#sports drink manufacturing

[abhabio-technology]

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[moonshynecybin]

if you have the time or inclination, can i ask what the deal with motogp/those boys is about? i don’t mean that in a mean way btw, im just curious and i love drama

i will try to be brief (1/4358)

SO! valentino rossi (born 16 February 1979, aquarius. italian.) is one of the most iconic people in motorsport, CERTAINLY in motogp. he's a 9 time world champion, your favorite driver's favorite driver, and is generally credited with revolutionizing the popularity of the sport by: a. being insanely good at motorcycle racing, and b. in general having a lot of fun about it. lethally charming and charismatic. all time active listening face. just a fun and funny dude that everyone pretty much likes and MANY younger riders idolize. VERY good at handling the media and his legions of cult-like fans. sometimes treated more like a god than a person. i was in the store yesterday and saw one of his themed monster energy drinks despite him retiring two years ago. his fun retirement activity is racing BMWs and running his own motogp team/training facility/cult for young italian racers. (this is where cele and bezz and basically every italian rider not named enea bastianini come from!)

so in 2011ish valentino had won 9 titles, and he decided to leave his current manufacturer and move to italian manufacturer ducati where he generally had a stone-cold terrible time. EXTENDED flop era for a couple years. any time ive watched content that covers this period everyone is so sad. so sad. anyways he GOES BACK to his old manufacturer in 2013 and is much more competitive. kind of just happy to be winning sometimes and be on the podium. 2013 is also where marc comes in. what could go wrong.

marc marquez! (born 17 february 1993, almost exactly 14 years after vale which i'm sure means nothing. also an aquarius. spanish.) childhood sports idols include: dani pedrosa, VALENTINO ROSSI.

marc carved his way up through the feeder championships until casey stoner unexpectedly retired at the end of the 2012 season leaving a seat empty on a VERY good bike for his rookie season. rocked up and was immediately VERY good at winning and very good at being a crazyinsane person on track that made people mad at him lol. hilarious habit of pissing people off via on-track crimes that i really enjoy. motogp riders are already crazy (they do death sport) but marc is famous for taking risks no one else will. basically if he's not winning, he's crashed out or he's maybe crashed YOU out. he wins the championship as a rookie (insane) and the next year's championship as well. heir apparent to the throne. sweet and goofy but is now known as one of the more reserved riders with the press. probably because of all this drama tbh. undisputed GOAT of acting like a slut on camera

throughout 2013-2014, marc and valentino had a good relationship! marc very clearly idolizes him and is like. bowled over completely with delight every time valentino looks his way. vale likes him! theyre buds! truly an endless well of pictures of vale explaining something with his hands and marc babygirling at him. highly recommend checking out @pgaslys every rosquez podium tag for contextual brain damage. insane times.

(IT SHOULD BE NOTED: before the 2015 season marc visits valentino at his practice track in italy, where they compete to break the track record and almost kill each other bc they are so pathologically competitive. APPARENTLY, marc showed up with some official mechanics and valentino was a little pissed off because it was supposed to be a like. fun thing. and to marc winning is the most fun! if you dont come to win why come at all! anyways marc breaks the track record and credits that to cooling their relationship a bit. good post about it here.) here they are that day:

so what could go wrong, right? WELL. valentino has a chance to win his tenth title in 2015. marc is on a flop bike and crashed a bunch so he's not in the championship conversation but vale is leading the standings from the jump, with his main opponent being jorge lorenzo. i think he really wanted that tenth, and dedicated himself to the season in a way he hadnt really ever before (he was a very effortless competitor when he was young. gym-adverse. king).

marc and him start to get into some scraps along the way, notably in argentina (where they made contact and marc crashed out), assen (where they made contact AGAIN and vale won the race), and phillip island (marc won. GREAT race available here for free). phillip island sees vale finishing P4 and jorge lorenzo finishing ahead of him in P3, reducing his championship lead by quite a bit. no real indication of any tension during these races, and they are asked about it!

this is where valentino's delulu era begins! basically, ahead of the next race (🔥🔥SEPANG 2015🔥🔥) in the pre-race press conference, he goes after marc, saying he was deliberately sabotaging valentino in phillip island because marc wanted jorge to win. in valentino's mind. marc wants jorge to win because a. they are both spanish (??) and b. it would mean marc has to win less titles to equal valentino's total. record scratch. freeze frame.

everyone (including marc!) thinks valentino is joking at first bc that is bananascrazyinsane. he was not joking. (it should be noted valentino STILL thinks this lol.) anyways marc is completely blindsided. he thought they were good! yeah they've been chippy on track but that's racing!! truly like. 22 years old and your friend (AND CHILDHOOD IDOL.) is calling you a snake in front of your face with NO prior warning to the entire motogp establishment writ large including your coworkers and REPORTERS. valentino wont even look at him the entire time. the press conference is available here on vimeo. excruciating gifsets of marc's very stiff bewildered PR smile found here.

anyways so. the race. marc is uh. pissed off. he's stuck to valentino like GLUE the entire time and they trade places a bunch of times. now marc is kind of famous for being a little asshole on track anyways, but its not like he's gonna get out of valentino's way and just let him pass after what he said in that press conference so. hand in unlovable hand <3. truly very fun to watch imo even with the sword of damocles hanging over them. marc is fucking on one the entire race and basically refuses to give valentino an inch until vale gets so fed up with his antics that um. well. it certainly looks like he kicked him. vale says he didnt, and that his leg accidently made contact with marc's bike. marcs says. he fucking kicked me. judge for yourself here!

so valentino gets hauled in front of race direction and penalized for the next race (the deciding race for the championship). he has to start from the back of the grid and it kills his chance at a tenth title stone dead. vale places the blame squarely on marc's shoulders and his legions of fans decide marc is public enemy number 1. him and jorge have to get security at the next race because of death threats, someone tries to break into marc's childhood home back in spain, marc's mom throws away all of marc's valentino merchandise from when he was a kid. vale says nothing.

