#romani loving hours

[mako-neexu]

everyday, everybody~

everyday, everybody~

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[simplyundeniable98]

look at me t.s.

Pairing | Thomas Shelby x Female reader

Summary | When Mrs. Shelby requests Tommy in the room with her for the birth of their first daughter everyone is shocked. Men aren't supposed to be in the room with their wives as they give birth, it's just not how it is supposed to be... well all men aren't Thomas Shelby.

Warnings | Mentions of childbirth, pain obviously she's literally giving birth, maybe ooc Tommy? idk. Reader is a little mean to her doctors but she's in pain cut her some slack. MDNI because I said so. Foul language.

Word Count | .06k

~This is loosely based off of the scene in Queen Charlotte when they won't let George into the room to see Charlotte. If you know what I'm talking about I love you~

All dialogue in italics is spoken in Romani.

"Mrs Shelby forgive me but husbands aren't usually in the room during the birth" The doctor spoke hesitantly as his eyes flicked nervously around the room.

Everyone seemed to speak hesitantly around her. I guess that was what you get when you become a Shelby. Everyone around you is constantly terrified to tell you no or disagree. It was like being royalty in a sort of fucked up way.

Polly Gray cut the doctor a look as she walked over to you and put a reassuring hand on your forehead.

"Polly please" you cried in pain "I need him here." Nothing from the old wive tales could compare to the pain you were feeling. You had been pushing for hours now with Polly at your side but nothing was working. Your daughter simply just would not budge. Polly had made the comment early on about her already showing traits from her father.

"I don't care what usually happens. If Tommy Shelby is not in this room in the next five minutes, I will personally end you." You spoke with a hiss pointing at the doctor.

You weren't usually this aggressive, but given the fact you were in pain and used to getting what you wanted all the time, the circumstances were different.

Polly sighed as she looked down at you and began to head out of the room.

"What's wrong, is she okay?" Tommy spoke immediately as Polly exited the doors of your room.

"She's requesting you Thomas" Polly spoke in Romani so as to not alert the other doctors of your request.

"She wants me in the room with her?" He spoke hesitantly as he looked towards the door.

Polly nodded and Tommy immediately started towards the door.

"I'm sorry Mr. Shelby but I cannot allow you to be in the room." The doctor outside of your door spoke as his eyes flicked down to the floor to avoid Tommy's sharp gaze.

"Tell me, doctor, do you like your job?" Tommy spoke with a raised brow as he waited for his response.

When he didn't reply Tommy bent down to reach his gaze "Hmm? I asked you a question doctor, do you like your job?"

"Yes. Yes I like my job" He murmured still avoiding the sharp blue eyes that were currently staring daggers at the man.

"Well if you intend on staying alive long enough to keep it, I suggest you move out of my way." Tommy stood up straight and tilted his head towards the door.

The doctor nodded and stepped aside, letting Tommy enter the room. "If I hear one more word from anyone about my presence in this room, I will have a peaky blinder on each and every one of your doorsteps first thing tomorrow morning" Tommy spoke before anyone could protest.

"Tommy" you gasped as you finally laid eyes on your husband. "I've been asking for you"

"I know, I know. But I'm here now eh? I'm here now." Tommy bent down to give your forehead a kiss as you winced.

"I cant do this Tommy" you cried "I want it to be over"

Tommy's heart broke at the sight of you. His wife. He wished he could just take all of your pain away and keep it for himself.

Tommy bent down to kneel at the side of your bed as he cradled your face in his hands.

"Look at me. Hey, Look at me, love." He spoke softly as you turned your head to gaze at him with teary eyes.

"You can do this. I know you can. You are the most headstrong women I know, and ill be damned if you give up now." You giggled at his lighthearted teasing and nodded.

"And you don't really have a choice love. This baby has got to come out in one way or another." He smirked at you as you rolled your eyes at your husband.

"Okay Mrs. Shelby its time to push" Your doctor spoke as Tommy placed a kiss on the hand he had ahold of and nodded at you.

"Let's meet our daughter Mrs. Shelby."

[blueninjablade3]

Yandere Frollo Alphabet

Real quick for my regular readers who are waiting for the Hades Angst I’m working on it at a snails pace but it’s shaping up nicely. I’m publishing this solely because it’s been in my drafts taunting me.

TW: Yandere themes, Slurs/ talks about slurs, genocide, medieval torture, isolation, abuse, gaslight, lack of right, racism, and religious themes.

If you are uncomfortable with any of this scroll on. I won’t be offended. If you are in a bad mental state I don’t recommend reading this Yandere relationships are extremely toxic and dangerous. If you or someone you love are in an abusive relationship, please remember you have resources to help you. I believe I’ve covered most of my bases so without further ado Yandere Frollo alphabet. Ps, left a little music if anyone wants to listen to that while they read.

Affection: how do they show you love and affection? How intense can It get?

I view Frollo somewhat like “I never quite learned to verbalize my feelings so I’m going to do very small things to tell you I love you.” Also, he brings you grapes. It’s every day he brings you grapes. (Unless you’re getting punished.) He does do the traditional kiss-your-cheek and forehead tho.

Blood: How dirty is he willing to get when it comes to you?

He’s willing to burn down all of Paris to find you. You and Esmeralda are gonna be best friends and shit talk Frollo together.

Cruelty: how will they treat you once kidnapped will he mock you?

Yes. Wtf do you think I would say “No he’s an angel” Brother has no problem calling someone a slur. Hell, I’d put money on the fact that he’d call a black person the N word hard R to their face. (He’s seriously the worst tho. Get y’all a man like… uh Prince Naveen. He’ll treat you better)

Darling: besides kidnapping you would he do anything else against your will?

Being an active part of the Romani people’s slaughter, being horrible to Quasi, and whipping people are the ones that are off the top of my head. I’m probably missing others but the point is he absolutely would.

Exposed: How much of his heart do you bear?

I think you actually bear 40%. The other 60 goes to the Bible and Christ. Don’t worry that’s still more than his family ever got.

Fight: How would he feel if you fought back?

CHOOSE ME OR YOUR PYRE BE MINE OR YOU WILL BURN~! But in all seriousness, he’s going to be so upset and do the same thing that he does to Quasi.

Game: Is this a Game to them? Would he like watching his darling try to escape?

No! This isn’t a game! Those filthy gypsies can’t be trusted! (it feels wrong even typing that 😭) They’ll harm you! You need to stay safe. In the bell tower.

I also don’t think he’d enjoy you escaping. He wants you at arm’s length at all times.

Hell: Your worst experience with him.

