had them climb on using their magnetic seatbelts.

These were almost light the Earth car seats but they were specially designed to be placed on Buddy via magnets.

Nothing was going to peel them away from Buddy until the end of any trip.

As soon as everyone was ready Buddy shot upwards.

Did they scare the kids a bit?

Yes, but it was worth it.

Buddy flying through the night sky.

“You seem pretty fast for an old timer.”--Miko

Buddy huffs a bit.

“This old timer still has a few tricks up their metaphoric sleeve.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Jack

“But you shouldn’t fly too fast, you can pull something.”--Raf

“Buddy.”--Jack

“Oh, my sweet Rafael, I’m spry for my age.”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Jack

“Yes Jack?”--Buddy

Jack points forwards.

“Predaking!”--Jack

Buddy wasn’t too bothered by the sight of Predaking.

But they might have forgotten how the kids didn’t know the other predacon like they had.

Soon the two Predacon’s were flapping their wings circling each other.

The clouds around them slowly formed around them.

Through a series of clicks and roars the two talked.

‘Buddy.’--Predaking

‘Predaking, how are you? It’s been too long.’--Buddy

‘Fine Buddy. How are you faring with the enemy.’--Predaking

Buddy huffing.

‘They are not the enemy of mine, Predaking. I’ve told you before.’--Buddy

Predaking’s turn to huff.

‘There’s a reason you wanted to talk isn’t there?’--Buddy

‘…You know me too well.’--Predaking

‘I would be an awful ‘grandparent’, as the humans say. At least that’s how I remember the saying.’--Buddy

Predaking huffs.

‘I have been considering… leaving the Decepticons.’--Predaking

Buddy raising their optics.

‘You have?’--Buddy

‘Yes.’--Predaking

‘I can put a good word in with the Auto—’--Buddy

‘No. At least… not now…’--Predaking

Buddy nods.

‘You still need time. I understand. Just let me know, okay?’--Buddy

Predaking nods and flies the other way.

Buddy huffs a bit.

“What.”--Jack

“Was.”--Raf

“That!”--Miko

“Oh yeah I forgot you don’t understand the clicks yet.”--Buddy

“Yet?”—Raf

“I will teach you three one day.”—Buddy

“Sick.”—Miko

“What did he want?”--Jack

“He just wanted to talk, nothing more.”--Buddy

They continued their flight before it was time to go back to base.

As Buddy touched down, they could see some of the Autobots come out of the base to see what was going on.

Buddy simply walked inside with the kids still on their back.

Buddy kneeling down so the kids could get down and take the gear off.

“Where were you four?”--Arcee

“Flying around Arcee. It can get stuffy in here.”--Buddy

“You know that someone could have spotted you?”--Arcee

“I am fully aware of that Arcee. I think with one of the largest alt modes here, I’d keep that in mind.”—Buddy

“Then why—"--Arcee

Buddy stands back up to full height.

“I do believe that there was a ‘Movie Night’ that you all needed to attend.”—Buddy

Buddy stretches a bit.

POP!

SQUEAK!

PANG!

“…”—Everyone

“…I’m old, okay. Haven’t you all heard of joints popping?”--Buddy

“Yes, but not like that.”--Bulkhead

Buddy lays down near the projector.

The kids follow with their blankets and pillows.

“Beep boop bop bep? (Do you need to see Ratchet?)”--Bumblebee

“I’m fine. Now let’s watch the movie the children have chosen.”—Buddy

Team Prime give Buddy a side eye, but ultimately gives in.

The Autobots crowd around the projector to watch the movie into the late hours of the night.

Buddy looks around, just happy to have a family together.

[laurefindele-thegolden]

I've seen so many posts the past few days where people are asking if it's worth continuing The Rings of Power or even starting it.

And as someone who hated this show with a burning passion to start with (but then had a complete 180) let me give you a few pointerss

1. STOP COMPARING IT TO PETER JACKSONS WORK!

This is like the key point. They're two separate works of art, by different people. One is focused on specific books as source material, the other is using an overall story as its source material with a few passages or pages from other books. So they have to maybe twist things a bit, add stories to stretch it out. I mean HELL PJ himself did that, removed many things from LOTR changed things up. Like Arwen did fuck all in the books really, but PJ decided to change that and give her things to do. And I don't think I have to delve into the mess that was the Hobbit. What I'm saying is, they're two different works of art, made by different people, set during different ages in ME, and it's different source material.