but the thing about marc. is that he loves very hard and chooses his people pretty carefully. didnt really move out of his tiny hometown until he turned 30 and also made his baby brother move in with him kind of guy. so all this is not really enough for him to let go of vale entirely! 2016 is where the pain lives! bc marc is still reaching out and vale himself stays pretty cold for a couple years. they seem to faintly reconcile for a bit but its not anywhere like it was before sepang.

the real nail in the coffin is argentina 2018. another insane race where marc has to start from the back and goes on a rampage through the field and crashes out like three people. i cant remember. this race is also available on youtube for free its very entertaining. every five minutes marc does something insane. vale is one of the people marc crashes out and afterwardshe goes on a big rant about how marc is destroying the sport and is actively dangerous. marc goes to valentino's garage immediately after the race to apologize and vale doesnt even look at him. he gets turned away at the door after vale's best friend/assistant/henchman yells in his face1!!! and thats kind off all she wrote in terms of reconciliation

anyways that's where we are! they are both very much not over it. vale goes on podcasts and is like. in 30 years i will still be mad, im literally never going to get over it it was such a big and unfair thing and i think about it all the time like it was yesterday. and marc (lying) says as time goes by i dont even think about it :) and i care about valentino less and less :))) but yes he hurt me deeply lol. CANNOT stress enough how much this entire thing is now inextricably liked to both of their legacies. the two arguable GOATs of a sport had an epic fleetwood mac-style beatles breakup divorce and everyone wants to talk about it allllll day long including me :)

additional context! really recommend checking out marc's little docuseries he put out this year about his recent struggles with injury. he is so not right in the head and it goes over the valentino drama in ep3. theres also hitting the apex (2015) which goes over the 2013 season (marc's rookie season) and is a really good introduction to all the major players at the time. its like less than 2 hrs long so its not too much of a commitment

also recommend following scholars @babynflames, @its-always-silly-season, @baking-soda, and @f1vegas as well as many others im forgetting rn bc its 2am!

[simp-ly-writes]

Betting on Hearts

Cross-over: Contemporary! Peaky Blinders x The Gentlemen (2024)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Shelby!Reader,

Summary: Being the main face to the (legal*) Shelby Business Empire, you too dabble with the less than legal side when prompted to (against your Brother's wishes). So when a certain Duke and Glass Family start stirring things up on your doorstep, you decide to seduce the duke into compliance but maybe, Eddie had the same idea for you too...

Warnings: 5000~ words, depictions of blood, overprotective siblings, emotional manipulation (seduction), reader is a bit... much. Probably some other tags that I am forgetting

A/N: more notes later.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | read-through and edited.

↳ The Shelby empire was dominant in many industries and with you being among the middle children, just behind your three older brother's, you mainly took to the newer parts of the business but you of course wrangled your way to the darker sides as well no matter how much your family protested (except for Polly, she openly cheered you on before her untimely passing)

↳ You were the Queen of import/export, the face to the Gin company and co-owner to your new digital sports betting app, your younger sister Ada had stepped in to help you manage it all. Using the earnings from the gambling you put it towards the branding and advertisements of your other departments and the greater Shelby corporation

↳ Arthur, the spirited yet your mentally-barley-afloat brother as he drank half the gin you supplied to his section of the business or found himself high as a kite while insisting on keeping your hands as clean as possible, coming with you on every assignment. Arthur maintained his "Garrison" bars across the country, moving on to establish high dining and was currently trying to stick the Shelby name into hotel management.

↳ John, a man that carried a huge heart with his irresistible charm and humor. He (while trying to convince the youngest, Finn to join him) managed the productions and manufacturing of each one of your industries. Supplying the parts, the bottles and ingredients, alongside the construction materials for every one of Arthur's expansions alongside supplying for your... darker dealings. The company, to a degree, was self-sustainable

↳ And of course, you had Thomas, the mastermind of the whole empire and the one you reported every minuscule detail to at the end of the day. You wouldn't call him kind, but he was considerate to a degree. You could always count on him to protect you where other's have failed but that also caused the greatest conflict between the two of you. It was hard, managing family verses business with him, lines always threatening to be crossed as your relationship was strained. Thomas respected you deeply, you had stuck with him when the rest of the family fell apart and offered him new perspectives to cultivating legal business. Yet he was too protective of you, he couldn't stand to lose you and openly admitted that you where his first choice if he needed to choose who would live

↳ In recent times, your family was playing chess against with a rising power called the Glass family who not so suitably started poking their fingers into your sectors, fixing your gambling sites with their newest expansions. You chuckled to yourself within Tommy's house. The men reported on the new business the Glass family had established, a boxing ring as you shoved Arthur in his chair with a teasing smile.

"Remember when you wanted to become a boxer, brother?" Arthur flips you the finger, a frown emerging from his moustache as he pours himself another drink, mumbling about you being a spoiled little brat yet you don't bother to catch the end of it.

The spy coughs, returning all of your attention back as Thomas glares at you both to hold yourselves, John's face has gone red trying to conceal his laughter at the childish faces you pull at him as Thomas throws his hand up, signalling for the man to continue.

"They have been having some difficulties in expanding their weed enterprise as well, we are still trying to get to the bottom of as to why this is as the documentation we have stolen shows nothing out of the sorts." A series of copied folders and photographs are then spread against the hardwood table as your painted nails sort through each stack, categorizing them in sequential order. Your green nail taps on top of a dead mans face thoughtfully stroking his cheek as you look at the bullet hole placed in between his eyes, "And what is the backstory to this incident exactly?" you comment.

The spy looks towards Thomas who already looks bored, there was nothing of significance to be said just yet but this newest bit of information had him raising as eyebrow. "Well, that kill was confirmed to be done by the new Duke of Halstead as I were one of the men stationed to dispose of it."

The spy throws another bundle on the table labelled, "The Duke." You excitedly snatch the manila folder quicker than anyone else at on the table as your eyes dart across every picture and piece of information you can grasp. Captain, Aristocrat, Medals... More Medals, Service, First Place, Honour Roll, Head Boy, Family Strain, oh... Your thoughts pause, cheeks heating when you flick up a stapled bundle of papers, a defined uniform, blue beret. The next page a Polo champion in college and deep black suit for the funeral. Slamming the folder shut, all eyes snap to the sudden noise.

