#no one has ever been nice to me for no reason says bill

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Relationship: Bill Cipher & Stan Pines

Characters: Bill Cipher, Stan Pines

Additional Tags: Blind Bill Cipher, Handyman Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher is Trying, Bill Cipher is Scared, Stan Pines is Trying, Stan Pines is Bad at Feelings, Stan Pines is a Good Person, Not Friends, but maybe not mortal enemies, Trust Issues, Stan Pines being Nice in the most threatening way possible, why are you being nice to me right now, no one has ever been nice to me for no reason says bill, stan provides better treatment than the theraprism, tbh not a high bar, self reflection is for mirrors, projection works both ways

Summary:

Things are actually going pretty ok with the whole Bill-living-slash-working-at-the-Shack thing. Except for one big problem, that's only getting worse... AKA, Bill and Stan make a deal. (blind bill handyman AU)

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[petertingle-yipyip]

SENSES - JOAQUIN TORRES

(will probably change the gif when i can find a better one of him in that suit. also, testing the waters with a new character bc @fallingfavourites basically dared me to. what do we think?)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader // Word Count: 2,840

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple in and out ends up with a lot of blood and admissions.

“The gala’s an easy in.” You reasoned.

“It’s a stupid way in.” Sam shook his head.

“It’s not stupid!”

“We can admit it’s a risk, right?” Bucky tried.

You blew out a sigh and leaned further back in your chair. Sam sat in the chair closest, leaning elbows on the table in thought. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the table across from you with the permanent frown he seemed to point in your direction.

“We need the ledger.” You calmly stated. “I have an invitation to their building. They’ve been inviting my family to their events for years trying to win back my mom’s money. I have the best chance at getting in and out.”

“If we go along with this, you’re not going alone.” Sam continued.

“Course not. I’d never go to an event like that without a date.”

“This is serious, Y/N.” Bucky scolded.

“Well aware, thank you.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going with either of you. My mom would never let me.”

“Your mom’s not here.”

“But these people know my mother. We went to a couple

of these before she got tired of the ass kissing. I had a date each time with a specific image.”

“What kind of image?” Sam asked though Bucky simply groaned in annoyance.

“Pretty boy.” You shrugged.

“Oh.” Sam scoffed. “I’m not pretty enough for you mom?”

“No.” You laughed. “Neither of you are, but…”

“Don’t say it.” Bucky pointed firmly at you. “He’s not going.”

“I don’t like this anymore than you, Barnes.” You snapped. “You really think I want to take him anywhere?”

“What ever happened between you two anyway?” Sam asked so you turned his way with a fierce glare. “Just asking.” His hands went up in surrender.

“He didn’t tell you?” You stared in suspicion.

“For once, the kid wouldn’t talk.” Bucky answered.

“He’s not a kid.”

“You both are.”

“Buck’s right.” Sam chimed in. “You two used to not be able to stop making eyes at each other then suddenly, you’re avoiding each other like the plague.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You pushed yourself to stand. “I’m bringing him, regardless of anyone’s feelings about it.”

“And if he says no?” Bucky asked.

You frowned at the valid question. If Joaquin said no, you didn’t have a backup plan ready. Instead of confessing that, you spun on your heel and headed to find your former flame.

It wasn’t hard. He was at his computers. You stood beside him and leaned against the edge of his desk. It took a minute for him to register that it was you beside him.

“Hey.” He said carefully. You watched his eyes scan your face quickly before he frowned. “Everything good?”

“You have a suit?” You asked.

“Like a… Like a suit suit?” His voice dropped to a hushed tone.

“No.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile. You quickly shook the expression. “Like a nice suit, for going out.”

“Oh… Yeah, I’ve got one somewhere. Why?”

“We’re going to a gala to take a ledger.” You shrugged.

“Why us?” His brows furrowed but you noticed there was no objection.

“My family has an invite and you clean up nice… You can say no.”

“No!” He said quickly and you raised a brow. “I mean… No, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just kinda figured you’d wanna take someone else.” He explained carefully.

“Unfortunately, no one else fits the bill.” You sighed. 

“You never know.” He shrugged slightly. “Might be fun… Kinda like old times, right?”

“We’ll see… Tomorrow night, be ready by five to head to New York.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you, the same damned grin that made your heart beat a little faster.

You had to force your features to remain neutral until you were sure he couldn’t see. You assumed he had seen the flush of your cheeks at the least and you cursed yourself for that.

You hated that you and him didn’t end on necessarily bad terms. You two just couldn’t make it work. Both of you were too focused on other things to truly be present

in your relationship so for all the “moon eyes” Sam swore he saw and the “lost puppy looks” Bucky teased you about, it just hadn’t gone the way you wanted.

But damn it all if you didn’t wish otherwise. Keeping

distance from him was what you thought was best so you both could move on. Your heart, however, didn’t seem to get the memo.

The night of the gala was relatively predictable. Joaquin dawned an all-black ensemble that had you in silent awe when you first saw him. You knew he could dress up when the occasion called for it, but something about the monochrome look hit you hard. You forced yourself

to focus.

Joaquin, however, didn’t hide the way he was blown away by your look. The perfectly tailored gown took his breath away. He couldn’t stop himself from trailing his eyes up and down your figure, tracing the lines of the bodice down to the shape of your hips to that teasingly

high slit in the skirt, which dangerously showed off your legs that looked even longer with the heels you wore.

He didn’t have words for the way the color suited your skin tone, the complimentary tones of your makeup, the delicate pinned style of your hair. He ran a hand over his mouth to hide the smile at the necklace around your throat, the one he had given you for your birthday when you were together.

Sam was waiting with Joaquin and the man let out a long whistle that snapped Joaquin out of his trance.

You laughed slightly before flipping your teammate off.

“Ha ha.” You said sarcastically. “I’ll have you know my mother designed this dress.”

“It’s nice.” Joaquin offered honestly. “You look…” He blew out a breath. “Wow.”

“Thanks.” You nodded slightly, fiddling with the fabric of the skirt. “You look good, too.” You confessed.

He smiled proudly and it was hard not to smile back.

“Alright, alright. Enough of that.” Sam laughed slightly. “Tonight you need to have each others backs, got it? None of this scorned lovers bullshit you pull around here.”

“No one is scorned.” You rolled your eyes. “We’re going to a gala, not infiltrating an enemy stronghold.”

“You kinda are.” Sam countered. “Be quick and be careful. Sooner you guys are back, sooner this is over.”

“Well aware, thank you.” You took hold of Joaquin’s arm and dragged him to the car.

The ride to the event was relatively quiet. The music from the stereo filled the gaps and you were thankful to be driving so you could focus on the road rather than the man in the car with you. Your fingers tapped to the music while Joaquin was playing on his phone.

The gala itself was the same as you remembered. Your arm laced through Joaquin’s, you two fell into an easy stride. You liked the confidence he showed, offering a welcome grin to the people who came to kiss up to you and engaging in conversations when prompted.

“I like this one.” One of the older female investors quietly told you with a sly smile while her husband chatted with Joaquin a few feet away about something you weren’t listening to. “He’s much better than the rest you’ve brought to these things.”

You smiled in agreement and looked over at your date. He waved slightly and you found yourself returning the gesture.

“He’s great.” You agreed, trying unsuccessfully to keep the sadness from your voice.

“Let me guess.” She put a hand over yours. “Mommy doesn’t approve?”

You forced a laugh as if you’d been caught. You hadn’t even considered what your mother would say about Joaquin. She’d probably love him, probably would’ve started dishing out down-payments for your wedding by now.

“My father hated my husband when I brought him home.” The woman laughed. “Destiny used to seem make-believe, but you’re destined for fall. You can’t choose who it is, and neither can your mother.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You nodded in thanks and made it back to Joaquin. You tucked yourself into his side and looked to the man he spoke with. “I hate to be rude, but I’d like to reclaim my date.”

“By all means.” The man gestured for you to go. “He’s a charming young man. Well done, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You nodded in thanks and pulled Joaquin away.

“You know, I think I’m getting the hang of this whole ‘rich people party’ thing.” Joaquin said proudly, tugging the front of his jacket slightly.

“Cool it, Casanova.” You laughed slightly. “We’re not here to network.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. So… Where do we go now?”

You two managed to sneak away relatively quickly. You searched various offices, going up and up in floors until you nearly gave up. It was practically the last office on the last floor when Joaquin found it wedged behind a bookcase.

“I could kiss you!” You said happily.

He flushed immediately, stammering for a real response, and you had to laugh. You hugged the book and went for the exit.

You had only a split second to regret that decision. Not enough time for you to recognize the threat, to register the flash of silver, to reach for your own blade in your corset.

A sharp pain ignited in a long line down your back. The burning sensation wrapped from your back, around your waist and stopped near your belly button. You looked down in shock and saw the split in your gown, the growing stain of blood.

You wobbled on your feet from the explosion of pain and felt a strong pair of arms catch you. A warm piece of fabric was draped over your shoulders and pulled close. The hand that wasn’t locked on the ledger was wrapped around your midsection, trying to keep the blood inside your body.

That sword almost cut you in half.

You didn’t even register he was talking to you until he shook your shoulders.

“Y/N, we need to move. Can you walk?” He asked firmly.

Any hint of the charming, flirty man you masqueraded with was gone. In his place was the battle trained soldier, looking out for his own. He was looking into your eyes, and your heart sank at the worry reflected.

It really was bad.

“You’re not dying here. Understand?” He insisted.

You managed a weak nod and followed him out. He managed to keep you two in the shadows for the most part, avoiding the brunt of the search for you. You had only encountered three men, thankful they didn’t have swords as well, and you used the ledger to knock one of them out while Joaquin managed against the other two.