After one of your little “stunts” he had you flogged for a few hours and then you didn’t get lunch for a few days. (like three)

Ideals: what he sees in the future with you.

He sees a traditional Christian marriage (pretend male x male relationships were most of the time accepted by the church), a couple of NORMAL kids (he is the worst), and all the Romani people dead. (ICK)

Jealousy: does he get jealous and if he does, does he find a way to cope or will he lash out?

He gets very jealous and never controls it. He always lashes out. At this point, don’t even look at a fly anymore. He’ll get jealous of it.

Kisses: How does he act around you?

He’s possessive, creepy, and lustful. Think about how he behaves with Esma and multiply by two.

Love letters: how would he go about courting/approaching you?

He’s very traditional. He’s the type who’d buy a goat to give to your dad and then just be like “Gimme.” But he would approach you beforehand and have some small talk in passing.

Mask: Are his truth colors different from what people think?

No. He’s very publicly creepy and weird it seems. People also fear him and view him as dangerous which you can say firsthand is true. Creepy bitch.

Naughty: how would he punish you?

He’s the type to flog you for a little, isolate you, and then limit food consumption. You’re extremely afraid of acting out or acting against him for fear of his reaction.

Oppression: what rights did he take away from you:

Freedom, religion (if you’re anything other than Roman Catholic you’ll have to practice and pray in secret.), privacy, and if you’re American the right to bear arms. Really any weapons he’ll take away. (Maybe see if you can hide a dagger?)

Regret: does he regret kidnapping you? Will he ever let you go?

Haha! You’re so funny if you think he’d let you go or think he’d regret kidnapping you! The Lord brought you two together! You two were meant to be! Now stop struggling unless you wanna go back to the palace of justice.

Sigma: what brought this side of him?

I think his lust, pride, and lack of getting any bitches over his years all contributed. He got lustful for you, and he didn’t know how to react, then instead of admitting that he was in the wrong his pride got the best of him, and blamed you. When his lust won caused his Yandere actions.

Tears: how would he feel if you cried screamed or Isolated yourself?

He doesn’t care! You’ll learn to love him eventually. If you don’t… you won’t like what’s gonna happen. But do go ahead.

Unique: is there anything different from a normal Yandere

He has a massive superiority complex? He also can have people flogged and not be questioned.

Vice: what can you use to escape him?

I’m not quite sure. I guess maybe you could hide in the court of miracles?

Witts end: would he ever hurt you

Without a second thought.

Xoanon: how much does he revere/worship you and to what extent is he willing to go to win you over

He’s willing to go to extreme lengths. I know I’ve talked a lot of shit about him in this but in all seriousness, he views you as a gift from the heavens. An angel sent to him. His angel.

Yearn: How long before he snapped and kidnapped you?

He’s a patient man. I’m going to say if you play your cards right and Quasi is still young about 1.5 years till he snaps.

Zenith: would he ever break you?

Oh definitely.

Thank you for reading! Please remember that rebloging, likes and comments are much appreciated! ❤️

[zablife]

Ruins

Summary: With Tommy's love and support, Lily speaks to her husband for the first time in over a year.

A/N: A continuation of my AU between Tommy and his catatonic wife Lily, a victim of the Changretta family's brutality. Read their journey beginning with Lily, then Windflowers.

Warnings: mention of abuse, PTSD

"Tommy," it was the first word she'd spoken since her kidnapping and it nearly broke him. The sound of her fragile, aching voice calling for solace within the walls of their darkened bedroom.

He'd sprung forward instantly to embrace her, too afraid to let the fleeting moment for connection slip through his fingers. "I'm here. You're safe with me," he'd whispered against her skin, wondering how much she heard. "I love you, Lily," he professed early that morning, tears falling into her thick hair as he cradled her into him as carefully as he could manage.

Tommy didn't dare breathe as his wife rested her cheek atop the Romani sun just above his heart. In fact, he didn't sleep for hours afterward, devoting himself to her comfort as he lovingly stroked the long strands of hair that fell across his shoulder. He could only watch in hushed awe as her ribcage rose and fell against his in total relaxation.

"I never thought I'd hear you say it again," he whispered gratefully into the silence, chest swelling with emotion.

-------------------------------------

The days after passed quickly, Lily's progress suddenly moving at a pace that frightened Tommy greatly. Words turned to sentences and soon he feared she would speak of the brutality she'd endured.

"What if I'm not ready, Pol?" he gulped, watching his aunt with anxious eyes.

"She can't put a face on any longer, my boy," Polly reminded him. "You've heard the doctor's reports...know what those men did to her. This will be the hardest part, I won't lie to you."

She took a deep breath as she rose from her chair, staring out the window to watch Lily in the garden, memories of her own misfortune returning to her. Turning to face her nephew she added thoughtfully, "The awful truth is the fingerprints stain your skin forever....All you can do now is be there for her, listen to her." Eyes filled with unshed tears, Polly squeezed Tommy's hand as she gave a firm nod, an unspoken understanding he would do the right thing.

Tommy bit down hard on his lower lip to keep it from trembling, a deep inhale of breath to steady himself before searching for his wife in the gardens.

"Lily, my darling," he greeted her with a soft kiss to her cheek. "How are you today?"

"It's hard...to...to be brave... alone," she stuttered.

"You don't have to be alone anymore," he promised, taking her hand in his, the ache of her limp hand never quite leaving his consciousness, guilt weighing him down like a boulder. "I'm here with you and if there's anything you want to say, I'm listening," he assured, the softness of his blue eyes washing over her in gentle waves.

Lily remained still for a lengthy period, back rigid against the garden bench and Tommy sighed in bitter disappointment for the silence lingering between them.

Then unexpectedly, her voice began in trepidation. It was a shaky start as she seemed to hum first, testing out her throat to see if it steady enough before venturing forth. Then, much to Tommy's surprise, the words came tumbling out. "I didn't say a word...surely that proves it," she seemed to accuse herself. Though the content was troubling, her tone remained flat and her eyes stared ahead, watching something far in the distance.

Tommy captured her face in his palms, forcing her gaze toward his. "Proves what, eh? I know you did everything you could," he insisted.

She fought against him for a moment, eyes wild as she jerked her chin defiantly, a harsh catch of her breath letting him know some agonizing memory was reaching the innermost workings of her mind, too deep for him to penetrate. Tommy lifted his hands from her face, palms raised in surrender to show she was free to do as she pleased.

When Lily saw she was safe, her breathing slowed and she ventured a glance toward Tommy. Passing a trembling hand through her hair she confided, “They said our girl would live…” her voice broke before adding bitterly, “They laughed because I was stupid enough to believe them.”