"We are joining the upper echelon of society, brothers! Do let me meet up with him- I promise not to disappoint," you plead, already knowing that you are perfect for the mission. You and the Duke were both public-facing faces with one foot in reality and another in the pits. It would be a simple mission really, you convince yourself and your brothers as they immediately protest to the idea. Step in, seduce, convince him to sign-out and step out- as simple as that.

You look at Thomas, eyes strong, eyebrows furrowed as you level his stare. "You know I'm the only who can properly do this job, Thomas and if it does not work out, we can just kill them off just like the last, right?" The spy departs, bowing his head before speedily turning out of the room as tension only rises in the room, getting caught in your throat as you hitch your breath watching as Tommy's mouth moves into an echoing, "fine."

--

↳ So here you sat, in your covered box from the sun at the races. You clapped joyfully with a smile spreading your cheeks. You tip your hat down, seeing your bets adding up on your card as Ada cheered loudly beside you, leaning over the railing as she praises your chosen racer. Interviews for the sportsmen start as the Jockey casts a wink up at your sister. Ada throws down a business card the he clutches, placing it in his breast pocket with a tap to his chest before continuing to answer the post-race questions.

"Have yourself a date?" you tease out, picking up your spiked lemonade to hide your smile curving up into a knowing smirk. "Well you are one to talk sis, I heard down the grapevine that you had a certain duke chasing after you like Cinderella," Ada rebuttals, fixing herself a drink at the cart as you eye the three shots of vodka she stirs in, "isn't that a bit much for..." you look down at your wrist-watch, "...1PM? We do have dinner at Arthur's later tonight you know."

"We all can use a pick-me-up every now and then," she comments as you hum out, eyeing up your singular shot drink before shifting further down the couch to create space for her as she removes a pillow, placing it on her lap as she kicks off her heels and sets her feet up upon the coffee table. "Now, you didn't answer my question, go on then," she sasses, setting her drink down and leaning closer to you with knowing eyes gleaming into your own.

You roll your eyes, face going red while pushing her face away from your own as she laughs, "So you do have the hots for him!"

"No, its just that a second sun is bursting in my face and plus, we could never work," you retort, now refusing to meet her chasing eyes as she grips your hand. "Oh, come on (name)! details, details! don't leave me hanging here, thats brothers work," Ada presses forward just as your resolve crumbles. You place a hand to the bride of your nose, pinching as you eyes squeeze shut. "I won't repeat myself so listen closely," you start recalling the first day you met Captain and Duke, Edward Horniman.

--

↳ Running around your house, asking various staff members of your estate as to where your old mail had been distributed you felt around the thin papers and pages till you felt weight and lifted out the invitation from the stack. Mr. Johnston's Estate invites you to his quarterly festivities, your fingers trace over the pressed letters and seal before looking towards your closet

↳ You had worn a tailored dress that perfectly accentuated your body for tonights assignment. Within a closer inspection, various hand stitched black branches and birds spread across the top sheer level of fabric set to a black backdrop. Your hair was pinned upwards, showcasing the glowing skin of your neck and upper chest that you spent way too much time blending in with your makeup.

↳ You suitably leaned against the bar-top, feet already sore from the high heels you wore to make your legs appear longer and by the looks around the room, your plan of seduction was already in the works as a woman ordered a drink for the two of you. Her red lipstick simmering brightly under the dim lights, beckoning you in closer yet you held your resolve. Thanking her for the drink while placing a hand on her own before walking towards the neighbouring room. Feeling her stare as you left, you offered her a floating kiss before turning the corner.

↳ The windows were open as you walked down the long hall towards the cheers as multiple guests played various card games within the billiards room, you pulled the sleeves of your dress down further as you dropped the drink on a floating tray- it's sickeningly sweet taste formed a headache as you pinched your temples.

↳ You strolled around the room, smiling at every face that met yours, shaking hands with others as you enjoyed watching every. single. face. fall in recognition to who they were just flirting with. Stuttering apologies, you grew disappointed when their eyes drifted cautiously around the room for a threat of a man, one of your brothers. You scoff at this, turning towards the next.

↳ With the most recent man that was trying to capitalize on the half-attention you were giving him, absent-mindlessly nodding along to his business proposition as you both strolled around the estate, you found yourselves back at the entrance as your eyes snapped over to the late party-goers just making their arrivals, one of them being just the man you were waiting for as he stumbles through the open doors.

His beauty stumps you in person, the blurry pictures you obtained from at the table do not do the man justice as he practically glows under the warm lighting above. His hair tussled in a wind-swept way as your hands itch to fix every strand. Chocolate eyes are all you want to drink in before your attention is being called back as you start to glare at the intrusion.

"So what do you think, Mademoiselle Shelby?" the man asks to you, hand starting to drift up your arm, another on your leg before your eyes snap back down to his face from over the crowd. You rip your arm away from his touch, sending him a cold smile as you fix the lapels of his jacket for him, gripping the suit closest to his neck as you pull him closer to you. Any outside looker would think your reaction to be a romantic display yet by the sweat starting to form at his hairline, you were receiving just the reaction you wanted.

"I have no interest in working with a boy who already starts to sweat at the mere touch of a woman," and with that you drop him, watching as he falls into a group of people who all glare down at him, stepping around as he scrambles out the backdoor. You fix your appearance in your phones camera before making your way towards your mission.

--

Edward Horniman's Perspective

Re-buttoning his suit jacket, he places his keys in the hands of a staff-member while making his way up the stairs. Susie had been waiting for him in the lobby rather impatiently, her foot tapping against the tiled floors as she dully looked at the floral decorations that hug around the vaulted space before her eyes snapped to Eddie form spinning around to face her.

"You look a bit shit," she says while eyeing him up and down, taking notice to the small amount of blood beginning to form at his side with distaste.