When you came back to the gala, Joaquin did the talking. He said you two were heading out for a much funner night but you’d sing their praises to your mother. A few name drops and handshakes later, Joaquin was able to get you into the car and begin the drive back.

Maybe an hour into the drive, you began to slip in and out of consciousness.

He reached over and immediately took your hand in his. He gave it a squeeze and your eyes opened a little wider.

“Stay with me, Y/N… C’mon.” He begged.

“We need to… to stop somewhere.” You said between shallow breaths. The bleeding had slowed but you were left exhausted and cold, despite Joaquin’s jacket still over your shoulders, and you had kicked off your heels at some point. You had half a thought to ask if you had bled through it. “We can’t drive… all the… all the way back…  like this.”

“Where are we gonna stop?” His voice was near desperation and you couldn’t stop the pang of guilt.

“Anywhere.” You gritted your teeth as you shifted in the seat. You took as deep a breath as you could manage and rapidly spoke in one long exhale. “First hotel you see. I don’t care the price or the quality or the size. You find us a room and make sure I live through this night.”

He said nothing but squeezed your hand again.

You didn’t know how long it was until you were pulling into a run down roadside hotel. You rummaged through your purse for your credit card and shoved it at him. He promised he’d be quick before locking you in the car.

True to his word, he was at your door with a room key quickly. He practically carried you to the hotel room.

Once the door closed, you all but collapsed. He was quick to catch you, but he wasn’t able to avoid your injury. You cried out at the pain, gripping his shirt sleeve.

He helped you to the bathroom and you needed his help to get the dress off. You didn’t know if it was his hands shaking or your body. The dress fell with a thud, leaving you in short spandex and a bra. Joaquin ran the tap and used one of the towels to clear the blood away. The friction of the rough fabric against the tender skin had you gripping the sink and wincing sharply.

“Shit, Y/N.” He muttered. You glanced up to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“That bad?” You rasped. Your body weight was mostly supported by the countertop.

“Now would be a great time for some special healing ability.” He flicked his attention to you with a nervous smile. “Any chance?”

“No.” You offered the same smile. “My bag in the trunk… It has a kit if you…”

“Hey.” His hands found your hips and turned you around. “Stay with me.”

“Trying…”

“Try harder.”

You nodded quietly, placing a hand on his arm. He looked down at it, smiled to himself, then focused on the slash across your stomach.

“Keep talking.” Your voice was close to a whisper but somehow, Joaquin heard.

“I, uh…” He began nervously. “I used to think you’d come to your senses, but you never did. You left me alone with all these questions… I didn't have answers but I also couldn’t have given you more.”

He squeezed your hip slightly and you made a noise of acknowledgement.

“I guess I accepted that you wouldn’t be mine again but…”

“But?” You croaked.

“I’ll always be yours, Y/N.”

You chuckled slightly as Joaquin’s eyes met yours.

“Tell me that when I’m coherent.” You smiled slightly.

He laughed a bit and nodded. “Let’s dress these wounds and get you something to eat. The guys’ll be pissed if you don’t make it back.”

You hummed in agreement and leaned into him. He guided you to the bed and sat you on the edge before he scurried off. Within five minutes, he was back with your pack on his shoulders and an arm full of vending machine treats.

He shoved an orange juice bottle and packet of pretzels into your hands while he rummaged in your pack. You lifted your arms while he placed, wrapped, and taped the dressing into place. The pain had dulled since you first got the wound or maybe you were used to it. The dizziness was receding slowly thanks to the snack Joaquin brought, which were both empty by the time he finished.

“Thank you.” You dropped the trash to the end table.

“I’m always here for you, Y/N, whether you want it or not.” He put a hand to your cheek for a moment.

“Joaquin, I…” You began, then found yourself lost for words.

There were things you could apologize for. But should you apologize for breaking up with him? For avoiding him? For getting yourself nearly sliced in half?

“We can talk about it later.” He offered kindly. “You feel okay?”

“All things considered, yeah… I’ll make it.”

“Good.” The relief was palpable in his tone. “You should rest now.”

You nodded quietly and shifted back against the flat pillow. The blanket was thin and scratchy, but the exhaustion overruled the quality of the bedding. You were lucid enough, however, to notice Joaquin wasn’t lying down.

“Joaquin?”

“The couch pulls out.” He reasoned.

“You should have the bed.” You began to push yourself up but his hands were gently forcing you back down. “Let me-“

“You almost bled out tonight. I think you deserve the bed.”

You grabbed one of his hands. “We can share. We’ve done it before.”

“You sure?”

“Please?” You pulled your best pout and he broke almost immediately.

He discarded his dress shirt and slacks before climbing into the bed beside you. You rolled to your other side to face him.

“Maybe it’s the near death experience talking…” You said quietly, as if you two were sharing secrets. “But I think I’ve come to my senses.”

“Yeah?” He brushed some loose hairs off your forehead. “Tell me in the morning.”

[oddballwriter]

Calling Them your Husband

Warnings: nothing really 

Author’s Snip: I just wanted to make some tooth-rotting fluff so enjoy

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Steven Grant

When you call him your husband, it was originally a joke, sort of

Your friend called you while you were out doing errands with Steven and they asked what you were doing, to which you said "I'm out with my husband getting stuff done."

Steven just blushes and does that goofy little smile he does because he's never heard you say that but now he wants to hear it all the time now

You guys are in a long committed relationship together and you two have been living together for some time now but he's been too anxious to ask about possibly getting married some day. Not knowing if that's something you want or if you just want to cohabitate as a couple instead

But now that he heard you refer to him as your husband (even if it was a little joke) he wants to marry you in a heartbeat so that you can actually call him your husband and he can call you his wife/husband/spouse

He just thinks about it the whole day but doesn't say anything to see if you will call him that again in case pointing it out will cause you to stop. He is a bit more affectionate though, sneaking in a pick on the cheek or something and secretly making goo-goo eyes at you

When you get home and you aren't in range of seeing it Steven starts looking up engagement rings and prices to see which one would look nice on you and try and save up money

Steven also starts to subtly, at least as subtle as he can be, ask you about if you want to get married someday

He's such a dork though, bless his soul, in his brain he's just kicking his feet and giggling. He's looking at prices for venues and planners already.

Marc Spector

Marc has it in him to get married, we know that

But in his mind he doesn't really see himself as "husband material". He thinks that he's got too much baggage that you'd have to deal with if you were married

He acts like you two haven't been living together and splitting the bills and stuff, which is sometimes what marriage is, in the most domestic way possible

To him, he can't really see himself being able to do the whole marriage thing all over again

That was until some drunk creep was hitting on you while you and him were on a date and you told the guy "I'm with my husband" which warded that guy off

For some reason you calling him your husband while you locked your arm with his just washed those feelings of doubt out. Something about it just made him feel so confident

Like "Yeah I'm their husband! Back off!"

After that Marc was more open with himself about the idea of letting that title back into his life and getting to call you his spouse too

He more so likes the ability to call you his spouse. Possessiveness is in him and by god does getting to call you his spouse feed it

Marc will ask about the idea of marriage sometime after that just to see if you like it

If you want to get married then he's on board. But if you think cohabitating suits you better then he's fine with that too

So long as you're there together and you love him then he's content and happy

Jake Lockley

Damn right he's your husband

Honestly ever since you two got serious with your relationship, became committed to each other, and moved in he's just been like "We are married now" in his head

He's never said that out loud but he knows that the feeling is there with you too

It wasn't until you semi-jokingly called him your husband when some girls were checking him out and you huffed and puffed about it

"What's the matter? I wasn't flirting back." "Well, excuse me for not wanting some giggling college girls to be eyeing up my husband."

And that just... made him feel something, in his heart and in his pants

No but seriously. After that night cohabitating and acting like a married couple wasn't enough. He needs to put a ring on you and vice versa

He will go down to town hall and get those damn papers and buy the rings right now

Jake was originally just going to wait until you said that you wanted to get officially married, but he just can't anymore

In the morning you guys are going to buy rings, get the papers filled out, and planning the wedding

He's got the wedding planner on speed dial and a house with a picket fence in the nice part of town ready to go, just say "I do" please

Honestly at this point he never wants to hear his name come out of your mouth ever again. To you, it's either "hun" "hunny" "dear" or "sweetheart"

Light of his life, air in his lungs, fire in his loins

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[old-lemon-tree]

Drunk headcanons - boys edition

How the gang acts while drunk.

Based on canon scenes and conversations from the game. The rest is just my interpretation of their characters. I also wanted to get silly with these so forgive my indulgence if someone results OOC. That said, keep in mind some of these characters have severe addictions so their entries won’t be as lighthearted as the rest.

Tldr: I was listening to Arthur’s drunk voicelines and went down a rabbit hole. Come with me.

TW: Alcohol and general drunkness / Alcohol abuse and addiction.

Arthur

He gets LOUD. Louder than the rest. During group outings he’s the one who’s constantly shushed. He will apologize profusely for it.

He will be extra friendly towards strangers. In the same way he will flirt on accident and get incredibly bashful as a result.

A brawl?! Fun! :D

Tries to provide words of wisdom Hosea once told him twelve years ago. Loses track of what he was saying halfway. That doesn’t stop him.

Continues under the cut...

Bill

Gets angry-drunk. Actively searches for fights and provokes strangers.

Will desperately seek company and comradely but act a fool the whole time and end up alone.

Dares you to drink “If you are a real man”

Will confess very deep feelings and secrets and generally open up a lot...if only you could understand a single word he’s slurring with his face pressed against the table.