Then in a voice so quiet it was almost carried away on the wind, she whispered to the ground, “I wish I could explain why…”

Tommy reached for her once more, an empathetic warmth to his words as he promised, "I don't fucking care about those bastards. And you know why? Because what they’ve made you believe is a lie! You're so fucking strong. You fought to come back to me and you have no idea how much more I love you for that."

Lily's tear stained face turned slowly toward her husband, a mixture of shame and desperation pleading for his help, hoping just this once he could hear her through the broken words. “How could you love me now? It’s my…my fault.”

"You're not to blame, you hear me? I won't let you frame yourself for their sins anymore," Tommy answered with conviction.

She hung her head in disbelief, a single protest left upon her lips. "I'm in ruins, Tommy," she confessed, sadly. "Is that the wife you hoped to welcome home?"

Tommy gave her his answer by cupping her chin and brushing his lips to hers tenderly. The gentle affection was reassuring, a forgotten memory resurfacing of a spring afternoon like this one many years ago. Something in the familiarity of her surroundings, combined with Tommy’s comforting scent relaxed her, body melting into his as he cradled her against his broad shoulder. The kiss was short and chaste by comparison to those they'd shared in the past, but Tommy's heart soared as Lily reciprocated his affection with a sigh upon her lips.

Foreheads pressed together, Tommy sought Lily's hand, lacing their fingers together. "We'll rebuild," he proposed with a gentle squeeze. "Because you're mine and you always will be," he swore beneath the canopy of wisteria and roses.

-------------------------

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[brucewaynehater101]

Very angsty hurt no comfort :)

TW: death, major character deaths, blood

"We can't win."

Batman's back is to the teen. Though Tim can't see his face, he knows the man is clenching his teeth. His shoulders are tense, his gloves strain under the tension of his fist, and the cape is rigid in its stillness. Every signal of the "unreadable" Batman is screaming stubborn resolution.

"B."

The man still won't turn to face his son.

"Bruce."

The man closes his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling. He let's out a shaky exhale.

His voice is hoarse. It's almost a whisper as he begs Tim for respite.

"We have to try."

Red Robin wants to cry.

He is a witness to a man out of options. He's watching a hero without hope. He's observing the infallible crumble. He sees Batman pleading for just one more plan.

Tim closes his eyes.

He can't... He can't see his dad like this. Not Bruce.

The son bites his lip until copper coats his tongue.

There has to be something. Anything. Between Tim, Bruce, and the entire hero community, there has to be a solution. They've got time.

Never mind the hours of research, calculations, simulations, and data that proves otherwise.

Tim nods to himself. He swallows the blood gushing in his mouth. His breath shakes, but he manages to pull his voice into a steady cadence.

"Okay."

His eyes slid open.

"Okay."

Bruce still won't face Tim, but the teen expected that. The man had never been good at facing what he perceives as his failures. He won't be able to look at Tim without berating himself for his inability to protect his children.

"Tim."

Through the reflection of the WatchTower window, Bruce meets his gaze. The father scrutinizes the teen as if he'll never lay his eyes upon him again. A flicker of regret passes Bruce's eyes.

Tim assumes the man condemns himself for not being able to save his family.

"Whatever the outcome may be, we will be together. All of us."

Those words burn as much as they comfort. At the very least, none of them would be alone.

Tim, as all Robins are prone to do, cracks a sly grin. "I'm not sure one place could contain us all."