"Remind me why we're here?" Eddie states, taking the conversation reigns as he begins to glance around the room. Susie begins walking closer to him, making their way out of the foyer.

"We are here to learn why Uncle Sam wants in to your estate and subsequently our Business," Susan replies, a subtle shake of her head as if ringing out the terrible idea of it all. Her feet start to falter as she instantly notices you stepping into the room behind them both with a champagne flute delicately place in your hand.

"Then whats his business?" Eddie pushes forwards, moving them both through the sea of people as Susie snaps her head back forwards, doing her best to maintain composure and not cause a scene as she allows Eddie to guide her further into the estate.

"Meth. He's made billions from it."

"Then what are you, Susan, a drug dealer with a heart?" Eddie question's, raising a brow as he stops to pick them both up a drink. A small smile spreading across his lips as they chime together before Susie proceeds to down the rest of it.

"Everything alright?" concern now rising in his features as he looks around the room, his gaze stopping, breath intaking sharply at the sight of you. He is unable to tear his gaze away as you turn your head to face him, you offer a small smile. Eyeing the man from his shoes, the seam of his pants, his neck that swallow deeply as your hand rises from your side, up to your collarbones as you delicately play with the necklace you wear. You finally stop at his eyes as you mouth a cheeky hello before turning around back towards the bar.

Susie still remains looking at her now empty drink, unknowing to Eddie's distraction by the sound of the crowd as she continues conversation normally. "We like money just as the next man, but his gear comes with a rather violent price tag. We stay in our lane because comparatively, its a peaceful one. We let him in, carnage will follow."

Susie now looks up, noticing that Eddie had not replied to her speech as she follows his gaze to your back as your fingers play with the lip of your cup. You laugh at whatever the bartender had just said to you before your glass has been topped off once more, you turn around, flashing them both a smile before slowly making your way closer to them.

Eddie takes a step forwards, wishing to meet you halfway before Susie reigns him in, nails digging into the arm of his suit jacket as she pulls him back to her side.

"I don't think you are quite ready for the big leagues, Captain-" Susan warns, looking at the side of Eddies face before he turns back to her, a charming smile accentuating his features before he speaks.

"I just killed a man, Susie. I think I can handle speaking to a woman-"

"Hm, well thats just not any ordinary woman, Edward. That is Miss. Shelby- the possible saviour to every one of our problems if we did not already... push some buttons," Susie states, smile waning as you get progressively closer, many people still try and gain your attention as you hold up your hand, wishing not to be disturbed.

"And there's room to fix that I'm sure, but what exactly did WE do?" Before Susie could answer, your heels are in front of Eddies dress shoes as you extend a hand forwards in greeting. "Miss. Shelby," Susie greets you with a composed look, her smile dropped as she tries to stare through you.

Edward picks up your hand, pressing a kiss on to the back of it as you hold hands for longer than necessary before pulling away. "Your Grace, Miss. Glass," you greet, "a pleasure it is to see you both here tonight." Your voice is like honey, hanging in the air as you smile at them both.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Shelby," Edward replies, noticing Susie's mock indifference as she shifts her weight slightly under your faux-gentle eyes; sharped to a cutting-stare as you strike her down. "You two make a rather charming couple, if I may ask, how recent is this development?" you question, hiding your growing smirk in your drink as Eddie's gaze falls to your lips and the print you leave against the glass, snapping back up to your eyes- yours crinkle in a second greeting.

"You have yourself mistaken, Myself and Miss. Glass are merely business associates," Eddie clarify as you set your glass gently on the bar-top, hand brushing against Eddies bicep in the movement. Your eyes continue to lock on to one another, a silent conversation being played as you lean a bit closer, taking a deeper look at his features as you notice Eddies gaze roam your's own. In that moment, Susie decides to step back into the conversation.

"What does your family want?" she deadpans, eyeing the closing distance between you and Eddie with hardened eyes as her hand threatens to crush the glass in her hand. "Well, by the looks of it, your business had became my business, thanks to your mingling," you charismatically charm, hand hovering on Eddies arm as you adore the jealous look brewing inside her.

"And if you two are merely just associates, I think this calls for a more... personal discussion with the Duke since our businesses are now becoming tied together, is that not tight Susie?" you finish with as Eddie looks between the two of you, undeceiving of who to follow alongside. But by the look of your eyes snapping to his lips once more as you tongue swipes across your own, parting them slightly- his decision is made.

"I will be back in a moment, Susie," Edward says, following in-step as you lead him out of the crowded space. Just as Eddie reaches the hall, he casts his head back, sending Susie a knowing look as if to say, I'm fixing it before disappearing. Susie glares at your lipstick stained glass sat on the counter with distaste before being led towards Mr. Johnston by his assistant.

--

Your Perspective

Success, you cheer to yourself, as you loop your arm around Eddies arm, leading him towards a nearby study you know to be empty. The door softly closes behind you both. In the next moment, you pull Eddies arm to his side, shoving him against the door as it rattles from the impact.

Eddie's eyes are blown wide as he hisses out slightly in pain, forgetting about the gun-shot wound before becoming distracted by the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Your heels make you tall enough to capture his lips into a delicate battle of heated touches, your skirt being bunched up by Eddies hands, your gentle caresses of the stubble of his cheeks as playful bite his lower lip, wishing to explore more.

Gasping for air as you pull away, you further taint his skin a deep red to match his lips you coated in your lipstick. Pressing a kiss at the side of his mouth as he whispers out a tease before you trail over to his cheek, paving a way to his chin and down his neck as his head raises, exposing more skin for your greedy lips. He grips your hips, keeping you in place as you suck a mark onto the base of his neck. A soft moan escaping between his lips before an equally greater hiss as blood continues to pour out of his side.

You take a step back, gently opening his jacket, your eyes cast upwards, through your lashes as you playfully pout. You place a palm at his inner thigh, watching as his eyes grow in size as your hand drifts just past the growing bulge in his pants- stopping slightly before the wound as you hum out thoughtfully while looking at it.