2. "oh but the inaccuracies!"

This kinda also goes with the above, even Peter Jackson's works have inaccuracies and they had the rights to the whole text. And if it will help you to separate the two maybe view the Rings of Power as a fanfic? Or just a completely different thing, a work of fiction in its own right, ignoring the previous lore.

3. The Hair??!!

Okay sure that was one of the things for me, what do you mean that's Finrod? (To be fair that one sill hurts). However, for the majority of elves Tolkien never specified that all elves have long hair. And second of all, I am not sure if this is true cause I've only seen it mentioned on twitter but allegedly there were wig shortages after the pandemic so the production team got wigs for key characters and asked other actors to grow out their hair. And now they just kinda have to roll with it

4. It's Boring

Okay the first two episodes were also a bit of a slow burn for me but just get through it because it gets better. Also the costumes and cinematography is fantastic in the show. So really it is worth watching especially that S2 is looking to be intense and amazing.

5. Oh but why is this character acting like this?

This goes to part 1, don't compare to Peter Jackson movie characters. I mean even they had their flaws! But this is the second age, these characters are at different points in their lives, dealing with other things that you know in the long run teach them things and in turn could lead to make them become the way they are in the third age. And also if your only knowledge about these characters comes from LOTR maybe it's worth trying to delve into the Silmarillion and other texts about the First Age because it explains a lot

To add to this at the end, don't discredit TROP because it is a great show.

[shoezuki]

i think silvermane guards are very very protective of gepard and they don't even try to hide this like if someone says any shit about gepard they would be like, just instantly go into defensive mode and just shut them up. They definitely dont play about him and every one of them so grateful towards the man who constantly stands tall between the endless enemy and them,even the most old/veteran ones, like he is just like a little fucked up son for them

Actually i was going insane thinking about the relationship between gepard and his comrades THEY ARE JUST A SECOND FAMILY FOR HIM UGGGGGGGHHH

oh my god yes yes absolutely i think bout the silvermane culture n gepards relationships w em So Much like.

i imagine when he first started riding up the ranks, super young and how as landau it was very much just Expected he would become the captain, that silvermanes were much more. sour with him. but hes Genuine. hes a captain that cares bout the guards and the people and he is right there at the frontlines and facing the fragmentum with them. he makes sure they are okay after it all and actually visits the wounded and checks up on them. its a mixture of bonds being forged when your life is on the line together but also just how unwavering and Present that gepard is as a captain in a way that is more than just. being tactical and resourceful. beyond maybe some old retired bastards who resented gepard rising the ranks quickly ahead of them you know the silvermanes LOVE his ass.

i imagine the decorum and concept of ranks that are rigid in the city are somewhat thrown out the window in the restricted zone or outside the city. like gepard ignores when some of the guards smuggle booze to the outposts as long as he gets a shot or two and they play boardgames and card games on rare nights that they arent dog tired (they let gepard win poker still). New guards get the memo quickly on the vibes when the older dudes are like 'yep thats gepard our captain we would all die for him (dont let him hear you say that he doesnt like when we talk like that)' and gepard is all PLEASE dont do that. theres weird superstitions around gepard like if he wakes up and gets out of his tent even a minute past 6am it's going to be a horrible day. gepard is always putting on a strong front and conscious of his guards wellbeing even when he's coked up on sleep deprivation but the guards know when hes not gotten enough sleep and try to coax him into resting. often when theres nothing too pressing theyll ask gepard to spar and try to knock him out literally because thatll work right? but nope even when Gepard has bags under his eyes and looks like shit he clobbers everyone.

its just. silvermanes have often been seen as dispensable and i mean sure they often die young and those that live to get old have their own scars but its worth it to protect the city right? but gepard Does care about the silvermanes too. a lot. he knows them all by name even when they are all wearing the same helmets and are indistinguishable and he often takes part in training new guards even though its technically not his job. the guards all feel the same way for him too yknow