Bruce, as Batman is prone to do, allows his lips to twitch upwards in response.

~~~

It's been 36 hours, but they have mere minutes left.

Barbara's hands had left her keyboard thirty minutes ago. Her left one tightly grips Dick's wrist. The other runs through Cass's hair. Black Bat has her head in Barbara's lap as her eyes dart between her family members.

Tim offers her a soft, pained smiled when their eyes meet. Cass mouths the words "I love you."

Dick is seated on the floor next to Bab's wheelchair. Two minutes ago, he had started humming a Romani tune as he rocked Damian in his lap. All conversation stilled as his voice gently carried.

Damian has gone quiet. No one has heard him speak in four hours.

Steph is curled around Cass. Tears silently stream down her face, but no one acknowledges it.

Duke stands behind Barbara's chair with one hand on her shoulder. He intermittently starts up breathing exercises to calm his shaking.

Jason Todd is present, but he's slightly distant from the group. He stares ahead in reluctance as imminent death stares back at him once again.

Tim's eyes keep drifting to the door.

Bruce had promised.

He promised Tim that, in the end, he'd be here with them.

He promised.

With three minutes to go, Tim knows he's not coming. He knows Bruce will never make it.

It's a cruel pain to bear when his life is ending.

Tim's just glad he never told his siblings otherwise.

The teen allows himself one moment. One moment to collect himself.

He breathes in.

He breathes out.

He nods to himself.

Tim walks over to Jason with another melancholic smile. He holds up his hand.

The older brother pauses. He glances down at the hand, and his expression carefully breaks. He allows his younger brother to pull him back into the group.

Everyone stares out of the WatchTower windows at the cause of their death. Dick's voice carries, even when it wavers in emotion.

This is it. The end.

At least they're together.

[emo-batboy]

Battinson and Food

He’s vegetarian and I will hear none of your crap

Depression meals, so many depression meals

I already made a post of his greatest hits here but here's three more:

A whole tub of apple sauce

Instant grits mixed with a hot chocolate packet

And a bowl of croutons

Some meals have actually graduated from the “Depression Meal” category to “Whenever I Can Sneak It Out of the Kitchen” status (because Alfred is appalled every time)

Dick, with the invincible, titanium-lined stomach of a 9yo, doesn’t know why Bruce makes them, but he loves taking bites of Bruce’s weird concoctions.

His favorites so far are:

Cream cheese and jelly sandwich

Spoonfuls of peanut butter (with chocolate chips, that was his idea)

And frozen garlic bread

Diner Food is King. (This is New Jersey. What did you expect?) His go-to order is two eggs over easy, well-done rye toast, grits with syrup and butter, and a fruit cup with no melons from the 24-hour place two blocks east. Hasn’t changed since he was five. Never will.

Bruce can cook food that is edible. Edible.

Like if he tries to make Italian, he can successfully cook the pasta. He can make a basic sauce. He can even plate it.

The tomato sauce is crunchy in some places, yes, but it’s fine :) and it is edible

but Bruce has NEVER succeeded in a baking endeavor, and it positively devastates him every single time

“Baking is science! I love science! I’m great at science. So why didn’t the cake rise when I did everything on the recipe?!” “You need to make it with love-“ “That wasn’t on the ingredients list, Alfred!”

He can handle spice surprisingly well. It’s not like he could avoid it while training all over the world, so he ended up building a tolerance, but his eyes still go unbelievably red every time.

He really fucks with bagels (I mean, what self-respecting Gothamite doesn’t) and he has a very specific bagel order for every possible mood from the great place downtown

The workers at Bagel Kingdom know which moods correspond with which order, and they have a designated spreadsheet taped to the back of the counter so they can work accordingly.

They know he’s barely hanging in there when he gets a toasted blueberry bagel with no butter.

He’s having a good day when he gets a plain bagel sandwich with tomato, provolone, two fried eggs, and hot sauce. In that order. That’s the shit

When he’s stressed, he gets a pumpernickel bagel with strawberry cream cheese to cheer himself up.

The workers of Bagel Kingdom will NOT let you disrespect his bagel.

Bruce almost burnt the tower down when he tried to cook a toaster waffle in the microwave while running on 40 hours without sleep, and he just kept cooking it because it wasn’t crisping for some reason

Alfred needs to force him to eat all the time

(It is definitely because Bruce suffers from disordered eating.)

There was one period of time in which Bruce went days without food, and Alfred (lovingly) threatened to send him to in-patient if he didn’t eat

Bruce said that those gross, mushy, lukewarm blueberries were the only thing he’d tolerate when he was struggling, so blueberries became their indicator: if Bruce can’t stomach blueberries, he goes to in-patient.

He’s gone twice, and Bruce was very mad each time, but he still uses healing methods that he was taught in there so it couldn’t have been that bad.

(He’s also friends with some of the nurses now. He, Denise, and Kayleigh have a group chat.)

Dick once convinced him to test taste different kinds of olive oil to learn the difference between regular and extra virgin. It was absolutely disgusting, and he ended up puking an hour later. Alfred now puts child locks on the kitchen cabinets.

The first time Bruce ever makes a meal that doesn’t look horrid is when he spends two weeks practicing Romani dishes for Dick the month after he adopts him.

He has since perfected three different recipes:

Stuffed peppers

Goulash

Cabbage rolls

(Keep in mind Dick is not vegetarian like Bruce.)

He tried making almond cake like 80 times (which is more like a biscuit but still a baked good) but could never do it right so Alfred makes them instead.

At dinner time, Dick always eats off Bruce’s plate more than his own. Alfred has chastised him several times, but Bruce only encourages him more. He thinks it’s cute. And so does the general public when they attend dinner parties.

One of Bruce's favorite memories of his parents is when he had a bad dream in the middle of the night so Thomas and Martha drove him out to the nearest diner to have a chocolate milkshake at 3 am.

Now, after patrol, if Bruce saw something traumatic or something that reminded him of his parents’ death, he’ll go to that same 24-hour diner and sit for a bit with a chocolate milkshake.

He continues this tradition after Dick becomes Robin. (Even if it took months for Bruce to even consider the idea of letting Dick near harm’s way.)

No matter how hard he tries to keep Dick away from the gruesome stuff, he can’t stop everything. They get milkshakes a lot more than Bruce would like.

But eventually, it turns into a treat whenever Dick does well in school or needs a pick-me-up.

And when they add Jason to the mix, they introduce him to the tradition as well.

They know everything will be okay when they have chocolate milkshakes together.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Can I request a Abraham ff inspired by "meet me at the pale moonlight" by Lana del Rey? And maybe some angst cuz Abraham being mean

Hello! Apologies for making you wait for over two months for this. I hope it's to your liking.

Warnings: Angst, allusions to smut but nothing too spicy, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~950

There’s a chill in the air that hasn’t been there all summer long, it makes her regret not bringing a coat out with her as her skin prickles with gooseflesh. She hadn’t realised Abraham would keep her waiting this long. She always seems to be waiting for him lately.

She shifts from foot to foot, anxiously picking at the red lacquer that coats her fingernails. The same shade of crimson she’d worn the night they’d met, when he’d flashed that cocky smirk of his her way and asked her if she wanted a drink.

That smirk is long gone now as he walks towards her, he seems more like a man being marched towards his execution.

“We haven’t got much time.” He tells her gently, stroking her hair away from her face.

She nods in understanding. He never has time anymore, not like he used to back when the evenings were still light and it was as balmy outside as it was inside. They’d spend hours laughing, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future, their hands tracing paths across each other’s flesh as though they were attempting to commit it to memory as they made love.