"My, my, your grace. Whatever do you have here?" You rhetorically ask before pressing your hand into the opening, listening as he hisses out, hands swiftly moving off your hips and onto your hand as they pull your touch off of him side.

"You little fucking temptress," Eddie curses out, eyes darkened as his tongue sweeps over his lips, you take a few steps back. The Duke presses himself off the wall, taking wide strides as your hands begin to sweat yet you do not break eye contact. Continuing to swiftly walk backwards as best you can in heels before tripping over a rug and falling against the back of a chair.

Eddie's arms cage you in against the chair, your breath hitching as he places his face within the crook of your neck. His facial hair tickling your skin, a soft burn forming with every word he speaks, "Now tell me, Miss. Shelby, what is it you want from me?"

You swallow. Hard. Knuckles turning white at the force you grip the chair with before trying to compose yourself, a shaky breath you exhale conceal in a moan. Pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, "I want you to kiss me, Eddie," you murmur, hand fixing those curls you wanted to from the start. Your fingers curl around a few strands within an instant as Eddie sucks a bruise to your neck, licking the area afterwards. "What are you here for?" he questions once more as you shake your head, wondering how far you can truly push this.

"No. That was not a proper kiss, sir. Kiss me." You state again, taking a deep breath in as victory when Eddie pulls away, eyes boring into your own, blood now tainting the band of his pants as your eyes flicker down to it. Your chin is gripped as Eddie pulls you into that proper kiss you were begging for but he pulls away too quickly as you press your lips together to hide your frown. Your cheeks were warm, hair a mess, your chest raises up and down like you had just ran a mile.

Edward appears in the same state as he stumbles back, hand gripping his side, eyes tipping down to your chest before snapping back up with a cold look- you needed to answer, couldn't have your signature bleeding out before he could sign.

"I need you out of my bettings, your grace," you breathily state, hand placed on your chest as you feel your heart-rate still bumping fast. You take deeper intakes of air, feeling for your heart starting to slow as you watch Eddie crunch over, blood-loss starting to make him go dizzy.

You swiftly stand and hobble towards the desk, finding a first aid kit in one of the lower drawers as you unknowingly bend down in front of Eddie as he curses you out once more, you look back, murmuring an apology before standing up straight and beginning to make work of his clothes, jacket off, tie discarded and shirt unbuttoned, you pluck the remnants of the bullet out from his side.

Eddie grits his teeth together, hands curled into fists as he watches you work, your tweezers poking into his muscle. "If you would stop watching me so closely, maybe I could focus more and poke you less," you sass, looking up at his while blowing the hair out of your eye. Eddie fixes the stand behind your ear before raising his hand once more. "Well just a minute ago you were practically on your knees begging for me to look at you," Eddie responds with a smirk, you huff and maintain your work, gathering the last bits of metal before treating the area and wrapping his torso snuggly.

The Duke's blood stains your hands as you look down at them thoughtfully. The thick liquid cascades off your fingertips, falling onto your dress, marking a pair of birds. "You owe me a new dress," you say, wiping your hands with the small cloth the kit provided before taking a stand. You start to walk away before Eddie grasps your arm, you pause mid-step, feet now plated in wait.

"Thank you, Miss. Shelby. I will sign to never fix a game with your business if you promise to have a meeting with Miss. Glass and I," Edward compromises, letting go of your arm and watches as you walk towards the exit, "I don't think you are in any position to make compromises, nevertheless demands, Edward. But... I'll keep you updated on my decision," and with that you close the door softly behind yourself for him to get dressed. Pressing your forehead to the wooden surface, you grip your hands into fists before settling your head up high as you descend the stairs and move towards the coat room. You sneak your keys and coat before slipping out the side door and walk towards your car.

A series of hastened footsteps against the gravel have you rolling down the window to your Range Rover, foot on the brake, hands on the wheel- ready to make haste. You do your best not to be surprised when the Duke's face greets you on the other side, a I know something you don't smile resting on his features as you raise a brow to it.

"We never exchanged contacts," he states to you casually, as if it were the weather. You hum out, analyzing his statement while look out the windshield before looking back at him. Light rain begins to fall as you press a lingering kiss to his cheek, "I will find you in due time, you and Miss. Glass. Have a good night, your grace." And with that, you roll up your window, and drive off underneath the moonlight.

--

You take a deep sip of your drink as Ada sits still, mouth open as you swear to be losing circulation to you hand. Pins and needles start to form at your fingertips form how tightly she holds onto your hand. "Fuck, sis. Sounds like you got him good," Ada says, barley able to conceal her smile.

Shaking your head you take a deep sip of your near melted lemonade before clearing your throat and checking for the time, it would be an hour's drive from here, you both had to leave soon. "Well even if I have managed to, 'get him good...'" you raise your hands in quotations, starting to mock even the idea of you two together yet your heart speaks otherwise, beating rapidly in your chest as you recount the feeling of his lips on yours. The small hickey on your neck still bruised as you wonder if his has healed since then.

Ada raises a brow, watching as you absent-mindedly reach up towards your mark, fingers circling around the mark as you continue to speak, "...Tommy would never allow it-"

"Fuck what Tommy thinks, he's not you. Do YOU want to see him again?" Ada cuts you off, a serious look taking over every feature, tightening into sharp lines- as if daring you to say else-wise.

You refuse to meet her eyes, looking outside to the near empty tracks, "I mean..."

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung @surazim

↳ A/N: What did you all think? I am quite happy with this being a standalone but I am willing to write a pt.2. If you have any ideas as to where it could go- send an ask, DM, or comment and I'll see what can be done further :) (i'm also taking a break soon... maybe... probably).

[star-anise]

So I've been watching this series of videos where a research-focused psychologist goes through Jordan Peterson's work to see which of his ideas and arguments are based on solid empirical evidence. I love it, even though she does mistakenly say his background is in counselling psychology (my field) when he's actually a clinical psychologist.

Anyway, that's got me thinking about Jordan Peterson, and how his response to criticism is, "People have been after me for a long time because I’ve been speaking to disaffected young men — what a terrible thing to do, that is. [...] I thought the marginalized were supposed to have a voice.”