[ganondoodle]

i have seen people talk about how hard it is to draw anything if you have aphantasia (which is good to talk about and true and valid and also intersting to read and this post isnt to devalue that, two things can coexist etc etc)

i personally struggle with the opposite; i have incredible imagination, i'd say it's my best and only "inate talent", (this is not a brag ..) all stories i think about are movies, i can stop them, change camera angle and poses, rotate ever object however i want, place lighting sound and voices, even styles, i switch from ghibli to botw to fortiches style, even into the style of a comic i recently read which wasnt even animated, the only thing that only works half the time is music-

and that all might sound fantastic, but its a mess, it goes too fast and too quickly, things never play out one way, theres interruption, involuntarily sudden changes to other subjects, i feel like struggling to keep an angry horse on one path, it makes me waste HOURS each day just reversing and redoing a scene like im a movie director wizard in my head, theres no ONE finished version, it changes everytime yet i go back over and over again to make it better, i forget most of it within a few hours anyway; even IRL when someone tells me about a memory and they are not sure if i was with them during it once they start to explain trying to make me remember it instead i will imagine it, in the end i wont be sure if i actually remembered or if i just imagined it too real, it scares me how much i forget and cant remember only for my mind to make shit up, makign me doubt my own memory (its weird how it works, i have horrible geographical memory, when i drive somwhere i have known my entire life i need to remember the path to it by imagining driving it, i remember significant things but not the path to them or how they connect or in what order, i have to go through it in my head every single time)

by far the worst part though is that extreme disconnect between whats in my mind and what i can do, just because i can imagine things like that doesnt mean i can draw it (god i WISH), nothing i have ever drawn is how it was in my head, the few things you get to see are the ones i won the fight against myself with to keep going and say 'good enough' at some point the speed is a problem too, the things playing in my head, sometimes even multiple at the same time, play like, again, a movie, whatever im trying to draw is rarely ONE thing, its a whole scene that plays over and over, i want to draw it all but it wont work bc my mind is too fast and i am too slow, it makes me try to skip ahead and get things done as fast as possible, it NEVER works (also too much, theres so many things in my head, i have almost the entirety of the totk rewrite in my head already, novels worth of lore and story for my other projects, its overwhelming how much is in there that i cannot get out and on paper)

its why comics take me so long to make, why detailed paintings are so rare, its the rare times i can force myself to try and tune out my mind and just work on what is in front of me, usually works for a few hours .. if i can manage to reach that sort of focus at all, its why basic sketches of characters are so much easier to do bc i dont have to fight as hard to just draw a character doing nothing- as soon as i want to make it a sketch page of things and scenes the movies are back and are there to haunt me until i cry and give up after hours of trying to keep up with my mind that i will never be able to catch up to (and this is only about drawing .. )

i know skill and speed increase over time, but i wont ever get to where my mind is, its always ahead and trying to skip and jump towards it only makes me stumble and fall flat on my face- maybe its ADHD, maybe its the autism, maybe its the depression, maybe its just me, maybe its just all of that

what im trying to say is, head full, too much thought, too fast, never able to translate it into viewable things in the way and speed as my head works, i explode

[cinewhore]

The Duchess of London (2)

Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, drugs, blood, gore, fighting, guns, fluff. 

A/N: Wrote the first part damn near a year ago! Wanted to finally finish it off. Please know that another part is highly unlikely! No beta. Enjoy! Credits to the gif artist. 

Thomas Shelby ends up on your doorstep three months later. 

Technically, it was the door of the Gentlemen’s Club, Adonis, where you helped to manage the talent and had a few stocks invested in. 

If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed him entirely. Tommy remained seated in the back of the room near the door, one leg crossed over the other, fingers delicately grasping the rim of a glass. It was a talent of his, being able to blend into a room seamlessly while still maintaining a sense of distinctiveness. You couldn’t lie, the thought of seeing him again taunted you day after day. Thinking about his plump lips on yours, hands pressing against your neck- 

A throat clears. “I believe it’s your turn, Duchess.” 

You blink a few times, returning to the present. Sir Donald Chesnut fixes you with a stare, pool stick tapping the floor impatiently. 

Giving him your best innocent smile, you nod and saunter around the table. There were two of his stripes left compared to your four solids. The men who gathered to “watch” all gawked as you bent over the velvet lined table, dress straining against your backside. You’re sure to milk their attention for all its worth, a teeny frown sprawling across your face as you stand back up. 

“Must I repeat the rules of the game for you, miss? See those colored balls? You have to hit them into the holes. Do you understand?” Donald taunts, voice barely masking his mockery. 