Charles

The one and only time you can see Charles Smith dance.

Sobers up when is needed. How does he go from half-asleep to fighting three guys is a mystery.

Hugging and seeking out physical contact. Always has a hand on someone’s shoulder. Whether to keep them upright or balance himself that’s not clear.

He actually doesn’t enjoy getting drunk all that much. He will pretend to be drunker than he is to match everyone’s energy.

Dutch

Sleepy drunk. He’s the guy who falls asleep in the saloon with his hat over his face.

Will not show signs until is too late. One second he’s perfectly sober doing a speech, the next he can’t string two words together.

When severely drunk he will be quieter. He gets paranoid about saying the wrong thing.

He usually has game. Now he’s trying to flirt by boasting poetry and being a smartass about it. He’s peeved when for some unfathomable reason it doesn’t work.

Hosea

Liable to wander off

If someone catches him before he can disappear he will bring them along to look at this “nice spot” he saw earlier.

He takes his drunk ramblings extremely seriously so you better listen, he’ll test you about it later.

He will let you go on and on about your problems without ever complaining. Is he listening? Probably not. He’s still thinking about that nice spot. He should take you to see it.

Javier

Tries to hide how drunk he is, but his casual walk isn’t fooling anyone. He’s stumbling a lot.

Same goes for his face. No, Javier that is not a tough look, your left eye is drooping.

His flirt game is on point, though. Either that or working girls can smell how easily he gets swayed into tipping more.

Someone asks him to play a song. He enthusiastically agrees. Proceeds to play a completely different song.

John

Gets into laughing fits that last longer than they should and drag everyone along. Often laughs at his own voice if he talks too much.

He will flirt. Badly. Likely in the back of the saloon making an absolute fool of himself. Two braincells power this man.

Either that or he’s outside, burp-talking to his horse and telling them what a good boy/girl they are.

If you buy him a drink he’ll become your best friend for the night.

Kieran

Try to threaten him, and he will laugh. Is it drunken confidence? Has he always been secretly brave? Or is it that he doesn’t get people’s tone when he’s drunk so he thinks you’re joking?

If you’re sick he’s the one coming to check you’re alright.

He gets incredibly competitive if someone challenges him. Sure, I’ll jump in the lake in January, friend.

Tends to reminisce and talk about his sad childhood. Not sure this will woo the ladies, but they do look at him with the pity reserved to a limping dog.

Lenny

Gets dragged into situations™.

In all his youthful goodwill, he will try to be the sober and responsible one. He is, in fact, neither sober nor responsible.

Likes to pull little pranks. Hides the others glass, switches bottles with empty ones, moves the chairs around.

Where did he go?! LENNY!! (he’s probably with Hosea to see that nice spot he saw ea–)

Micah

Doesn’t like to get drunk around people. If he drinks it’s either way too late at night when everyone’s asleep, or when he’s on guard duty, far away from camp.

He’ll be honest with his opinions and won’t be pleasant about it. More so than usual.

Words? What are those? Grammar? Pffff! He talks like a five years old with whiskey breath and a a sailor’s mouth.

Has the worst hangovers. Waking up in the afternoon with cotton in your ears and a vice around your head kind of hangovers. He will whine about it. Incessantly.

Pearson

When he has one too many he gets sad. If you talk to him he will cry while reminiscing about the navy.

Up until that point, though, he’s the happiest you’ve seen him in days. He will join in every song. He knows SO MANY SONGS.

First to wake up the next day. Hangovers? Never heard of’em.

“Drink some water. Have you had any water? Got water, everybody!”

Sean

Has the unofficial title of drinking games official organizer.

First in line to defend his own if anyone starts something. Someone pushed you? He’s in their face before you. Not particularly effective in fights, but has the attitude and energy of a mongoose.

Will sing. Will ask others to sing. Will insult people if they don’t sing.

Tries to keep everyone's energy up even if he’s seconds from passing out. If he’s still standing he’s not drunk enough.

Swanson

Not a happy drunk or a pleasant sight. Probably the only one nobody is happy seeing with a bottle in hand.

He drinks alone most of the times.

Gets paranoid, aggressive, and accusatory when overly drunk, so the gang rarely lets him leave camp.

He will join into song if the energies around the campfire match. He usually gets overdrunk fairly quickly though.

Trelawny

He appears out of nowhere during night outings and buys everyone a drink.

He’s a chill-drunk, not much different from how he is normally, only now he’s slurring and his choice of words is a little less polished.

Impromptu magic show. How does he get better at magic while he’s drunk?!

Mostly keeps to himself but gets overly sentimental with people if they get near.

Uncle

Not different from how he is every other day. He is always drunk.

Although he loves to taunt people he’s rarely mean about it. Unless it’s Micah.

He wants no problem and if anyone starts something that could end up with a brawl he simply walks away.

He can easily predict when anyone’s had one too many and they’re about to throw up. Won’t hold your hair back or nothing, but he will pat your on the back and call you a dumbass.

[cheolhub]

sarrrrrrr🩷 happy bday to cheolhub!!! you are fr one of my favourite accounts on here. i always get so happy seeing ur name pop up on the dash whdjshsjs, i hope you’re doing well & drinking your water & looking after yourself 🫶

coulddddd i possibly req ❛ let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up. ❜ & precious vernon for your event? 🫶

8:01 p.m. – hansol vernon chwe

prompt. “let me come in you, please. i want to fill you up.”

wc. 2k+ 

warnings. unprotected sex for the first time, creampie, saying ‘i love you’ during sex, pet names [baby], a very needy couple ^^!!! — MINORS DNI 18+

note. j u are too sweet im gonna cry !!! thank you thank you thank you !!! i love u sm, i hope u like this >< i’ve been wanting to write vernon a lot recently so i went a little bit overboard with this one,,,, and it’s not my best so i apologize bsgsgs [not proofread, kinda rushed]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash!  ࿐ྂ

hansol vernon chwe has never been one for public displays of affection. any type of affection– kissing, hugging, holding hands, etc. it’s just awkward. it always is and he’d rather keep it to himself. keep you to himself.

and vernon is usually so patient when it comes to his hunger for you. he’s so virtuous and so composed. it’s admirable, really. but there are nights, like this one in particular, where he just wants to sink his teeth into you and mercilessly fuck you into the mattress. 

these nights don’t come by very often. they rarely ever do, honestly. he only thinks tonight is different because he hasn’t touched you in over a week. there was no real reason for it, you just kept missing each other due to your taxing schedules. 

so you planned a date on a night that you knew you were both free. something nice, giving you an excuse to doll yourself up for your boyfriend. 

you did exactly that and vernon’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he picked you up from your apartment. he thought you looked so fucking pretty. you looked so pretty gazing out the window in the passenger seat of his car. you looked so fucking pretty when you kindly laughed at the waiters joke (that wasn’t the slightest bit funny). you look so fucking pretty when you asked him, “are you okay, baby?” 

he wasn’t. how could he be okay when all he wanted was to put his hands on you and inhale the scent of your seductive perfume? how could he be okay when his cock was straining in his pants begging to be inside of you? how the fuck could he be okay when he needed you so fucking bad?  

of course, you could tell he was anything but fine. your boyfriend was stoic sometimes, but he always wears his emotions all over his pretty face. his carnal desire became obvious when he placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing at your flesh. and even more obvious when he pressed a few kisses to your jaw. and then blatantly obvious when he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear and said, “i’d rather eat something else.”

so you ate half your meal, paid the bill, and got the hell out of there because, if you were being completely transparent, you missed the way his cock felt inside of you. you missed tugging at his hair and marking his skin and the messy, messy kisses you always share. you missed him and a week apart from your lover was 5 days way too long. 

he’s already pressing his lips to the back of your neck by the time you get up to your apartment’s door, leaving wet kisses on your scolding hot skin. it’s distracting and your hands keep fumbling the keys, but you eventually get the two of you in. you lock the door and he practically chases you to your room, both of you breathily giggling. 

upon arrival, his hands are grasping and pulling at the clothing on your body in attempts to rip them off while yours do the same with his.

“need you so bad, baby.” he mumbles during his conquest, pulling almost everything off of you. 

when he sees the pretty set underneath your date outfit, he’s left breathless. shocked. and it’s not because he’s never seen you in something this pretty, but it’s that he’s right about to bust a load in his jeans. 

he groans, “fuck, i think i’m gonna cum.” 

“you’re cute.” you smile cheekily, pulling him on the bed with you. “better not be before i get to feel you, though.” 

“i’ll try,” he grunts, his cock twitching and throbbing in what feels like the world’s tightest boxers. 

you lay against your plush pillows, slipping your panties off and throwing them to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air that circulates through your room. you suck in through your teeth, spreading your legs open. “condom?” you ask expectantly.

he furrows his brows. “you don’t have any?”

you crack a grin at the frown that appears on his face when you shake your head. “you’re the one with a dick here! you should always keep one on you for emergencies. this would’ve been the perfect emergency.” 

“baby, we used all my emergency condoms and i forgot to buy more.” he huffs in frustration. “i can just run to the market and grab some. it’s not that big of a deal.” 

it is a big deal. his cock is aching.

you look at him in awe, “you’re that desperate? you’re gonna go all the way to the store and buy condoms, hansol?”

not that you’re any less desperate the way you clench around nothing and ruin the sheets under you.

he deadpans at your subtle teasing, “yes.” 

you hum, stomach twisting in anticipation at a vulgar thought that pops into your head. 

he could… just not use one.

he could fuck you raw and you could feel everything. “what if…” you shudder before you can even get the thought out. “what if we don’t use one?”

you think his face drains of color. “w-what?” he stutters, unsure if he heard you correctly. “baby… what did you say?”

you bite your lip for a second, feeling heat spread like wildfire through your entire body. “we can do it… without the condom. if you want?”

vernon is going to cum– untouched, in fact–  just at the mere thought of it. of-fucking-course he wants to, what kind of idiot would pass that up? (read: someone who isn’t actually an idiot)

“what about…” he trails off as his wide eyes look at your tummy. 