So, here's my theory: Young men of the 21st century have grown up in a culture that is specifically hostile and punitive towards them. However, I think that while girls and women can participate in this culture, it is as much or more the work of boys and men. And I think that the problem with Peterson is that he's not particularly good at helping his audience escape the maze they are trapped in--and he's absolutely opposed to any attempt to dismantle a maze that is actually of fairly recent manufacture.

Case in point: The metrosexual.

The word "metrosexual" was coined in 1994 by Mark Simpson, a gay writer whose settings seem to be perpetually fixed at "critique the shit out of it".

"Metrosexual" describes heterosexual men who might be mistaken as gay, because they are interested in things very common among gay men, including: Caring about whether they're attractive; caring about how their hair is cut and what products they use in it; caring about what clothes they wear; working out to make their bodies look better; frequenting nightclubs. To be "metrosexual" was, in some people's opinions, to be a "man-boy" searching for his "inner girl".

To be metrosexual was, in some ways, to be called someone who looked gay.

The term didn't really catch on until the early 2000s, when media became briefly obsessed with talking about which celebrities were "metrosexual" or not. In that era of hotly divided opinions over the acceptability of homosexuality and queerness, it was implicitly asking, "Who looks gay? Is he gay? Tell me, fellow broadcaster: How gay does this guy look to you?"

(They got to have their cake and eat it too. A liberal audience, desperate to gather as many LGBTQ+ people and allies as possible in their race for 50% acceptance of gay marriage, cherished any signs that people with social clout might be on their side. And a conservative one, watching the same discussion, would heartily enjoy seeing a rogues' gallery of degenerate Hollywood types paraded before them, their every effeminacy pointed out in loving detail.)

Which of course got us: The Retrosexual!

When everybody's helpfully compiling lists of all the things a man can do that look gay or unmanly, dudes who don't want to get the shit kicked out of them by homophobes know all the things not to do!

Therefore, being "manly" became strictly defined by what was off-limits. To be a Real Man meant you shouldn't care about whether you're attractive, or what soap you use, or how your hair is styled. You shouldn't enjoy dancing or get too enthusiastic about music. A Real Man cares about sports and beer and being on top! Dominant!! A WINNER!!!

And, so like, here's a secret: In Anglophone culture, we are very affected by the Puritan legacy that says pleasure is inherently sinful. Vanity and pride--caring about how you look and whether you're attractive--are literal gateways to the Devil. Gluttony, and therefore seeking pleasure at all, is another such. And in Puritan religious theology, women are inherently more sinful. Yes, it goes back to Adam and Eve, and how Eve was tempted into sin first. Long story short, things associated with women became associated with sinfulness, and sinfulness became associated with effeminacy. And for centuries, you haven't even needed to be religious to drink these attitudes from the groundwater.

Okay, that's not the secret, this is the secret: Pleasure is not inherently sinful.

And liking how you look and feeling attractive and paying attention to your sensuality and your emotional life and connecting with art in a real and vulnerable way can feel really good, if you're able to handle it well.

Being raised to be a Real Man in a world where masculinity is perceived to be actively under threat is so uniquely painful, I believe, because every attempt to define yourself as "not gay" means denying yourself one of life's pleasures, and telling yourself you never even wanted it in the first place.

And then those desperate to be Real Men found a way to take some of those things back in what is surely the most painful context possible: They are allowed strictly as tools of your heterosexuality and masculine need for dominance. You are allowed to care about grooming and dancing, etc, purely as a strategy in playing a game called "Getting Girls", where you either score or you don't, where not scoring means you're worthless and unlovable, and scoring is often... strangely unfulfilling and certainly not enough to fill the aching void inside of you.

The mistake both Peterson and his fanbase make is that they get to this point, and then think: The reason I feel so empty inside is... I just haven't gotten enough girls!

Maybe some guys get out of the maze by finding a woman who is allowed to care about things like affection and love and dancing and looking nice, and their connection with her lets them express all the other parts of their souls that didn't fit in the Real Man box, but can come out in roles like Boyfriend or Father.

But humans aren't telepathic, so relationships can only "fix" you so much as you're willing to do the work of nurturing your own soul in a safe environment, so for a lot of men the maze never ends, and sometimes they don't even get the fleeting joys of relationships or sex, since they're so fucked up about them!

At this point, I as a queer woman am like, "Solution's obvious! Dismantle the maze."

And Peterson, who has worked his whole life to achieve the status of Best Maze-Runner in All of Christendom, is clinging to it like, "NO! DOWN, YOU DARK CHAOTIC MOTHER! THIS MAZE GIVES MY LIFE MEANING! THIS MAZE CONNECTS ME TO MY FOREFATHERS! I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT THIS MAZE!"

At which point, like... what can you do but just leave him there?

At least he's not in my area of specialization. The world would be too unkind if I had to deal with him in any professional capacity. I wish Clinical Psychology all their continued joy of him.

[butchpillowprince]

Freshly manufactured butch again, and thank you for the answer before!! Would you actually have some advice for newly identified butches? Things you wish someone would have told you years ago when you first started out?

Thanks again!

You're welcome, and thanks for stopping by again! :) I love this question.

My advice for my past self when I was first transitioning toward androgyny/masculinity:

When you spend months dwelling on whether or not to cut your hair short, that's your sign to cut off all your hair. Do it.

Ditch your women's clothes, especially the pants (no pockets) and the panties (ugh) and the bras (barf). It's okay to embrace your natural chest and just wear sports bras. One day you'll even wear a binder and make yourself flatter. Remember when you were a feminine teenage girl and your flat chest was your biggest insecurity? Yeah. Now you love it. :) And you're not a girl, lol.

Buy the bowties and neck ties. The men's dress shirts and shoes. When it's time for your next wedding, go to a tailor for your first suit. Life is short, get the rainbow hair for Pride. Your first relationship won't last, but being in butch4butch love, even fleeting, will change and heal you. Your first butch4butch hookup will too. And no, they won't be the same person, sorry.