You smile and shrug. “Gee, I just can’t seem to decide which one to hit, they’re all so pretty!” 

A few in the audience chuckle at the perceived naivete. Thomas takes a swig of his drink, watching your hands carefully. 

“Let me assist you then.” 

Donald pushes up against you, hands helping to position yours correctly. Upon steading them, you attempt to hit one of your balls but fail to do so. You jerk back into him as you laugh, hands fanning at your cleavage.

“I’m not even sure how I got the other balls in, must be a lady’s luck.” you comment. 

“Sure.” Donald nods, already gearing up for his next shot. He sinks his two remaining balls with ease but misses the eight ball by a hair. 

“Oh! You almost had it. Maybe I can catch up.” 

“Good luck.” Donald tuts, hands grazing your ass as he passes behind you. 

The act drops immediately and you get to work cleaning up the table. The balls clinking against each other before they sink into the pockets fills you with such pleasure you fight hard to maintain your poker face. 

The eight ball lays just a few inches away from the right corner pocket, albeit at an odd angle. If you weren’t careful, it was an easy shot to miss and you didn’t want to give this fucker a chance to win. That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with your prey. 

“Are you gonna call it?” Donald asks. 

“Eight ball, middle right pocket. 

Donald huffs out something that sounded like a mix between a snort and a sigh. “No fuckin’ way. You can’t make that!” 

You don’t take your eyes off of him as you station yourself off center to the ball, cocking the pool stick until the weight of the wood feels comfortable in your hands. Sucking in a small breath, you let the stick slip through your fingers as you exhale. You could feel everyone else in the room hold their own collective breath as the ball pings around the table, making haphazard patterns until it slowly nears the pocket. 

The eight ball all but comes to a complete stop before it finally drops into the pocket, the white ball close behind. You refuse to move, afraid that any sudden shift could cause the other ball to fall in behind it.

The ball edges you as it nears the pocket but you release a sigh of relief as it comes to a halt. You don't dare celebrate openly, just smile and wink at Donald, who was turning more red by the minute. Murmurs fly and papers shuffle as the men protest about their lost money.

Thomas finally approaches you as the others file out of the room, for sure in search of ways to better their bruised egos. 

You don’t pay him any mind as you rack the balls up. 

“You look like a professional.” 

“You can too. Would you like to learn how to play?” 

Tommy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can keep steady hands.” 

You hum in response, eyes shifting up to meet his. “That’s unfortunate.” 

He is quiet as he comes to stand in front of you, hands reaching up to brush against your cheek. “Is there someplace we can talk?” 

You pour Tommy another glass of whiskey before settling on the plush cushions next to him. The office space you acquired wasn’t as glamorous as you’d hoped it’d be but it provided a sense of solace where you could conduct business without hosting unwanted people in your home.

“So, is this a visit for pleasure or business? Perhaps both?” 

Tommy knocks back his drink, throat bobbing as the cool liquor coats his mouth. “Marry me.” 

You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head. “Pardon me?” 

“I need you to marry me.” 

“No,” you hold out a hand to stop him as you notice that he’s reaching into his coat pocket. “Have you gone fucking mad?” 

“I need to form an alliance with the Elephants and this is the best way in.” 

He fixes you with that stare and for a moment you’re sucked into his abyss, thinking about the possibility of becoming Mrs. Thomas Shelby but as quickly as the thought comes, it fades. This wasn’t your fight and you found it hardly fair that you were being used as some sort of pawn. You were familiar with his antics and knew that anyone being used by the Shelby clan typically resulted in death. As it so happens, you were pretty fond of your life at the moment. 

You stand up from your seat abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I can’t marry you, Tommy.” 

“I know it’s not an ideal proposal but you’ll have full control over the wedding details-” 

Stopping mid pace, you turn to face your childhood friend. “What, did the war fuck with your hearing? I said I won’t marry you.” 

Tommy drops his head, reaching back inside his pockets in search of a cigarette. He gets up to lurk near you, admiring the sour look on your face. “Is this how Marcus turned you down, eh?” 

You swallow thickly, resisting to meet his gaze. Of course he knew about Marcus, he knew about everything and then some. The all knowing Shelby’s with their endless amount of dirt, ready to throw it on anyone who stood in their way. 

“I don’t know to whom you are referring.” you lie, terribly so. Tommy could hear the pained yearning in your voice. 