“i started birth control a while ago, baby, don’t worry.” you whisper. “it’s only if you're comfortable… but i’m okay with it… i trust you. and i wanna feel you.”

his heart pounds erratically and he’s tugging his boxers down before he can even form a proper response. his hard, leaky cock slaps against his abdomen and all either of you can think about is how it’ll feel without the latex barrier. 

he breathes out his words, as he presses against your drooling hole. “i’ll pull out.” 

“okay, baby.” you pant, hands already gripping at the sheets in preparation. 

though, you fear there was nothing you could do to prepare for this moment. feeling vernon’s cock— all of it— is amazing. heavenly… hot. you find yourself wishing you would’ve done this a lot earlier. you can’t believe how much of a difference there is.

you feel all the heat, all the veins that trace through his gorgeous cock, all the delicious friction and you’re fucking addicted to it. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” vernon moans, jaw going slack and his face pinching in euphoric pleasure. “baby, fuck, you’re so tight— feels so good.”

vernon has never felt anything so perfect in all his years. he feels your walls flutter around his bare cock as he bottoms out, finally buried deep inside of you. 

you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down to press his mouth against yours. the entirety of the kiss is intense and passionate and you can’t think of a time you’ve felt this close to a man during sex. you can’t even recall a time you were this in love with a man.

you break, whining against his lips and tightly clenching around him. “move, please. need you to move.” 

he nods hotly, pulling his hips back and pushing them back against yours. he does this a few times, slowly thrusting into you until he builds a steady, consistent speed. the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your sweet spot with every shove. you can’t help the cry that bubbles in your chest or the way your legs wrap around his waist tightly.

“hansol,” you mewl, one of your hands snaking between your bodies and rubbing at your clit. “i-i love you.” 

he delivers a sharp thrust upon hearing your words. “i love you more, baby.” he responds with a wavered voice. “i missed you.”

you nod in agreement, clamping around him again, ultimately making vernon hiss. “me more,” you declare on a whine. 

“not a chance.” he grunts out but it falls on deaf ears. his words are practically silenced by the lewd squelching and your cute sounds that bounce off the four walls. 

and it’s all because vernon fucks you like his life depends on it. he feels your walls tightening around him with every thrust but there isn’t a single ounce of vigilance in his body. he wants to memorize every single second of this. burn all of this into his head. he wants to be able to recall the way your blunt fingernails dig into the smooth skin of his shoulders, your moans that sound even prettier in this moment, how your velvety walls flutter and pulse and grip around him as your cunt swallows him up.

his abdomen tightens, balls drawing up as he nears his desired release. before he can warn you, your breathing alarmingly picks up. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your whines and mewls get louder, you trap his cock in a tight grip, refusing to let him go, all the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. 

“vern–vernon, baby,” you gasp, back arching off the bed and heels of your feet digging into his back. “baby, ‘m-m gonna cum. keep fucking me like that,” you plead, eyebrows coming together in gratification. 

he obliges, snapping his hips against yours over and over till the tightrope in your tummy snaps. you come undone choking on a dry sob as your body seizes underneath his. you’re panting unevenly as you go lax, limp body weakly clinging to his as you attempt to come down from your high.

your orgasm is almost too much. too overstimulating for how high strung vernon is. he’s just about ready to explode, but he can’t bear to leave your spasming cunt. 

“baby, i— god, i-i know it’s not safe— fuck—“ he babbles, anxiously panting out his words. “i know… know it’s not safe—but let me cum in you, please. i want to fill you up.” 

you cry, nodding your head and weakly clamping around him at the thought of his warm seed flooding your cunt. “y-yes, fuck yes. please fill me up, ‘sollie!” 

he curses under his breath, his cock twitching and brain fogging over at your permission. he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before he groans noisily, stilling and spilling his cum inside of you. 

he twitches ceaselessly above you as his orgasm washes over him, head digging into the crook of your neck so he can drown out all of his throaty moans. they still echo throughout the room with your whiny pants. 

the sensation of his release has your entire body surging with warmth. it has you feeling nothing but bliss and pure exhilaration— you’re on cloud nine. 

“sorry,” he murmurs into your neck as his body collapses on top of yours. “couldn’t help it.”

your hand comes to thread through his hair, scratching at his head. “‘s okay, ‘sol.”  you mumble back. “felt really good. don’t worry.”

“do you need a plan b?”

you snort, shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so, baby. told you i’m on the pill now.” 

he lets out a breath— probably one of relief— followed by a muffled, “then… can we do this again soon?”

you smile, “yeah, babe, we can do this again soon.” 

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[battingmyeyelashes]

‪‪❤︎‬ HELLO TO THE WEIRD BILL DICKEY ENJOYERS WHO LIKE WHEN HE IS MEAN. this ones for you. youre gonna wanna see this post. Maybe. or maybe not. idk. I need to chat about him right now. specifically like, grown adult & epilogue bill. there may be uhmm..mildly suggestive themes in this post Lol okay. buckle up, its a little long. some people might hate what i have to say. oops! ‪‪if you only like nice subby little bill dickey, this may not be the post for u. ❤︎‬

So, you may have seen my previous post complaining abt people turning bill into a whiny baby, hi, its me again.

I want everyone to look at this picture and understand something.

this is an entire grown man. pathetic as he is in his own special way, have you guys ever been around a grown man?? like, okay, i dont know where YOU guys are, but as an about 5'2" 105-ish pound girl, they are scary. and have you ever seen that one trend on tiktok where these girls ask their boyfriends (who are usually like older teenagers or maybe early 20's idk) to not hold back and tackle/wrestle them or grab them or something?? they do not have to be muscular or particularly athletic. the girls always end up saying something like "okay i didnt realize they were that strong. this trend is freaking me out now." i have also done this myself, yes it is real. it is a sobering experience ._.

men and teenage boys are for some reason gifted this weird natural strength just for having XY chromosomes. there have been actual studies done on this where they put unathletic guys up against very athletic women, and the guys are still able to overpower them. i do not know why, thats just the way we are built. please dont present me with any weird outliers, i will throw up, im just generally speaking.

that being said, i need us to get back into bills personality. i know people like leaning into his patheticness and making him subby and whiny, and as much as i find it kinda "funny heehee" to see on occasion, im trying to ground all of this stuff in reality more. how ironic of me. i know. he is actually a sociopath. with severe anger issues. he is very impulsive and mean. as i said in my previous post, i know jerry beat him up. but

1.) bill was not expecting jerry to start attacking him.

2.) jerry is also a grown man, not a woman.

3.) he ended up getting ganged up on by 3 grown men at the end of it all, i think at that point he has a right to be kinda freaked out lol.

i mean like LOOK AT THIS

i. wanna. see. people. making. him. insane. as. a. grown. man.

he would most definitely use his misogynist grown man strength against a woman for his own gain, lol. i do not recall ever seeing bill being a stuttering blushing shy mess around any girls? correct me if im wrong. i mean, he is a human being, he is bound to have shy or flustered moments, but evan himself has said that if he were confronted by a girl who liked him or something along those lines, he would be hostile, right? i think he would redirect his shy embarrassment into saying something mean. i guess kinda tsundere-ish? i dont know. i think if he even liked the girl back, he would occasionally be hurtful to her as a means to keep her at arms length and protect himself from feeling super vulnerable, and he'd likely enjoy holding things over her head as a way to control her and get her to do whatever he wants (like pervy pics he sneaks of her or like...screenshots of sexting thru email or text and threatening to blackmail her with them LOL idk) i think he CAN be nice sometimes, but i think that needs to be emphasized less.

he likes being in a position of power. we can see that in his little dream sequence thingy, and the way that he gets this kind of megalomania when he is put in charge of the shop.

I dont know if bill KNOWS that he is stronger and capable of overpowering a woman, im guessing he probably does know? i mean he seems to view women as "less than" in every other sense, so.

he has just never had the chance to test the theory out, but can you imagine how it would be if he DID??

imagine him finally getting into a relationship with her, and when she tries to leave him, he grabs her. and it clicks for the both of them.

it wasnt that difficult for him to grab her by the arm and pull her back to him. its not that hard for him to back her into a corner as shes shoving against his chest and hes not moving. i mean like, i think all the guys except for jerry put on some of that extra "nerd manchild" weight so that does not help either (omygosh whatever come punch my lights out for saying that i dont care).

imagine the power trip that would start for him LOL. imagine the possibilities...

does ANYONE see my vision at all?

hes such a mean little rat man wbvehshehsh i wish someone would understand this. and for anyone who thinks this is cringe or wants to ask me if this is a joke, no it is not a joke, i am not allergic to taking myself too seriously. i think this stuff is so much fun ‪‪❤︎‬ i just wanna find my likeminded individuals so we can all have fun & talk about this together ‪‪❤︎‬

EDIT:

i was also just reminded of THIS.

we arent going to sit here and forget about him being buried underneath like huge heavy boxes and being able to get all of them off idk, i guess you could say "muHh maybe they werent heavy" idk if youve ever lifted a box that's densely packed full of something but theyre VERY heavy. maybe just take my word for it lol. just pretty please with a cherry on top go read the replies to the post, u will understand lol ‪‪❤︎‬ 🍒

xoxo. bye bye. end post. reply with thoughts. or dont. whatevaa~

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY WINTER SOLACE SHANA HELL YEAH I MADE IT IN TIME!!! CAN I GET ME SOME TONKS AND PERCY AS A BIRTHDAY TREAT? 👉🏻👈🏻 (My birthday is the 22nd) HAVE AN AWESOME HOLIDAY! 🎄🎄🎄

 Percy is supposed to focusing on these reports that he technically shouldn’t have taken out of the office, but technically Crouch is supposed to be handling these, so.