He takes her by the hand, leading her towards the barn and she allows her fingers to interlock with his, relishing the contact, giving herself a moment to pretend that he is hers.

“I wish I’d met you first.” He’d told her one night, resting his head upon her chest as they’d laid amongst the hay. She had expected to feel angry when he’d revealed he was engaged to be married, but she didn’t, not when he’d explained to her that it was Romani tradition for marriages to be arranged. He had no feelings for Luella, was just doing what was expected of him. There was an unspoken agreement between them that things would come to an end once he was finally wed, so she resigned herself to this being a summer fling and nothing more.

The feelings that linger between them, however, are more than apparent as he presses his lips to hers, slow and unhurried. There is an overwhelming sense in her heart and mind that he is kissing her like this is the final time he’ll ever get to. She is surprised when he takes the time to carefully lay her down and undress her. A lump forms in her throat as his hands caress her curves, slowly and purposefully. He is committing her to memory.

Alhough he doesn’t care for Luella, his marriage to her is one of great importance to his people. His social standing within the Romani community is hinged upon this union, and so he cannot risk it. Bitter though it is, she accepts it. It is clear to her, though he has never said it, that someone from his camp suspects something. For the past few weeks he has been late to each of their meet ups, their trysts have been hurried fucks against the wall before he has to rush back again. 

Not tonight. Tonight Abraham’s blue eyes lock with hers, his gaze soft and filled with adoration as he thrusts languidly into her. She clings tightly to him, basking in the sensation while it is still hers to experience.

He had almost let the words slip once. They had been seeing each other for around a month and he'd gotten carried away in the heat of the moment.

“I lo-” She pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“-don’t say that,” She’d said pleadingly. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

This particular moment feels as though it transcends those three little words, as their breaths intermingle and they hold each other close, memorising every soft moan and gentle roll of each other’s hips.

When they are both spent, they lay in each other’s arms and she despises the finality of it all, hating the way her eyes sting with unshed tears. She makes the mistake of looking up at Abraham and her heart clenches painfully as she notices the wetness rimming his own eyes, the plushness of his full lips pulled morosely downwards.

“This is the last time, isn’t it?” She whispers, once she finally finds the courage to speak as they begin to put their clothes back on.

“The wedding’s tomorrow,” He says solemnly. “We’re moving on the day after. I’m sorry.”

She’s always known this was coming, yet it does nothing to soften the blow. It’s as though all the air has left her lungs as she tries her best not to cry. There are a million things she wants to say, she could beg him not to marry Luella, to be with her instead, but what use is it? She cannot expect him to give up his community, his reputation, resign himself to a life that’s static, so she says nothing.

He cups her cheek, his palm warm and calloused against the softness of her face, and looks fondly down at her, though his eyes betray the same devastation she feels. “I really do wish I’d met you first.”

The words topple forth before she can stop them. “I lo-”

“-don’t say that,” He cuts her off. “I won’t be able to walk away if you say that, and I have to.”

She nods, the pain in her chest blooming acrid and heavy, and he kisses her, kisses her like it is the last kiss they’ll ever share, and this time it is.

She can still feel the way his lips move against hers as she watches him walk away and she wonders how long it will be until she no longer remembers what that’s like. It’s only then that she allows the tears to fall. Beneath the pale moonlight she mourns the end of summer and the end of a love that was simply never meant to be.

[nik-barinova]

*gently hands you my farmer!Zoey info and Shane headcanons and then offers to drop my lore on them, but really for Zoey*

Zoey Kilduff

Full Name: Zoey Elaine Kilduff

Age: 32 (as of Yr 1)

Height: 5’10”

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Sexuality: Pansexual

Nationality: Scottish

Ethnicity: Romani, Indonesian, Indian, Afghani

Farm Name: Solasta Farm

Main Produce: Cheese, Jams, Flowers, Wine, Fruit Tree Fruits, Peppers

Primary Choice of Clothing: Gothic and casual

Loves: Tropical curry, Pepper poppers, Green tea, Iridium bar, Topaz, Prehistoric Skull

Likes: All Eggs, All Minerals, All Flowers (except Daffodil and Dandelion)

Neutral: Hazelnut, Ginger, Maki Roll, Holly Leek, Truffle, Clay, Seaweed

Dislikes: All Mushrooms, All Geodes, Cave Carrot, Pine Tar, Spring Onion, Qi Fruit

Hates: Mayo

Bio:

Daughter to a boxing legend and a late dancing queen, Zoey Kilduff virtually had to raise her younger siblings herself despite being the eldest triplet. Their father was not one to exactly get physical with his triplet children, but he does get in their head too much to the point of them developing serious anxiety and self esteem issues. Her father owned an MMA/Boxing club in Zuzu City, and every day after school, Zoey and her younger siblings would go to workout and train, sometimes going into the late hours.

Zoey never could remember much of her mother, except that she would protect her and her siblings from their father until one night she disappeared.

The only time Zoey ever recalled good moments was when her uncle would sneak the triplets out to a gridball game or a rock concert. Zoey and her uncle were close enough that she would end up calling him her “dad” later on, and so did her siblings.

Things only got worse, though, when her father decided to enter her in a series of boxing matches as a teen illegally by lying about her age. Zoey still had an impressive record, but she would come to school with multiple bruises and cuts, prompting school officials to question her about her home life. Zoey felt anxious to tell the truth, but she did what she believed was right. However, she was (supposedly) proven wrong by her father later that week.

Her father would not speak to her except for when he trained her, but he was much harsher on her than he would be towards her two other siblings. One evening, he would take her on a drive, just him and her, and have a “talk”; which was code for “not good, not good”. The drive was anxiety inducing for Zoey, and before she knew it, the “talk” turned into a shouting match between them.

The last thing the both of them could remember was a sudden flash of bright beams and a the sound of a truck horn.

Zoey woke up surrounded by her siblings, uncle, and grandparents as well as police. She could barely remember what had happened up until the wreck, but with what she could remember, her and her siblings’ father was finally arrested for various charges and would lose custody of the triplets and be left with their uncle. At the cost of being free from their father, Zoey was left a total arm amputee due to how bad the wreck was.

After much rehab, therapy, and support from her loved ones, Zoey and her siblings were able to finish high school, and eventually go on to graduate college. Though while the younger siblings went on to pursue their respective careers, Zoey had difficulty finding proper work and eventually settled for something calmer, thus landing her at a corporate office job with Joja Corp. At first, this was a great opportunity for her to find some sort of peace and calm for her going forward in life, it was definitely the most boring and tiring job for her until she realized this was not what she had in mind for her life.

Sure she was able to find more therapeutic alternatives like skull paintings, but living out the rest of her days sitting in a cubical?

That was until early in her thirties did she receive a letter from her dying grandfather that he had left her a huge inheritance: the old family farm Solasta Farm.

Once she realized this was a new chance at a second life, Zoey quit her job at Joja Corp, and quickly moved to Stardew Valley, truly giving herself a second chance at a new life.