“Marcus Toussaint, old money from the Toussaints of France. Made their fortune from coal. He’s the youngest of four brothers, the only eligible bachelor left. You two met in Egypt, he was financing an archeological dig and you were there on holiday. Nights spent filled with mutual lust and passion, I assume. He buys you an estate in the Mediterranean, where you spend the majority of the summer.” 

Your eyes slip close at the mention of Egypt, a time where you felt you could truly be yourself and not be on guard all the time. Marcus was delicate, thoughtful. He never questioned you about your past and was very encouraging about you wanting to pursue artistic hobbies. He was the one who taught you how to play pool. 

“Unfortunately, your summer was cut short when he was forced to return home and he decided to take you with him. He wanted to make you a part of the family but they knew all about you and decided that a two dollar whore from the slums of Brimingham who made her living spending long nights in the beds of men she did not know was not good enough for Marcus. You try so hard to fit in with that crowd, prancing around in your fancy gowns with your nose held up so high that you still can’t smell the shit on your shoe you’re tracking into their houses.” 

A rage you had learned to smother was bubbling beneath the brim of your being, a feeling you had never thought would be directed toward Tommy. You knew what he was doing, plunging a knife so deep into your heart and twisting until he got what he wanted out of you. It was all a mistake. You have been used over and over all your life. You were not going to be used by him, even if it cost you your life. 

You lick your lips which have since gone dry, forcing your face to return to stone. “It’s always a delight to see you, Mr. Shelby. Travel safely.” 

With that, you turn on your heels and exit the room in silent fury. A pair of observant eyes watch you from the stairs above, then switch to regard the back of Tommy as he leaves a few minutes after you. 

You normally spent most nights at the club but decided it’s worth it to leave and blow steam off at home, your head a jumbled mess. Everything Tommy said was true but what he didn’t know is that Marcus had told you his family made prior preparations for him to marry the daughter of a tycoon and that he had no say in the matter. You were silly enough to believe him. 

You were so caught up in what had just occurred that you hadn’t noticed you were being followed until a hand clamps over your mouth, a black hood shoved over your head. 

Tommy watches absent-mindedly as the young woman slips back into her dress, dancing leisurely to the music coming out of the bar a few blocks down. The window was cracked and she was thankful, having put up with enough of Tommy’s smoking. He was on his third cigarette since they finished fucking and she was sure by the time she actually left, he would have finished half the pack. 

There’s a knock at the door and the woman stops to look at Thomas expectantly. He doesn’t move an inch but jerks his head near the sound. The woman is cautious as she opens it but cracks the door wider when it’s revealed to be a bellhop. 

“Delivery for 317.” 

The woman grabs the silver covered platter and thanks the boy. She smiles as she brings it over to Thomas. 

“Did you order me something special?” 

“No.” 

His bluntness doesn’t deter her, she simply shrugs and searches the vanity for her earrings. Tommy takes the lid off to uncover a note folded in half. 

The Royale. 8pm. 

The hood is snatched off unceremoniously and suddenly you’re in the storage room of a butcher shop, in a chair with your hands tied behind your back. Some of the girls you used to run with when you were younger surround you, with Bobbi aka Big Red at the center. 

You give your best smile. “Ladies, are we starting a sewing circle? Book club? I hear Agatha’s new mystery is to die for.” 

The first punch comes from Janie on your left. You rock your jaw, hands straining against the rope. “I take it that you didn’t like the novel.” 

The second one is from Georgiana. The bitch. To think you were there for her when she found out her husband was screwing her sister. 

After the fourth punch, this one to your gut, you were beginning to get fed up. 

“Alright, does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“You’ve gotten too big for your britches, that’s what.” Big Red finally speaks up. She took over operations when the leader you knew, Mary, got locked up. Operations almost went to shit but you had to hand it to her, Bobbi knew how to run a tight ship. She wasn’t as popular with the women and laid down stricter rules. Several of which you had broken. 

“I don’t have time for riddles, Bobbi.” you chide. 

Bobbi snaps her finger and Georgiana brings a chair over so that Bobbi could sit in front of you. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, missy. When Mary put me in charge, I swore I’d keep her seat warm until she got out.” 

You tsk. “Last I checked, you squeezed your fat ass in her chair.” 

That earned you a hard punch. You needed to dial it back if you wanted to keep your face intact. 