While his absolute piece of shit apartment usually holds no more appeal than being stuck in the office overnight, it currently has Tonks resting with her head on his thigh “resting her eyes” since she refuses to go to bed before him because she believes in blackmail and manipulation. Which he can’t reasonably say he’s surprised by, considering, but it is a little inconvenient.

His work is important or he wouldn’t be doing it, but if he falls asleep at work the worst that happens is he embarrasses himself. If Tonks goes out on a call without getting proper rest, she could be putting herself in danger. Leveraging her own safety to get him to sleep is underhanded and irresponsible.

She’s going to do exceptionally well working under Shackbolt. He’d plucked her out from the other trainees from the beginning. It has nothing to do with him, but he can’t help the smug furl of pride anyway.

He clears his throat and her eyes flutter open. She has to blink a couple times for them to settle to her natural dark brown, cycling through several shades of blue and yellow. He wonders what she was dreaming about. “Bill has a meeting at Gringott’s on Thursday. He’s going to come by the office after and we’re going to go to the cafeteria to catch up.”

“That sounds nice,” she says, turning to press her face into his stomach and rubbing her nose against his sweater. He makes a mental note to try and talk to the landlord about doing something about the heating system, or at least refreshing the charms himself, but he’s not good enough to make them last long. Maybe Bill wouldn’t mind doing it before he returns to Egypt? “Are you done going through the Russian reports?”

No. Translation charms are imperfect and it takes him forever to parse through and figure out what’s actually being described. If Crouch wasn’t such a dick to them, they’d submit in English. “Do you want to join us? If you can. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

That gets her attention. “Really? I mean, sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve spoke to Bill twice ever. One time he gave me detention.”

His lips twitch. Bill remembers that. “Thank you. He wants to meet my girlfriend. Or re-meet, technically.”

She beams, so pleased whenever he calls her that. She’s been calling herself his girlfriend for a months, but it still makes him warm to see how pleased she is with the title. He’d really though he was just a passing interest, a distraction while she was desk bound, but she’s still here. “Yeah, of course. It’ll be fun!”

He hums in agreement, the sound interrupted midway with a yawn.

“Come on,” she says, pushing herself to her feet then tugging him up after her. “We both need sleep. That’ll all still be there in the morning.”

That’s the problem. But he says, “Alright,” and lets her maneuver him as she likes.

Giving in to Tonks doesn’t sting like it does with other people. It’s always a relief and a pleasure to see her satisfied and happy.

[bangpop91writing]

I decided to expand the drable I wrote earlier as part of this collaboration with @louciferssacrament and make it part of my Grief Is Love Enduring Series.

The Viking

"Alright folks, five minutes, house is open. Twenty dollars goes in, hundred dollars pays out."

"What's the over under?"

"I got six weeks."

"Give me four, on credit. I gotta run to the atm."

"Boy Imma eat your lunch. And you better pay up cause I know the bookie and she's a mad woman. Sal you in?"

"I give him one week tops. Guys from Nebraska."

"Minnesota, actually."

"Whatever. There's New York, there's LA, and in between there's Nebraska."

"Oh Chicago's gonna kick your ass."

"Hey there's a whole lotta little leagues out there but if you ain't the Yankees you just ain't playing baseball."

"Doesn't everyone hate the Yankees?"

"Listen we've had like six captains in two years. We're like the island of misfits toys for retiring brass. Might be nice for somebody to stick around for awhile."

"All I'm saying is the bar burns down, the road needs salting, guys a rock star; fire at the fair, news at 11. LA's gonna look like Mars to this podunk and we're fresh out of training wheels."

"You're also out of half the supplies that should be stocked in this truck.

Briefing in five."

"I've got twenty on the viking."

It's a nice thought. Hen wishes she had the same unending optimism as Chimney does. But no Captain lasts at the 118.

Hen doesn't try to hold back the sobs that pour out of her, tearing out of her chest when the Army Captain comes by to inform her of Bobby's death. She can't catch her breath and she doesn't think it has anything to do with her punctured lung.

She doesn't want to believe it. It can't be true. Bobby can't be gone. He was supposed to out last them all. He'd paid in his twenty, Hen had the crisp hundred dollar bill framed for his retirement gift years ago.

Hen likes Captain Nash, she thinks if anyone could whip their little family of rag tag misfits into shape it's him. But he's a good competent captain who just needs to get his sea legs. Hen puts down $20 on three months. Thats when Captain Swan out of the 122 is retiring so him and his wife can move closer to their daughter in Washington who just had a baby.

The Wilson house is quiet. Too quiet. It has felt that was ever since Karen had brought Hen home from the hospital. Mara didn't have a chance to bond with Bobby the way Denny had.

Hen can't tell if the house it so quiet because everyone who lives there is grieving or if they are tip toeing around her grief.

Hen picked at her dinner the night before as Karen told Denny and Mara it was up to them if they wanted to attend the funeral the following morning. Hen's eyes had been on her plate but she had still seen Denny's trembling bottom lip and the way Mara looked to Denny for guidance.

The wake had been a somber affair. Hen is thankful the 118 weren't asked to stand guard over Bobby's casket. She doesn't know if she could do it. If any of them could. She's thankful to those who had offered.

Captain Ronnie Cooper and Lena Bosko out of the 136. Lucy Donato out of the 217. Captain Sal Deluca out of the 122.

Loosing Sal had been hard, but not as hard as it could have been. It hadn't been sudden. It was gradual. Sal was bonding with his new team and busier than ever with his promotion to the Captain of the 122. It wasn't until years later that Hen realized how sudden it actually was. One day Sal was their defacto leader, he was an intergel part of their band of misfits, and four years later he was a virtual stranger.

The only reason Hen and Karen stay for the full length of the wake is for Athena and the kids. Athena is her best friend. It doesn't matter how badly it hurts, how cracked open her heart is. Hen needs to be here for her best friend. She can't fall apart. Not here, not today, and not tomorrow. She can fall apart later with drinks with her team. When it's all over and she no longer has to be strong because her boys will catch her the way they always have.

The house was light up with natural light, with Denny and Mara's new favorite song playing over the blue tooth speaker as Hen put on her dress blues and Karen fretted over Denny's latest growth spurt and if his dress pants would be long enough. Mara was wearing the yellow sundress she had picked out special for today with a white bow in her hair. Hen laughed helping Karen look for the specific pair of heels she wanted to wear for the Medal Ceremony.

Even though the sun is pouring in through the large windows of the Wilson home, it doesn't feel bright or warm. This time there is no laughter or music while Hen puts on her dress blues. Hen doesn't know how she's held it together this long, but she breaks in Karen's arms, sobbing into her wife's neck.

It's better if she cries here. She can't cry once they arrive at the ceremony.

Losing Tommy has harder than losing Sal. There was nothing gradual about the loss. Tommy was there just as the 118 was becoming a family and then he was gone.

It hurt, but the team, Hen had recovered.

"I'll be honest when Bobby first brought you on board, I said he should just get a Dalmatian instead."

It had taken her and Chimney a minute to warm up to Buck, the loss of Tommy still to fresh. But once he clicks Buck slides into place like he was always supposed to be there.

"Okay that is a beautiful man."

"Where's the lie? And I like girls."

"Don't worry I'll protect you from Buck and his chainsaw."

"There's a chainsaw?"

"…he feels like he lost one family and now he's hyper focused to protect the other one, the 118. He's teaching you to make sure that you're ready. But because he's Buck, he also wants to make sure that you're worthy."

"Hey Chim, I tried getting a hold of your parents but there's a sixteen hour time difference between here and Seoul, so maybe that had something to do with it."

"That's okay. His family is right here."

Hen cant stop thinking about all those defining moments that made the 118 a family, her family.

"That should be our motto. Who cares?"

"That's not a very good motto."

"Well not if you take it out of context."

She never imagined that a funeral would be the thing that brought the 118 back together for the first time. She thought it would be births, graduations, weddings that brought Eddie home again. She never could have imagined it would be Bobby's funeral.

Hen crawls through the small pocket her team had made for her in the rubble. She has Kat holding onto her back and Paisley in front of her leading the way. Hen makes it put the other side covered in dust and debris. She looks into the eyes of her team who had come to rescue her.

"Hey guys." Hen said with a laugh. She had never doubted them.

Hen takes her seat at the front with the rest of the 118 behind Athena, the kids. Bobby's family. She selfishly wishes she didn't have to be a pallbarer, that she could sit with Karen and give into the tears threatening to fall.

Hen hears May's tears, and watches Athena comfort her children. Hen doesn't even want to think of how devastated May must be. Hen knows how much she loves Bobby.

"Cap!" The word rings out like a mantra, like a prayer as the 118 calls for their captain sifting through the rubble of the roof that had come down on him and May with increasing desperation.

The rubble falls away revealing Bobby and May both alive. Even through the sound of moving rumble and the buzz of adrenaline ringing in Hen's ears she can hear Bobby comforting May. She can see her captain using his body as a blanket to protect his child until help arrives. The 118 pulls father and daughter from the rubble and Bobby watches protectively while Hen examines May.