Now if only she could get a chance to befriend a certain town drunk…

[arterartthings]

There’s been a lot of Max/Bradley ship art influx lately and so allow me to show off my own Ship art of that lovely brat

Bradley Uppercut III x Kaito „Clio” Matsuda to be more precise

Some headcanons about Kaito:

Clio is an exchange student from Japan. He studies Japanese culture anthropology and history

He comes from a very rich family with long history reaching Azuchi-Momoyama period. His relationship with his male relatives however is very strain

Clio is a half-blood- his mother was a french Romani woman, while his father is full japanese

This caused our poor boy to have a lot of complexes about his heritage from mother’s side back in elementary and high school. Mostly it was caused by his relatively darker skintone and curly hair (he actually straightens his hair to this very day).

He recently got over it and now prefers his more Roma nickname. He actually dislikes being called by his surname or real name.

He was very hated by middle school teachers for his unruliness. At some point, when they forced him to cut his hair, he purposely failed his tests and assignments as a form of protest for ridiculous standards. When Clio was allowed to grow his hair back, he rewrote all his tests near perfectly and got very good grades from then on.

He became somewhat of a hero and symbol among other students, who also started failing their tests and assignments en masse on purpose so the school would be forced to loosen restrictions on appearance (ot worked)

As you can guess, he was a delinquent with a heart of gold.

Also, although I didn’t draw it, he vapes. A lot.

Back to ship with Bradley

When Clio started attending the exchange program, his first encounter with Bradley was quite hostile. Bradley basically challenged him to prove his superiority by (inserting casual racism) showing off his karate skills. Bradley later regretted it with black eye from him.

They somewhat reconciled after Clio showed him off his ice skating skills on the rink and Bradley invited Clio to Gamma Mu Mu as their sportsman.

And Bradley had lots of issues understanding cultural differences of Clio, like him sleeping on floor mattress, spending an hour in a bathroom, eating soup for breakfast or taking off shoes upon entrance to frat house.

Clio COULD NOT stand living with other gammas (aside from Tank and Bradley). He always found a lot of their habits very annoying to bear (like leaving empty beer bottles, leaving laundry mess or not cleaning regularly).

Their romance began to grow once they started tutoring each other. Bradley was tutoring Clio in English and skateboard, while Clio tutored Bradley in Math and ice skating.

They tried to dismiss their feelings towards each other. Eventually, thinking his love is one way, Bradley confessed his love to Clio, expecting ridicule, only for him to clap back with that he also has feelings for Bradley.

They thought that nobody knows about them being gay and that they must keep it a secret. However, their love in reality was an open secret among gammas. There were so many situations where they caught the lovebirds sleeping on sofa together or that Bradley accidentally once left out a clearly love letter to Clio in the locker. But in the end, Gammas were absolutely fine with their leader being gay. In fact they made sure nobody bullied Bradley and Clio on prom night.

After graduation, Bradley has chosen to go with Clio back to Japan and find study opportunity

Now headcanons about their love

Clio os the dom, Bradley is the sub.

Clio is the one who cooks, while Bradley is the one who cleans after dinner.

Bradley doesn’t mind Clio calling him „Brad” anymore.

When sleeping, Clio always has to cuddle Bradley like a pillow all night and wriggle around their futon with him.

Clio also tutors Bradley in japanese.

Their favorite time of the year are Hanami and Christmas (they eat a lot of KFC on holidays)

Both fathers of the boys disapproved their love, but after some time (and mr. Uppercut and mr. Matsuda eventually met) they just let it fly.

Might feature doodles of them in the future

[tinkerbelle05]

Angsty Batfam Headcanons

Bruce wears his mother’s dresses as a form of comfort. His mind playing tricks on him thinking that they still smell like her, even though they have been washed and pressed multiple times since her passing.

When Dick had nightmares of his parents’ fall, Bruce would sing Romani lullabies to give him some comfort and they worked like half of the time. Sometimes it just reminded him too much of his mother and that made the cries louder.

During Jason’s first few weeks at the manor he had a bag of clothes, food, and money in case he’d do something that’ll get him kicked out or if Bruce wasn’t as kind as he seemed. Now that he has returned, he still feels that. That one day he’ll push Bruce’s buttons too much or say something cruel during one of their arguments, and instead of welcoming him back with open arms and a smile, he’d slam the door on him. Bruce is a kind and compassionate person who loves too much, but he is human, and they all have a breaking point.

Duke definitely sees Bruce as a father figure and he loves Bruce, but he just can’t fit his mouth to say the words “Dad” to him and he feels like the odd one out where everyone can call him dad effortlessly. That’s not true (Dick and Tim) but his late-night thoughts have him convinced it’s true.

Sometimes Alfred wondered if he hadn't done enough to help Bruce. He knows about the shortcomings he had when Bruce was growing up–that he was more a stoic guardian than a loving father–but maybe he should’ve pushed therapy more or hugged him more. Or just done more.

It’s still weird having an attentive parent for Tim. He loved his parents, but their jobs kept them away from him for long periods of time so he learned how to manage without. But then there’s Bruce who calls once a week to talk for hours, who asks him questions about live and it’s odd. A part of him likes the attention but it drains him regardless and he hates that. He hates that he finally got what he had wanted for years and it makes his skin crawl. He knows that eventually, Bruce would stop attempting to reach out, and he dreads the day it happens.

When Damian’s out either as Damian Wayne or Robin, he sees families—a mother, a father, and a child—and he loathes them. He loves his family for all of the flaws and messed up things that happened between them. But sometimes, a small part of him wishes and dreams that his parents were together. He knows that it’ll never happen and it’s probably for the best that it doesn’t but Grayson said that it’s okay to have hopes that will never come to fruition, good for the soul or something like that. So he hopes.

There are times when Cass thinks she is more of a weapon than a person. She has taken many steps to combat this idealization but the thought lingers around her. It lingers in the amount of people she killed, the way she can read people’s body movements subconsciously, and the people compliment her when they see how effortlessly dancing comes to her. She has all the tools, so what if one day, she just snaps?

[orthopunkfox]

Saint Maria Skobstova was an Orthodox Christian and ardent socialist. Born in Latvia in 1891 to an aristocratic family, she eschewed her birth and allied herself with the radical socialists she met in Saint Petersburg. In 1910 she married a fellow Bolshevik and published a book of socialist poetry. Her marriage quickly disintegrated, her husband renouncing socialism and becoming a Roman Catholic priest. Maria continued to write poetry and pamphlets. In 1918 after the Bolshevik revolution, in which she directly participated, she was sent to Anapa in the south of Russia where she was elected mayor. After the anti communist White Army took control of the town, Maria was arrested and put on trial for her role in the revolution. The judge was Daniil Skobstova, a former teacher of hers. She was acquitted and the two fell in love and soon married.

Due to the ever shifting political tide in Russia, Maria and her husband made their way to France, arriving in Paris in 1923, Maria having given birth to three children along the way. Her husband was a wealthy man and purchased a large home from the family in Paris. When Maria begged him to make use of the house for the mutual aid of the poor, he refused. Maria subsequently divorced him.