“You’ve been fucking one of the Shelby’s.” Janie purrs, popping her gum obnoxiously. 

“Not just any Shelby, Thomas Shelby.” Georgiana tacks on. 

Big Red makes a motion with her fingers and the clucking chickens get quiet, always obedient for their mother hen. “You know fraternizing with a family like theirs is off limits. Do you know what could happen to us if you were caught with him? We struck a decent deal with Sabini and the last thing I need is for you to jeopardize everything we’ve worked for because you wanted to get your cunt licked.” 

You knew that a few girls were messing around with some men who worked for Sabini but you didn’t realize it had gotten so deep. Outside of Thomas and his boys in Birmingham, Sabini had the next biggest family in the area with a huge control over land. It wasn’t like anyone was stealing from them but nothing hurt men more than a broken heart and bruised ego. 

“Well, since you like spreading your legs for dirty men like Thomas, poppet, you’re gonna do us a huge favor and use that pretty little face of yours to sway him into staying another night in London. Get him to this location,” Bobbi stuffs a slip of paper down your bra. “We’ll handle the rest.”

Big Red puts your cheek tenderly before snapping her fingers. Georgiana and Janie descend on you like vultures and the only sound echoing through the room is muffled grunts of you getting your ass kicked. 

Thomas flips out his pocket watch once more. 

8:22pm. 

It was unlike you to be late but he figured it was for good reasons. Women and their unnecessary grooming. Growing up around Ada and practically being raised by Polly got him used to being late for certain functions. The waiter enters again and Tommy is ready to refuse another offer on refilling his glass but stops once he sees that you’re being escorted in. 

You were mesmerizing. Your body was wrapped in red silk, the material caressing your figure in all the right places. White gloves covered your arms up to your elbows and the front of your dress drapes downward in a cowl design, showing a sufficient amount of cleavage to leave the wandering eye wanting more. To complete your ensemble, you wore a tilted hat with a veil to cover the majority of your face.

Thomas is a gentleman as he stands while you enter, only returning to his seat once you sit on your own. 

“You’re late.” 

You cock an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re still here.” 

As if the waiter was eagerly awaiting for you to take your seat, you barely have time to set down your purse before the first course is brought out. It looked decadent but your stomach was still rolling from earlier. You weren’t sure when your appetite would return. 

Thomas doesn’t touch his food either. “So, I take it you’ve changed your mind.” 

You take a long sip of wine, swishing the red liquid around the glass before knocking the rest of it back. “Something like that.” 

The cigarette makes an appearance. He lights it, waiting for you to continue. 

“Look at us. Both came from nothing and here we are. Eating at the finest restaurants, wearing the finest clothes, sitting at tables that otherwise we would’ve been shooed from. And for what? Money?” 

Thommy nods, almost as if you’d ask a rhetorical question. “Yes. Money, power, control. I’m taking care of my family just like you would take care of yours.” 

“I have no family.” you state, voice a whisper. 

“That’s why I’m asking you to be a part of mine.” 

The door to the private room swings open and the waiter appears, yet again. 

“For fucks sake!” Tommy yells at the poor fellow. 

“My apologies, Mr. Shelby but your other guests have arrived.” 

Tommy steals a quick glance at you. “I don’t have any other guests.”

You don’t dare turn around in your seat as the echo of numerous footsteps sound off, trailing from the hallway until they reach the dining area. 

“Well, well. Looks like the gang's all here.” 

The voice sends a chill down your spine. Amelio Sabini. He wasn’t head honcho but far enough up on the food chain for it to mean something. 

Tommy clears his throat and puts out his cigarette. He doesn’t stand. 

“What? No warm greeting for me or my brothers? Alright then.” 

The vultures descend on the table, squeezing in where they could and kicking their feet up. You recognize some of the women on their arms from the club. 

“Amelio. You’re interrupting my dinner.” 

“Really? Cause if I remember correctly, we were invited. I know you didn’t start eating without me, Tommy. That’s bad business.” 

“What’s bad business is discussing it in front of the women. You lot,” he points to the scantily clad girls. “Out.” 

The girls all cling to their men, throwing each other nervous glances. You envied them just a little. To be pretty and clueless. It wouldn’t get them very far though. 

Amelio gives a signal and they suck their teeth, sulking back out into the main part of the restaurant. You attempt to walk out with them but a goon keeps you firmly in your chair. 