"It is customary and fitting that the final alarm be sounded for our brother, Captain Robert Wade Nash. He has completed his duties, a job well done." Hen takes a deep shuddering Breath as Chief Simpson speaks. She knows what is coming next and she isn't ready. She doesn't know how she will ever be ready. "Uniformed personal please stand." Hen rises especially side by side with her team, her brothers.

"Atten-hut! Present arms." Hen salutes still fighting back tears as the bell rings ten times signaling the end of Bobby's watch.

The 118 flank Bobby and May walking them out of the burnt out remains of metro dispatch, escorting them to safety and to medical care.

It's time for the 118 to escort Bobby to his final resting place.

It wasn't intentional that her, Chimney, and Tommy line one side of Bobby's casket while Buck, Eddie, and Ravi line the other, but it feels like it is. On one side, the team Bobby inherited, on the other side, the one he built. They are the only ones who know the truth though, The 118 wasn't just Bobby's team, they were his family.

The bag pipes fill the air of downtown Los Angeles the way they must fill the hills of Scotland, Hen thinks. This isn't her first funeral. It isn't even her first funeral for a fallen brother.

"We all have our breaking point."

Hen knows they are supposed to be stoic as they guard Bobby for as long as they can. Hen knows she is supposed to be stoic but she couldn't stop the tears even if she tried. She marches side by side with the 118 until their job is done, when it is time Athena, May, and Harry to make the last part of this journey on their own as they take Bobby's home to Minnesota.

"I wasn't asking about work. I already know you did a great job."

Hen and her family return home from the funeral. She doesn't strip out of her dress blues, not yet. She knows she should change, her mom would be there soon to watch the kids so Hen and Karen could join the 118 for drinks at their old haunt.

In their bedroom Hen goes to the top shelf of their closet pulling down a old wood box. Her bookie box. It's empty but Hen opens it anyway staring at the bottom of the box that hasn't been used since they had placed bets on Bobby and Athena's relationship.

Bobby thought Hen should be the next Captain of the 118, but she doesn't even know if she is up for the job. Everything feels so broken without Bobby, she doesn't know how to rebuild a firehouse, but she thinks she knows where to start.

"You know why redwoods grow so high? They move and bend with the wind. If you stay rigid, eventually you'll break."

The tones ring out across the station calling the 118 to action. Buck and Chimney flank their new captain with Ravi and May falling in line behind them as the team follows Captain Henrietta Wilson into the engines, driving out of the station, answering the call to help.

On the wall of the station hangs a large plaque with the LAFD insignia and commemorating the fallen members of the 118. At the very center hangs the portrait of Bobby Nash with a crisp hundred dollar bill behind the glass.

[zaharya]

Straw Hat Pirates as Radiants

I made a presentation about this for power point party on our OnePiece server, and now thanks to seeing @art-in-progressosoup 's post I've been inspired to share it here as well. Please enjoy my take on which Radiant orders I think each of the Straw Hats would be part of and why.

The most obvious one of the lot: Luffy is the Willshaper. His character motivations are entirely built around freedom, and he literally fights oppressive governments at a whim. Not much to say about it really, so moving on.

Zoro is very clearly a Stoneward; his most important character trait is his immense loyalty to Luffy and his crew. He often takes a protector role for the weaker members of the crew, is very firm on his values and ideals, and he's the most competitive one regarding fighting prowess (he literally wants a sports title, essentially).

No, her mirage skill is not the only reason why Nami is a Lightweaver. She's a thief, a con artist; lies are her bread and butter, or they used to be at least, and her relationship to lies and deceit are important to her character arc. The scene at Arlong Park where she finally asks Luffy for help, that's a Truth she spoke! Also, her map making is absolutely artistry and probably needs eidetic memory, so she's got those aspects covered as well.

I considered Lightweaver for Usopp as well since he's a storyteller, but ultimately I feel Elsecaller is a better fit—his dream is literally to reach his highest possible potential by becoming a brave warrior of the sea. His dream can only be reached when he believes it is reached, which pushes him so much further than where most people would set the bar for "brave warrior of the sea", but Usopp has more potential, so he's still going. He's also incredible at encouraging others and tactics, so there's that.

Sanji is a Windrunner, even if current canon Sanji is a terrible one. While Sanji absolutely has the protective urges of a Windrunner, they tend to only apply to women, so I doubt current canon Sanji would make it past the second Ideal. Which is actually why I'd really love a Windrunner arc for him; it'd give him the character development that'd finally make him the amazing character he could be.

This is one of the few picks that has to do with the powers the Radiant order would grant; as a doctor, Chopper is clearly an Edgedancer. He very much keeps the regular people of the world in mind with a desire to help them, which fits wonderfully.

Robin is the most obvious one besides Luffy—she's a quintessential Truthwatcher. Her goal to find the true history of the void century, her scholarly nature, it all just screams Truthwatcher.

Another one I consider fairly obvious; Franky is a Dustbringer. He's a tinkerer, takes things apart to build something new out of the pieces, and he's a literal walking artillery tank. Add to that the thematic aspect of responsibility with the plans for the ancient weapon that he protected for years, then destroyed them at the risk of his own life before allowing the World Government to get them—that's a Dustbringer if I've ever seen one.

Now, I will say that I might've changed my mind about Brook since I initially made this presentation, but I'll share my initial pick first, which is Lightweaver. The reasoning for it is honestly fairly simple; he's an artist. As a musician, he fits the Lightweaver bill just as well as Usopp would as a storyteller or as Nami does as a map maker. Some of his powers also include creating illusions, which was a nice bonus. However, my eyes have recently been opened to the idea of Edgedancer Brook, and I might update this post at some point to add that.

Before you start yelling at me that he's a pirate, just hear me out, okay? Yes, Jimbei is a pirate, yes, he clearly doesn't follow the law—at least not the law of the World Government—but that doesn't mean he can't be a Skybreaker. (We'll ignore that he was a Warlord cause that's not actually my argument for him being a Skybreaker, but he also was a Warlord, which legitimised his actions for years under the law. Anyway.) But he does follow a code, in a way; he follows Luffy. Much like a certain Stormlight character, he chose a person to follow as his code, and he follows it without question. He's a Skybreaker in their best form, a Skybreaker with firm morals who recognises the faults of official codes of law and found other, better codes to honour.

Vivi is a Straw Hat, fight me—and she's a Bondsmith. Now, Bondsmiths as an order are a bit irregular insofar that they're always at least partially circumstantial. Every Bondsmith we know in Stormlight canon becomes one out of necessity, it's always tied to the situation demanding someone to take up that mantle. And that is exactly what Vivi does in Alabasta. There's probably an order that'd fit her equally well if not better personality/character wise, but her choices are what make her a Bondsmith; she chooses to fight for unity and peace for her people, she chooses to take action politically within the World Government and is working to forge more unity there as well. She is Luffy's counterpart, building new, better structures where he tears down the old corrupt ones.

And here we are, the Straw Hats as Knights Radiant!

---

(I do have a bunch of other One Piece characters sorted into Radiant orders, but I don't have nice little slides for them, so I might add them later if I ever make those.)

[dead-heading]

Can you talk more about Warren's power dynamics and degradation kinks?

warren is a lightweight when it comes to getting drunk with power. having control over someone who has no escape from him causes his ability to remain natural and calm present as very unpolished.

if you were to be small or meek enough to catch his attention, something as miniscule as an obedient "yes sir." or a crack in your voice could set him off. he loves feeling like he has authority. he loves seeing someone be so nervous to make eye contact with him, or hold themselves with any confidence. but he's careful. he will do everything he can to hide his interests, and put on his facade of the charming and collected flower salesman.

with florian however, alone in an empty apartment with no one downstairs to hear his captive's sobs after closing hours, florian endures much worse from warren.

he was once victim to the odd and predatory glances warren would give him, the ones that he'd brush off as just him looking too far into things. warren was nice to him, and always had been. no one in this part of town had ever had an issue with warren gardener. so why should he?

but now, florian can't line his old image of warren up to the truth in front of him in the slightest. it's like day and night.

warren will belittle him, either genuinely or mockingly assume florian is just 'too young' to know most things, getting off on the idea that his younger captive can't stand up for himself or fight back physically. florian just got out of college - he barely knows how to cook himself meals, he doesn't understand bills or taxes, he can't even manage his own bank account anymore because he's legally missing. and warren had dropped too many hints of "if you ever were discovered to be alive for some reason, i hope they'll put our graves next to each other." -

that's enough to keep florian quiet. he has trained himself out of whimpering, being vocal about his discomfort, and even fighting back at all, because it's pointless. warren is so much larger than him, all he gets out of him is a deep chuckle and sometimes a satisfied moan with how pathetic florian looks when cornered and traumatized.

"Aw baby, you're much too delicate to handle that butter knife. Let daddy cut these up for you. I know, I know, these grafting spots in your pretty little wrists are gonna hurt for a bit. Let me take care of you real good. I can admit when I went a little overkill - this is an apology. Here comes the airplane~"

"I can't believe you ever got anywhere in life before this with such a feminine waist. How hasn't anyone worse than me just snatched you up and put those hips of yours to actual use? You should be thanking me. You were born be worshipped and tied up all day like a little bonsai. ... i'm serious, say 'thank you, mr. warren.' "

"Oh, you look so much prettier with all these cuts. If you'd just sit still, I wouldn't have to nick at your skin. I don't wanna hurt you, you know that, doll. ... Why do you make me?"

"Look at you, making a mess. Lick it up. Flowers love fluids, act like it."