After her divorce, her bishop advised her to become nun. She agreed on the condition that she would not be secluded away in an isolated convent but that she would be able to stay in Paris and serve the poor. After her tonsure, now called Mother Maria, she converted her large home into a mutual aid center. The top floors becoming a free medical clinic, and the bottom floors serving as soup kitchen and hostel. Mother Maria, with the help of her two grown children Yuri and Sophia, served over 400 hot meals a day. Maria rented a small house in Paris which became her convent. It was during this time that her eldest daughter, Anastasia, died suddenly of influenza. Her death spurred Maria deeper into theological writing and charitable works. She began to devote every waking hour to the Church and to the poor of Paris.

When the Nazis invaded Paris, Mother Maria worked with her priest to provide baptismal certificates for Parisian Jews. When the Nazis began to round up the Jewish population, Mother Maria visited them thrice daily, bringing them hot meals and spending time with them, treating them as equals and reminding them of their human dignity. As she left, she would always try to sneak Jewish children out in the empty soup pots and trash cans. Once out, she and her priest would arrange travel to the south of France and then out to unoccupied countries.

Her smuggling activities were discovered and she, her two children, and her priest were arrested. Her priest and children were sent to Dora concentration camp where they died. Mother Maria was sent to Ravensbrück, the all-female concentration camp which housed mostly socialists, Christians, and homosexuals.

At Ravensbrück, Mother Maria lead Christian prisoners in prayer and worship, and organised mutual aid for the few children (mostly orphaned Romani) who were at the camp, ensuring the children had food and clothing and even arranging dolls and books to be made for them.

In early March of 1945, the Soviet Red Army continued their advance into Germany, concentration camps were closed and the women who were not shot were sent to Ravensbrück for immediate gassing. One group of women, imprisoned for "asocial behaviour" (homosexuality) arrived in Ravensbrück in early April.

The lesbians were rounded up, forced into a single column, and led to the gas chamber. Amongst them was a 16 year old girl whom Mother Maria had never met. Her heart broke for this child and she immediately volunteered to take her place in line, secretly passing her a piece of paper.

On Saturday April 7th 1945, Holy Saturday according to the Orthodox calendar, Mother Maria was murdered in the gas chambers surrounded by young homosexual women. It is said that she chanted the psalms as she died.

Less than a week later, the Soviet army liberated the camp. On the body of a young girl who had been shot as the Nazis fled, they found a poem in Mother Maria's handwriting:

O Lord, remember, not only the men and women of good will, but also those of ill will.

But do not remember all the suffering they have inflicted on us; remember the fruits we have borne, thanks to this suffering:

our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of all this,

and when they come to judgement, let all the fruits we have borne be their forgiveness.

Mother Maria Skobstova of Paris, pray to God for us.

[lucien-calore]

you know what pisses me the fuck off? what irks the SHIT out of me??

how in the very few john x esme (with them as the main couple) fics we have on ao3, almost all of them involve infidelity

i mean, THIS is how they looked at each other after they had quite literally just met:

this is the look of love. and they had literally just met. this is the first time they ever looked at each other.

and john even looks at tommy to confirm that that beautiful woman is his future wife, here:

look at that smug "hell yes, THIS is my future wife" look on john's face, look at that proud little smirk on his face. that is the face of a man proud and smug about his wife.

LOOK AT THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER AFTER THEY JUST MET!!!

this is the way they HOLD each other

this is the way they KISS. john is smiling into the fucking kiss of a girl he just met.

the same girl he didn't want to marry and even wrestled tommy because he didn't half an hour before

this is them at the wedding reception (i think? i'm not too sure how romani weddings work) hours after they married complete strangers

that is NOT cheater behavior. at all.

[anawrites3]

I’ve been lurking around the sladick fandom for a good few years and I just wanna know what’s your favorite trope to write them in… or like favorite head cannons you’ve got of them.. (one of mine is Slade takes terrible care of his hair and Dick always washes it and cuts it for him)

I don't actually think I have a favorite trope to write them in, I enjoy them in all situations and all the flavors 😌 Oh, I don't know if that counts as a trope but I love writing Slade going "Shh" and Dick immediately being quiet. It's a mood, honestly haha

But headcanons! I can talk a lot about headcanons! And I love yours, it's so adorable 🥺💕 Dick taking care of Slade, so lovely

Here are a few of mine:

Slade's favorite place to kiss is Dick's hands. He loves placing kisses on his knuckles, on the palm of his hands, the top, wrists, fingers, everything

Dick's favorite place to kiss is Slade's jaw. He's at the perfect height to just press his lips there and it's the compromise since Slade doesn't like to have anything at his neck/throat

In turn, Slade likes to wrap his hand around Dick's throat or his nape. Just casually so, they're watching a movie and Slade puts a hand there.

Slade had a trapeze built in a special room in their house

Dick loves to hang upside down from things, the higher the better. Slade had almost had a heart attack the first time he saw him with his legs hooked on the roof

Sometimes when Slade gets jealous he just picks Dick up and walks away with him (he doesn't do it too often because Dick makes fun of him because of that a lot)

They both have uniform kink (I don't make the rules)

Dick starts speaking romani when he's mad. Slade secretly loves it.

There is a fist shaped hole in the wall in their kitchen. They don't talk about it

When Dick has too many cups of coffee during one day, Slade drinks him some of it. Sometimes it results in Dick getting annoyed and making even more coffee, which in turn results in Slade drinking even more of Dick's coffee

Slade has a cup that says "I love your personality but that Dick is a great bonus". Dick was the one who bought it. He loves that it's both a true statement and a pun

They slowdance, all the time. I want them to be disgustingly in love, dancing together in their kitchen at 4am

They buy each other weapons for Christmas and birthdays

Alright, maybe that's enough 😂 I got excited haha I could be going for hours. Thank you for asking, sweet anon!

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, June 9, 2024

My posts

MY ABELIAS HAVE POWDERY MILDEW. We have now acquired a fungicide and sprayed down everything in a six-foot radius of Patient Zero, a crape myrtle that had “mysteriously” not grown much foliage back this year. Thrilling, I know.

If you want to know what post-exertion malaise is, it’s me cleaning for an hour and then being laid out for three days. Coincidentally, I had someone else’s post about chronic fatigue and taking constant breaks in my queue. To round it off, here’s an old post of mine about giving yourself and your fatigue the same grace you’d give other people’s.

Side note, I have realized that mobile now cuts off my profile bio to 

She/her. Classy dame, sparkle consultant, vampire

New followers, I have some very disappointing news for you. 

Reblogs of interest

Pride Month: Spotlight on activist/drag queen Marsha P. Johnson

Related: I think the Pride Moth should become the next Tumblr Animal Mascot.

Great Uncles Angelo and Bill, a love story

The Hot Vintage Lady to Rule Them All: Eartha Kitt. 

Hozier Watch 2024: Here’s “Too Sweet” on--I nearly said “The Colbert Report” and I kind of wish it was. 

Dante inventing the circles of hell: It’s the “Thank you king I am commissioning fan art of you” that always sends me.

The flowered houses of Zalipie, Poland

I have had to get a few crowns because I grind my teeth, and I am very excited about the idea of this tooth regeneration therapy, which my dental insurance won’t cover either. 

Come for the five things food banks want most (money), and stay for the tale of the chaos penny drive.

“One of the most dangerous things we tend to do is treat insights as rules”