“Where are you heading off to, puddin’? You’re the main dish.” 

“I take it you’re acquainted?” Tommy asks but you hear the condescending tone laced in the question. 

“She’s the one that invited us. Knows the Royale is my favorite. Have you tried the raspberry and chocolate souffle?” Amelio gives a chef's kiss. “Eccellente!” 

The men squabble as you mildly disassociate, understanding that this was going to end in one of two ways: you live or you die. And if you did die, Big Red was gonna get what’s coming to her, that’s for damn sure. 

Your small break from reality is abruptly ended when the cold metal of a pistol is shoved into your hands.

Your hands graze the gun, a once familiar object now feeling foreign.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Amelio coos. “Let’s not draw this out any longer, eh? We all know how this ends. I don’t want to draw this out any further. Va bene?” 

You nod your head slowly, steadying your grip on the weapon. You aim the gun directly at Tommy, unblinking. “Sorry it had to happen this way.” 

Tommy gives a half shrug. “Likewise.” 

You’re quick to pull the trigger and watch as the bullet whizzes by Tommy’s head and glides straight into the neck of the waiter. The platter in his hands falls, the Beretta masked as the “souffle” tumbling to the ground. 

And just like that, the room cascades into a full out battle. Tommy wastes no time in grabbing his own gun and you throw yourself into the heat of action, taking out two more of Amelio’s men before you get clipped in the left arm. You throw yourself down on the ground in search of cover. 

Arthur and the other Blinders crowd in from the kitchen, helping Tommy to clear out the room. Finn is careful as he drags you towards the back door, where a car is waiting. 

“We can’t just leave them there!” you scream through the searing pain. 

“They’ll be fine, trust me!”

Before you could argue your point further, the doors to the car get slammed shut and you’re whisked away from the scene. 

Making it back to a small office Tommy owned was nothing short of a miracle. You had never seen or been a part of such a gunfight. However, it wasn’t the shooting that pissed you off. 

“I know this was your idea.” you murmur, wincing as Tommy pours more alcohol in your wound. 

“I told Big Red to persuade you, didn’t know that meant leaving you with a bruised eye.” Tommy says, double checking to make sure he cleaned the graze thoroughly. 

You shake your head. “She’s got it out for me, apparently. You could’ve just asked-” 

“I did ask you. This was reassurance.” 

You pull away from his touch, a disapproving look etched into your face. “It’s like you don’t even trust me! We’re cut from the same cloth, remember?” 

Tommy puts away the whiskey, reaching around you to grab at the gauze. He wraps it around your arm tenderly. Satisfied with his work, he takes a pack of smokes out of his pocket, tucking one between his lips. 

He saddles up to where you’re perched on his desk, spreading your legs to stand between them.

“I never doubted you once. There were things that needed to be in place and I wanted to make sure it happened.” 

The deep pools of his eyes drag you under and once again, you find yourself pulled into his orbit. No matter how hard your gut alerts you to the dangers of falling in love with Thomas Shelby, you ignore the blaring alarms and steel yourself. He wasn’t like the others, happy to parade you around on their arm like some sort of trophy. You had a mind, a working spirit that was hard to break and a reputation to uphold. You didn’t want to be the dainty, seen but not heard wife. 

You wanted to be his equal. 

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, you take a quick puff from it, exhaling slowly. “I should go.” 

“I’ve arranged for John to take you to the hotel. We didn’t have much time to grab clothing from your place but I can have Pol take you shopping tomorrow, if you’d like.” 

“You got me a room?” 

Tommy chuckles slightly at the question, demeanor unwavering as he takes a small metal item from his pocket, flipping it in-between his fingers like you’ve seen him do many times before with a coin. 

“I got us a suite.” 

You stare at the key, understanding that it signified much more than a cozy night in. Accepting this key and going to see him meant that you were tethering yourself to a man you swore was just casual. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of commitment. 

He pries your hand open, setting the room key in it before closing it gently. Nearly forgetting how to breathe, your eyes flutter close as Tommy seals the deal with a kiss. 

He runs a lone finger down your cheek, his own lips plump with the sheen of your affections. 

“My proposal still stands.” 

Tommy says nothing else as he exits the office, doors groaning in protest at his departure. You open up your hand again. Would you still remain the Duchess or become a Queen?