"Your entitled ex died because he knew you needed me to treat you right. I'll put some discipline in ya. C'mon, let's thank God he was so generous. Down on your knees, kid."

it does not take much for warren to abuse his power. don't agree to go into his back office under any circumstance. stay in the line of sight of other customers.

though, no one could blame you if you didn't suspect a thing before it was too late.

[sweetbottletops]

Who allowed them to grow up?! Now they're going to have to deal with what? Communication issues AND bills?

Go on, go on, just walk away Go on, go on, your choice is made Go on, go on, and disappear Go on, go on away from here... The Cure - In Between Days

ch 107

When serious work needs to be done in the shop the significant others get invited. Not sure if Joe knows something is up, but it's nice to see Aya-chan is automatically included along with Kanna. It's going to take a village at this rate.

So this has been stressing Mitsuki out too, huh. Is that going to be about their relationship, Prom, Hime's house invite? The list is growing.

"Ah...for now, I guess I'll just help out at the store. Why?"

So at that point she wasn't hatching her own plan to invite Aya after all? Maybe she didn't know about Prom at this point.

It is nice to see Hime-chan was being really official with her invitation. Business card and everything. And it's actually nice her dad is just inviting her to a curated event instead of like corning her himself. She can network on her own timeline perhaps.

If Mitsuki had green eyed interest at the time....

...Aya is absolutely irradiated.

It doesn't seem like Aya had overheard all the details about the hallway invitation back then. Just that she didn't get to Mitsuki first for the 25th. I don't think she'd be this good at faking surprise.

Meanwhile Kanna has been quietly starring in her own romcom this whole time. Agu, please write them an omake when everything is is said and done.

It's interesting that Mitsuki is the one who brings up Prom and acting upset to miss it. Maybe you should have asked her to Prom yourself, silly.

I wonder if she's already decided Aya's the one so she skipped a few mental steps (that Aya needs) to make that clear they are a forever pair. Even if Aya backed out of asking there was no reason Mitsuki couldn't have just asked herself.

Joe recognized Aloud Records immediately. Must be big time then.

"But, it's on the 25th..." OMG MITSUKI. Did she really think it went without saying that they'd just be going to Prom? Without ever asking Aya?

"Who cares?! What Prom." Yup. Aya has killed her emotions dead already.

She is not going to do anything to impose on Mitsuki. She was really close to it last chapter, but from her POV she already missed her last chance. Now she's just going to be a cheerful supporter. Nobody can take being her first fan away from her. And good fans don't get in the way of the rise of their oshi.

Liar. She spared no thought to her family when she saw that Prom poster. She's going to go home that night and have a private meltdown. It's in her schedule at this point.

Look at Aya go! Best fan anyone could ever want. Not over compensating at all. Everything is FINE. Just like with their failed game of catch.

Dang, they are looking older in the face now.

"I guess this means we made up..." - Mitsuki Koga

No, it means she's given up on her romantic feelings in order to at least have this much.

And spare a thought for Narita. He'll possibly fail his tests because he spent his time setting up a Prom for these two idiots. Neither of which will be attending as it stands now. A true Olympian of yuri enjoyers.

Since I missed their faces and need the pick-me-up here's some Joe/Kanna (Joanna? JoKa?). At least things seem to be turning around for Joe a bit.

[sonderfairy]

So Chapter 150 is twice the length as a usual chapter because that’s been my tradition for the multiples of 50 (chapters 50 and 100 were the same), along with being a very important scene in the story.

Well that last part isn’t relevant to this post; basically, ever since I finished making that chapter, the pain in my wrists (that used to come and go) flared up and hasn’t gone away.

It was really bad for a few days and I couldn’t draw much at all. But over the past few weeks, the pain has appeared in different areas of my wrists. First it was the outside of both hands, then my right hand it’s been on the inside, and now has moved to both my thumb and below my pinkie. I still can’t put weight on my hands while bending them backwards for too long or it’ll get worse again.

I made a short comment about this in the authors notes of 149 (which goes up tmrw), but I’m going into more detail here ig to explain further.

More below.

I’ve already been using wrist braces, and now have compression gloves, which have been helping so far. I’m trying to be as careful as possible and not draw for too long at a time.

But ultimately, I’m trying to reduce the time it takes to draw chapters without sacrificing the art style too much. My lineartist has been a big help with this, so it pretty much comes down to my coloring and background work.

I want to deliver this story in a way that is still just as meaningful, and not feel cheap or rushed, but I also can’t afford to take a hiatus until season 1 ends later this year.

When planning the composition of panels, I’ll plan it so I can reuse old backgrounds as much as possible. The shading will also gradually get a bit more simplified—which has already been happening, but in a good way! It’s feeling a lot more crisp now.

Anyway I’m not really sure where I was going with this. If I had to end this with some kind of message, I’d say two things:

To aspiring comic artists: make sure whatever art style you use for your comic doesn’t have you drawing for 5+ hours in one sitting multiple days in a row. It won’t hurt at first, but over time it will. There’s no avoiding it. It’s just a matter of how long you can keep it up until it ultimately does.

To readers that understand how much work we do: the best messages of support are not the ones telling us we can take a break. While this is nice for those who only make comics as a hobby, it doesn’t really mean anything when it’s our job and pays our bills. In those cases, we can’t put it aside or take a break whenever we want. So instead, the best messages of support (at least for me) are ones that express appreciation for the comic/work, what you like about it, details you noticed, how much it means to you, etc.

Those sort of comments are the biggest reason I love creating and sharing TMP, and fuel my motivation to keep going. I love hearing how a character made someone smile, (or cry), or how they relate to something in the story.

So yeah, keep that shit up. While having wrist pain sucks ass, it’s worth it when I see how much joy my work adds to people’s lives.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

do you have heretical thoughts on mudugnus fletcher? i never understood the point of his character.

I do have heretical thoughts about pointless characters.

Name Me a Character Who Has a Fucking Purpose in Harry Potter

Singling out Mundungus is kind of weird when we have equally pointless (yet sometimes treated as extremely important) characters who have either negligible influence on the plot or could have been replaced easily by someone else.

What's the point of Fred and George? In the story they only act as a) funny b) Deus ex Machina on several notable occasions c) Weasley brothers d) a tragic death we can all cry about (where it doesn't even fucking matter which one kicked it.)

Take a look at Charlie, he's even worse, we barely see him to the point where his personality is... earring? Or Bill for that matter, yes he gets to marry Fleur and get mauled by werewolf and work in Gringotts but... does he have any personality?

Does Ginny have any point besides "hot validation girlfriend" for Harry? (I'm not saying that wouldn't be nice, I'm asking if she was written in such a way that she does, because we see her in book two having to be rescued and then... she sort of shows up in book six for a few chapters to be Harry's girlfriend only to be broken up with immediately).

Honestly, I could even point to Ron and Hermione. Do they ever grow as people? Do they, in and of themselves, ever have a large influence on the greater plot or are they there to be Harry's cheerleaders or the friend he's mad at today? Is Ron just "funny friend" and Hermione "smart friend"?

It's just, I agree there's no point to Mundungus, but that's pretty much every fucking character even some of the main ones.

(Is the purpose of Tonks just to be "cool girl" then die tragically off screen after having given birth to godson for Harry?)

That Said...

All of the above isn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it's actually quite good in some ways. People love the diverse cast of HP characters and all the zany people we meet along the way even if we only see them for two seconds.

If HP was a video game, I'd give JKR an A+ for side quests and funny NPCs who tell us all about their weird life stories while doing crazy things.

It's one of the things people really like about HP as a series.

But, that does mean pointing out Mundungus is pointless is kind of silly.

"So is everyone."

Thoughts on Mundungus

My spicy thoughts are "whoa, Harry, did you really have to strangle the guy out of nowhere like that?" and "... Huh, we just... never touched on that strangling incident again, did we? We really just let that simmer, didn't even question it, but I guess it's no worse than we let the Cruciatus Curse simmer/having absolutely no comment on that incident, so... in character."

Otherwise, Mundungus does seem to have an alcohol problem, he definitely has a pilfering problem and is known as such, he seems to be in the Order much for the reason a lot of people are in the Order, to round out their numbers for... purposes...

Even if that's a bit ridiculous when they ask him to do things he actually doesn't want to do (see him getting dragged into the Battle of Seven Potters and Moody ending up dead because of it).

As much as this isn't a "guess the author's intent" blog, I think JKR intended for him to be the scapegoat, of sorts, she needed shit to go wrong with the Order now and then (Harry getting attacked by Dementors in Little Whinging and no one noticing, Moody dying, the locket being sold off, etc.) and rather than spread the love among Order members we're supposed to like/think are incredibly competent, it all piles onto Mundungus.

[starrykirsche]

im so obsessed with your theme and your writing woah

could you maybe do a tom kaulitz x fem!reader and like how they met and how he started catching feelings and confessed

it can be headcanons or an imagine it really doesnt matter, but just something along those lines like maybe she went to their school or something

up to you love!!

Thank you for the req anon!! I had soo much fun writing this ^.^

Tom’s Confession

Tom Kaulitz fluff imagine + mini fic

when you first meet, you definitely do something that catches his attention other than just being attractive

maybe you offer to give him the answers to the homework without him even asking, or you compliment a new piece of clothing he got

whatever it is that you do, he will not stop talking about it to Bill.

“Can you believe that she did that? Oh and she’s so beautiful too! And smart, I bet she gets really good grades.”

subconsciously stops paying/giving any attention to other girls since he met you

he’ll talk about you glancing at him in the hallway for weeks.

eventually, Bill will get so tired of him constantly talking about you and he’ll ask why Tom has such a big crush on you.