Translating Sappho is more complex than you might think

The more you know: a breakdown of the differences between “Rromani,” “Romany,” “Ro[u]manian,” and ethnic slurs in Dracula

Vampire Therapist, available to wishlist on Steam

1000 Books You May Have Actually Read: The implied “you” here is “U.S. readers,” I think. I hit 200 (”better than 86% of users on this list”) because I have read a lot of Shakespeare, “I’m Bella Swan and my hobbies are English class” books, and Stephen King. If you have read YA of the last 20 years, James Patterson, or Colleen Hoover, you will blow past me. 

Video

“The Golden Sandwich, made 95% out of aid package contents, 5% with love and resilience 🍉🚨” 

Hey, so, Adobe is forcing you to agree to let them go through all your shit. Adobe responds, and I don’t believe them. 

Philadelphia Flyers mascot Gritty raising the Progress Pride flag

A guy playing piano and the cat who loves him

“cut to me, playing my horror instrument at 4 am” Okay, but now imagine a hellhound nestled up lovingly against the player of this instrument. 

A roan, a rider, a pride flag, and no tack

The sacred texts

The duality of bun

“Poob has it for you” is probably too new to be a sacred text, but I’m investing

“why are you microwaving carbonated drinks” is not the shocking part

Personal tags of the week

Dune, for some reason, bunnying, and tumblr therapy, a tag that will just body you over and over. 

[fkmarrycill]

One Shot: At Ease

(Not my GIF)

Tommy Shelby x OC

1190 words, 🔞 for implied shagging and naked canoodling 😉

I've finally gotten my act together and finished something! ☺️🙌🏽 It's a one shot, which is the kind of story I write the most. In it, a single version of slightly older Tommy meets with a lover from his past at the local hotel–their regular rendezvous spot. It's tender and a little angsty.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

The phone rang while Ada was talking, and the scowl on Tommy's face softened. There were only a few people who had access to Tommy's direct line, and only one who wasn't family. He assumed it was her, since they hadn't talked in a while.

“Apologies, sister… An urgent call awaits my attention.”

“It's her, isn't it?” Ada smiled the canary-eating grin she always smiled when Tommy was thrust into a situation that tugged at his heartstrings. She welcomed any crack in the stoic demeanor he'd brought back from France after the war.

Tommy sighed, removed his glasses, folded them closed, and placed them on his desk. “I don't know who you think it is, but–”

“–It’s alright, brother,” Ada interrupted with a smirk. “I'll leave you to your secrets and consider myself in charge for the next few days.” She rose to leave the room and smiled a knowing smile, pausing long enough at the heavy wooden door to hear Tommy's quiet but terse “thank you” before closing it behind her as she exited.

He picked up the phone. The conversation was brief. They'd meet at the hotel in an hour. He poured himself a whiskey and lit a cigarette, a short break to shift his mindset before heading out.

***

Tommy lay on his back, on top of the fine white cotton sheets of the king-sized bed, his naked body flush from his emotions as much as from their hungry lovemaking. “Bloody hell, Veronique…” She still made him feel as woozy as opium when they got together.

“It's good to see you again, too.” She winked and kissed him tenderly before hopping out of bed. Rather than the kimono he found her in when he arrived, Veronique donned Tommy's white button-down shirt and sauntered over to the desk. He admired how his shirt accentuated the sun-kissed light brown of her skin. She rifled through her satchel, found a folder, and gave it to him.

He sat up. “And this time, you were in…? Ah, New York,” he said, after seeing the first document, a photograph of the Statue of Liberty. He put on his glasses to examine the scene that was captured in black and white. “Is that Yankee bird as green as they say she is?”

“She's French, like me, but yes. And much, much taller than you,” Veronique teased as she always did, being slightly taller than Tommy.

“But height had fuck-all importance when I was on top of you a few minutes ago, eh? Take my shirt off,” Tommy commanded when Veronique rejoined him in bed.

She complied.

“Mmm… Mine…” He groaned softly and rewarded her with a wet kiss to her neck and his fingers lightly tracing the nipples of her large breasts. Then his hands migrated to her full hips and held her gaze, not with the glare he fixed on most people he encountered, but one of unshakable fondness for his old lover. He brushed her shoulder-length hair aside, cradled her face, and drew a light mewl from her with a kiss much less urgent than the one he delivered when she opened the door.

Veronique was his favorite prostitute in France, one he visited as much as he could on leave and fantasized about when the tunneling and trench life got too bleak. They bonded over being different–Tommy being Romani, and Veronique being biracial–and often scorned by others. Since war time, she'd parlayed her connections into a photography career. It was an unusual choice for a woman, but photography was a cherished hobby she'd picked up from her older brother. Besides, she was used to being unconventional and loved the need for constant travel that came with the job.

She visited Birmingham whenever she could and always brought Tommy photos from her travels. Tommy, for his part, paid for the well-appointed room monthly, giving them an easy way to meet whenever she was in town, plus a second bedroom with heavy curtains and red lighting that served as Veronique's dark room, always stocked with her supplies. She knew he used the main bedroom with other women while she was away, but that was the last of her worries. She'd retired from her old profession, but she still attracted men with ease and chose the best the world had to offer to share her bed, wherever she made it. They cherished the strong connection they'd developed over times of war and peace but could never confine it to conventional rules after everything they’d experienced.

Tommy continued to shuffle through the rest of the photos, settling on one at a nightclub. The patrons were integrated, and the band was Black. He lingered on the photo.

“That one's in Harlem. I had a fantastic time there, always do. I'd love to show you around there one day...”

“Hmm…” was all Tommy uttered as he continued to study the picture.

She massaged his bare shoulders, finding an array of knots to tackle. “You don't get out as much as you used to, do you? The war, your family business, and now the MP role? It has all changed you so much.”

Tommy returned the photos to the folder and placed it and his glasses on the nightstand. He leaned back into Veronique’s capable hands. “You're not wrong… it changed all of us. You, so much for the better. Me, I question it every fucking day...” He closed his eyes and let her hands smooth his pain away.

“You made this possible for me,” she declared, softly kissing his neck as she continued to massage him. “And you damn near single-handedly created a much better life for you and your family. You've gotten everything you wanted, no? Why are you still fighting?”

Tommy had wisely suggested to his superiors that Veronique be recruited as a spy. She was multilingual, and it gave her wealth, power, and favor with her government, having the ability to collect valuable bits of information from the high-ranking German officers who opted for the “French experience" rather than frequent the tents behind their front that were filled with imported German women.

“Let me take care of you, Thomas,” she continued. Her hands migrated from his strong shoulders to his head for a gentle massage.

Tommy’s eyes were still closed, but his mouth hung slightly open, allowing his contented sighs and murmurs to escape and quietly fill the air between them. The feel of her fingers waltzing through his hair and across his scalp was mildly electric and soothing. “I've not been to New York yet, but it does seem like my sort of town.”

“I know you'll love it. And I will get you there one day.”

“One day… Yes...” Tommy shifted to lay on his back, and she snuggled close to him, resting her head on his chest. As she usually did during their trysts, she lazily traced his tattoos with her fingers and told him story after story of her adventures in the city. He asked her questions and listened intently until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off. During their stolen moments was the best he slept these days.