Read George's Boi. Explore your butch4butch sexuality. When George's Boi inspires you to write erotica, fucking go with it.

Queer community will also heal you. Keep seeking it out even when you don't find it in certain cities or spaces. Be yourself. Explore yourself. Question your gender. Try new names and pronouns if the idea tickles your fancy. Even if you end up being cis at least you reflected on yourself, and who knows, maybe you'll learn something new about you.

Butch community is hard to find but surprisingly easy to build. When you have ideas for a new butch project, just do it. Make it happen and you'll watch friends and community appear beside you.

It's okay to not be hypermasculine or the butchest butch in the room. Embrace the masculinity that is authentic and comfortable for you. Don't feign interest in hobbies or drinks or mannerisms that aren't really yours, don't worry over measures of physical strength or ability, don't feel pressure to top during sex exclusively or even at all, don't worry about not fitting a certain body type or stereotype. You're butch which means you're another beautiful iteration of butchness. And, it's okay to stop calling yourself "soft butch" because you feel like you're not butch enough to just claim the word "butch" alone. You are butch. You are. You are. You are.

I'm proud of you. Welcome home.

[forherheart]

it’s been so long - william afton [intro]

pairing: william afton x fem!bodied reader

warnings: smut, degradation, dub-con, non-con, use of alcohol, use of drugs, abuse, age gap, underage

summary: hurricane, utah was a relatively quiet city. home of young new families and older generations looking to spend their final days in peace. that was until a new family eatery opened right in the heart of the town.

the afton’s were a handsome family consisting of five members who each came with their own quirks.

there was evan. a young boy who had dark sandy hair and hazel eyes. he could always be seen with his stuffie in the crook of his arm as if the yellow bear had been his protector.

the afton’s only daughter was a young lady named elizabeth, she was just as precious as the meaning of her name. she resembled her mother in more ways than one with long golden hair and piercing green eyes.

their final child had been given the name michael. michael was an irritable teenager who strongly resembled his father though he never got along with the man. he sported disheveled long brown hair and brown eyes just like his younger brother.

there was then of course the woman who tied the whole family together; a petite woman named clara who stood just a mere five feet tall with short blonde hair that fell just to her shoulders. she was a bubbly woman; quite the opposite of her husband.

last but certainly not least was the patriarch of it all…william afton. the lanky man stood almost a foot and a half taller than his wife. he styled his dark brown hair slicked back with stubble to match.

-

william afton was a proud man. ever since he was young he was taught to never ask for help and to never show any sign of weakness. this helped him very much as he struggled his way through school but ended up as one of the most successful graduates.

william and clara got married young once they found out they were pregnant with their first child. they married in a courthouse and very soon after moved from the outsides of south hampton, england to a small city in utah.

the pair hadn’t known anyone so when william went to work for a semi threatening manufacturing factory clara stayed at home spending almost every day with little to no adult contact.

william left for work at five in the morning, he left the house quietly completely disregarding his wife of any affection and clocked in around five-thirty. william left for the bar after work at five-thirty. working twelve hours days was demanding and hard to do but it beat staying home with his newborn.

william typically spent the rest of his nights at a dingy bar just a few blocks away from the home that occupied the two members of his family. william would drink himself silly almost every single day and eventually head home around two o’clock in the morning. until one day.

william hadn’t even made half his way through a tall glass of gin when he heard the boisterous voice of what he would to know as his business partner; henry emily.

emily was a jolly man. he had rosey cheeks and flaxen messy hair that fell across his forehead. he was a meaty man who showed a certain amount of confidence that william had been looking for in a confident. so, when the man sat just a few seats next to him in a bar he had all the intentions to start up a conversation with him.

[project-sekai-facts]

I feel like its obvious why, but why exactly was it seen as so weird that Shizuku kept miso soup in a thermos to drink during practice?

during that scene MMJ had just finished a dance practice and Minori spilt her bottle of water, so shizuku offered her drink to minori... only it wasn't water, it was soup. people found it so weird because not only is soup a strange thing to take with you to physical training instead of water or a sports drink, but also because shizuku was always marketed as a "beautiful idol who can do anything" when she was in CheerDays, and bringing soup of all things instead of a sensible drink isn't something that manufactured persona would ever do.

[koi-koi-fish]

Youjo Senki college AU part 2

Zettour:

Business professor. Grandpa energy. Well liked and respected by students. Though Tanya is his best and favorite student he's still professional enough to not focus on her and gives all his students equal attention. If anything he gives Tanya less attention because he knows she can handle herself. Enjoys debating Tanya on economics and business practices. Wine connoisseur.

Rudersdorf:

History professor. Best friends with Zettour and they frequently go golfing together smoking cigars and drinking whisky (Zettour prefers wine). Though Tanya is his best student his favorite student is Neumann, however he dislikes that Neumann is a stoner. Former heavyweight boxer and occasionally gives Neumann advice. Super into sports, especially football. Part time coach for his grandson's football team.

Ugar:

Student counselor. In his early thirties, happily married, and has a 3 year old daughter. Is aware of Tanya's circumstances and feels bad for her. Hired Tanya part-time as a babysitter (Tanya is actually good at it). During holidays he invites Tanya over to spend time with his family (Tanya occasionally accepts. She mostly spends time with Visha). This is as far as he goes in giving Tanya special treatment. Like Zettour, he's professional enough that he doesn't neglect the other students.

Lergen AKA Rerugen:

Dean. Is the only one that knows Tanya is a troublemaker but doesn't have the evidence to prove it. Though he doesn't irrationally hate Tanya he believes she's up to no good. Dislikes Shugal and his lack of safety regarding students and his experiments. Believes nothing good will come from Tanya and Shugal working together and that Tanya will become a weapons manufacturer for the US military having Shugal design the weapons.

Shugal:

Engineering professor. may or may not have a time machine. Used to be an atheist but after a near-death experience became a hardcore Christian. Likes to have Tanya test out his contraptions because she's small and light so has the smallest affect on performance. Makes Tanya pray before testing his experiments (which is why Tanya hates him). Is aware that Tanya hates him but doesn't care. Shugal respects that Tanya is pragmatic enough to work with someone she hates (him) to get things done. Shugal convinced Tanya to work for him by giving her a couple hundred thousand dollars (which she put into investments) and promising her that once she founds her own business she can have some of his patent rights and sell his inventions.