“Wait— What? I don’t have a crush on her,”

“Yes you do dude, she’s all you ever talk about anymore.”

it takes Tom a minor argument with his brother to realize he’s completely head over heels for you, but once he does he’s always trying to impress you

raises his hand in class to answer the teacher, and gets it wrong confidently. you chuckle at him and he gets so flustered.

overworks himself in gym class to try to impress you, but his face is all red and he’s so sweaty when he tries to talk to you afterwards.

you see him defending Bill from a few bullies and the next time you see him you tell him that was a really nice thing for him to do for his brother

“Oh! Yeah of course, I mean, Bill’s my brother— and my best friend— how could I not?”

he’s so fidgety talking to you, and after Bill teases him for not being his usual confident self around you

even his bodyguard knows about you because he talks about you so much

when you guys are in class together he literally watches you the whole time

one time, he asked you for a pencil and you forgot to ask for it back and he’s treasured it ever since

Bill subtly trips him in front of you to tease Tom and then calls Tom a fumble foot when talking to you later on

he’s always “accidentally” bumping into you between classes but it’s so obvious it wasn’t accidental at all

learns your schedule so that he can awkwardly wave at you in the halls

during your last period of class, one that you share with Tom, a teacher asks if anyone will volunteer to sort some papers for her. you volunteer, and Tom decides that this is his time.

The final bell of the day rings and all the kids shuffle out. The teacher thanks you again for your help and disappears out of the room too. Tom and Bill are leaving the school together when Tom stops his brother and their bodyguard.

“Oh, I think I forgot my notebook in class,” He says nervously, “I’ll go grab that real quick,”

Bill shoots him a speculative look but after a beat, just nods in agreement.

Tom begins to walk back towards the school doors and yells back: “Pull the limo back around for me, okay?”

As Tom’s footsteps echo through the empty hallways, he finds himself more and more anxious. He tongues at the metal ring that decorates his bottom lip and clears his throat, going over his “lines”. Mouthing the words that he’s sure he’s going to say to you. He’s never been one to be nervous around girls, but for some reason you flip that switch in his brain. He makes it to the doorway of the classroom and peaks in. He sees you there, and his heart is in his throat. Letting out one last deep breath, he nods to himself.

He knocks on the door frame. You turn around, a stack of papers in your hand, and smile. “Oh, hey stranger.” She says warmly, “Forget something?”

He clears his throat and steps into the room, twiddling his thumbs. “No, actually. I was hoping I could talk to you.” Tom finally looks up at you and your eyes meet for a moment.

You set down the stack of papers and lean your hip on a desk, “Sure, what’s up?”

He sighs and walks a bit closer to you. “So.. um…” Hesitation laces his voice, his unsureness now bubbling up. But he looks at you again, and he’s sure he has to do this. “I’ve had this… feeling.. about you for quite some time,” Chewing on his bottom lip, he tries to figure out how to articulate this unfamiliar feeling of, well, adoration.

He winces and continues to speak, “I just think that you’re so wonderful, it’s not just your beauty, but- but your kindness and um…” He clears his throat and looks at you nervously. Your eyes are slightly wide and you slowly nod your head.

“I really like you.” He finally says. It feels like a great weight has been lifted off of him by this admission, and now all he can worry about is whether or not you reciprocate.

You sigh and let out an exasperated chuckle, “Really?” You ask. It seems to good to be true. A rockstar really likes you? I mean he’s been particularly friendly to you so far but this is… a touch more than friendly.

He nods his head nervously, thinking the worst from your reaction. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” He chokes out, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes.

“I do.” You say softly. His face lights up and he looks at you with full eyes, “You do?” With a small smile you nod. He beams and places his hands on your shoulders, shaking you by them, “You do!” Excitement paints his face and you can’t help but chuckle in return.

You two stand there for a moment, just giggling. Suddenly, he gasps and looks at the doorway, “The limo!” He says nervously, “They’re waiting on me!”

He turns back to you and leans down to kiss your cheek, “See ya tomorrow!” He shouts back as he makes a break for the limousine.

When he finally slams the door to long black vehicle, Bill’s looking at him with an unimpressed expression. Tom’s cheeks are flushed and he’s out of breath.

“Did she say yes?” Bill asks nonchalantly, crossing his arms.

A moment of silence hangs between them before Tom smiles wide, “She said yes.” Bill’s unimpressed expression breaks and he smiles.

“Dude I’m so proud of you!” Bill says excitedly as he raises his hand up for a high-five. Tom slaps his hand against Bill’s and squeals like a school girl.

“And I kissed her cheek!” Tom gushes.

Bill chuckles and shakes his head, “Good for you, Tomi.”

Tom hadn’t been this happy in a while, he couldn’t be any more glad that he had finally confessed to his favorite girl.

deine, kirsche. ✮

[sgiandubh]

Welcome to the shitshow

We have:

A ✈ sighting. No pics.

The MPC live, scarce details. No rings. Spartan decor. Suntan and out of Bonnie Scotland. No further details on destination, which might or might not be the same as the flight. Mark me, I think it is - he is in Gran Canaria and for a very precise reason: keeping his part of the deal and his Onlies on tenterhooks.

C is seen in Marseille, hullaballoo ensues. We pinpoint some coincidental details. I was expecting the shite to hit the fan in 4, 3, 2, 1...

And it did. With both sopranos hinting at the same person, but only one brave (or rather foolish enough) to push a name out there. Disingenuous, to say the least - but oh, how convenient for any given agenda. Because it's too easy, when you give out a name to a thirsty crowd to say: 'well, of course it's because of the shippers! They did this or that (sky is the limit)! They are to blame!' (excuse me?) and 'well, of course they won't say a word, now' (how convenient if the thing does not stick, eventually).

That was, IMHO, a strategic mistake and the petticoat is showing across the pond.

Around the same time, I started to get a different kind of Anon, day after day after day. Very brutal. Foul-mouthed. And...with some intel. I answered the first, but then when things started to 'happen', the coin dropped very quickly that: a) I did hit a nerve and b) someone or some people wanted me to push this particular agenda - remember when...?

For reference:

And then today, just in time for the long, boring, chilly and even snowy (depending on your location) week-end, the bomb dropped and the cargo was juicy:

A name. A woman. A gym. Not one, but three suspicious videos: the one with the leg, the one with the clear voice (unmistakably S!) and the one with the dog (and more S voiceover). How nicely connected. How fucking perfect.

An Airbnb close to the gym. What would a single woman traveler do in a three-bedroom gargantuan villa all by herself, when you are in Winterbird Central with a bajillion other accommodation options, is beyond any logic. So easily and lazily - OMG, date!

Unless...

Unless you conveniently forget some details:

Not one, but three different promos/endorsements, with a discount code to boot - 10% off, how nice!

The one that has been discussed by just about everyone:

The one that provided the discount code for new subscribers: Gymshark, a fitness attire manufacturer (https://eu.gymshark.com/).

And the most important one, hiding behind a humble hashtag: #metcon. Now I don't know you, but I'd rather digress about tea parlors and bookstores, and so had no fucking idea Metcon was, in fact...

Yup. Nike. A very recent model - expensive and sure, in need of immediate product placement/promo:

And so, for tax reasons, she just had to (mandatorily) include the #ad (as in advertisement, lest we'd not have naive Anons again!) hashtag.

Also, this, posted along the short reel with S's voice (but who cared, all 👂were there and only there):

That woman was working. She has, after all, 450k Insta followers. If she and S met at a gym in a winter destination very sought after by Scots should be none of our business. If they met again or have a regular training schedule does not mean they fuck or that we're going to look out for Remarkable Week-end 2.0. If they met in Hyrox GLA - so what? What is this, I beg your pardon, Gilead? People just can't hang out, like ever, I mean men and women?

🙄

But.. but... the gargantuan villa...?

Och. Sure enough, the place is correctly identified. You can check chez Marple. I am not posting it, because I do not want to and by now, I trust just about everyone has seen those pics. But this time, I am not going there. The name of that villa, even, made me laugh like a drain. I mean how more in your face can they be?

Who footed the bill of this rather comfy PR shitshow, reminiscing of Ha-wa-wee, 🐰 and whatever else you could think of? SRH?

Perhaps. But what if Nike did, as a freebie to a very good promoter? They sure can spare the dime and, to be honest, as we speak, there is no sign S and her share anything else than a gym schedule. What tells us with absolute certainty, at least at this moment in time, she is not there with friends, family or even a group of fellow promoters, Avon-style?

Oh, and the world is definitely a handkerchief, especially in GLA, it would seem. Wanna know who also follows her on Insta?

Paul Donnelly. Nope, not the chef. This Paul Donnelly:

The one who literally owes S a shitload of cash. A post that earned me a report (I was just explaining, if I remember correctly, that S would have been wise to legally secure that hefty loan, nothing more).

And now you know what? That post is gone, vanished, poof and I have no idea why. I surely did not take it down, I never do this.

And surely enough, just before I started writing, Filthy Anon came back and warned me there was more (pics, 👅👄) about McFitness. Surely enough, the same info (albeit toned down) was picked up by *urv in her comments' thread, about twenty minutes after Anon dropped by.

Agenda, anyone? God forbid!

You draw your own conclusions. I can only very honestly say:

Welcome to the Shitshow - the Winter Edition!

This page is not going to follow blindly your script, whoever you are. This page simply hopes to cleverly hit a nerve every time it considers necessary. Other than that, big effing deal, really. Ship on.

Sorry for the length. I was never good at summing up.