[celestial--sapphic]

I thought it would be fun to create graphic versions of all the signs, letters, notes, newspaper clippings and other documents which feature in my Poppy Sweeting x f!MC fic Kiss me (like you wanna be loved) 🎨

This sign features in the first chapter when Poppy and Evelyn visit the Three Broomsticks and the pub is rather busy because Sirona is having to get rid of a lot of her stock.

You can read a snippet of the scene where it features below the cut ⬇️

“Hello, my young friend.” Sirona greets her, cheery but clearly tired, blowing a lock of hair out of her face with a puff of her lips. “What can I get for you?” 

“Two butterbeers please. You are busy tonight?” Evelyn replies, her head nodding to gesture behind her, again having to raise her voice to her heard by the witch. 

“Well, I put someone, ” her eyes twitch to the man serving at the other end of the bar. A dark-haired fellow who only looked a bit older than a seventh year and sports a rather pathetic attempt at a beard, “in charge of the stock order this week. ‘I got it so cheap, Sirona! Your usual supplies are ripping you off! ’.” She says in a mock gruff voice as her wand swishes and butterbeer poured into the glasses. “Turns out this incredibly cheap supplier is selling off products that are due to go out of date very soon, in other words: tomorrow . Got to sell off the lot before then or regardless of how cheap it was, it will still put me in the red. Hence, tonight’s offers.” Annoyance bordering on anger clear in her tone, as she points her thumb to a chalkboard behind her which reads in clear capital letters: 

!! ONE TIME OFFER !!

THREE-FOR-ONE BUTTERBEER

THREE-FOR-ONE SIMISON STEAMING STOUT

FIVE FOR THREE SHOTS OF FIREWHISKY 

GILLYWATER: HALF-PRICE

(No refunds) 

“Alcohol doesn’t go off that quickly?” Evelyn questions curiously. “Or is it different in the wizarding world?” She spent a lifetime – well, from the age of four anyway – living with her Aunt Marianne who is the landlady of the Five Stars, a pub in north London. Having to lug about stock, clean the tables and polish glasses as a child before moving on to serve on the bar when she turned twelve had given her rather solid knowledge of the intricacies of running a Public House. It’s a topic she and Sirona had often chatted about and shared comparisons between the muggle and wizarding worlds.  

“No, no, absolutely not.” Sirona shakes her head, three glasses of butterbeer landing in front of Evelyn. “It certainly doesn’t, but under Department of Intoxicating Substances rules I can’t sell anything that is out of its manufacturer use-by-date. It would be totally fine to drink but rules are rules. So, I’m in a bit of a rock and hard place. Thus, this.” Her hand gives an indicating sweep around the heaving pub. 

“I guess there are worse things than having a busy business?” 

A dejected sigh: “There are better things too, like everyone paying full-price.” 

[heliads]

Separation

Based on this request: "Y/n is Bree’s Twin Sister. Y/n is dating Wyatt except her parents didn’t know, one night Wyatt snuck in at midnight until her parents saw and took him away. Her friends teamed up & went to get Y/n & told her they will save Wyatt. Y/n told her parents that Wyatt is not a monster he is the love of her life & her parents accepted their relationship."

a/n in the original request sent to me by someone on wattpad, wyatt was literally jailed for being seen with reader (and he proposed at the end??) so great liberties were taken to,,, not do that,,,

masterlist

It is very important to be normal in a town such as this one. Seabrook fosters its complacent children, nourishes them on the drink of supposed independence and keeps them hemmed in by clipping their wings each and every time they try to fly. This is not a place of doers, only of dreamers. Sometimes that’s enough for people. Sometimes it isn’t.

It makes no sense that a town blessed with the two perfect parts of a story, the monsters who run wild and the heroes who live vicariously through them, would cut themselves off from a wonderful existence by trying to separate one half of its populace. The zombies were the first to be kicked aside, and although they were tentatively welcomed back recently, the werewolves are the next to be removed.

Tensions are highly fraught, nerves as tightly wound as a spool of wire. One day, they’re all going to snap, and then what will come of your perfectly manufactured town? The supposedly perfect ones have all taken up pastels as their chosen colors; the blood will not wash out easily, the stain will always be seen.

War has forever been a distant foe, however, an ending that both parties would rather avoid. Conflict only leaves scars, it never heals. Both the monsters and the townspeople prefer to find a solution that doesn’t avoid fighting. It is unfortunate, then, that solutions from both sides are so drastically different.

The humans want a more palatable existence. It is easy to forget that people are different if you force them to blend into your society. They’ll be forced to cut away every part of themselves that doesn’t fit within the ‘normal’ box, and after that, everything will be fine.

The zombies and werewolves, on the other hand, want to be proud of themselves. They desire a life for them, not for the humanized versions of themselves. Is it really so much to ask for a world that could stand to look them in the eyes for longer than a second? Yes, Seabrook whispers back, yes it is.

That leaves everyone in some sort of transient middle ground, a constant escalation of tensions that can only end badly. Everyone’s waiting for the pin to drop, the first blow that will finally let the battle begin in earnest. All anyone needs is an excuse, and then things can really get going.

In the meantime, while everyone waits for proof that they were right all along, you’re doing your best to imagine yourself in a world that’s significantly more welcoming. You were one of the first to greet the zombies with open arms and hearts. You befriended Zed, Eliza, and Bonzo along with your close friend Addison and your twin sister Bree.

Everyone told you that you were making a mistake for trying to get to know the zombies, but you can gladly prove them wrong now. Zed and the others are some of your best friends. Sure, you might not have green hair to match, but that doesn’t stop you from having the exact same sense of humor or spirit to do well in school or sports. They’re good people, and the fact that they aren’t human should not be enough to automatically disqualify them from the life they deserve.

Now, you’re doing the same thing with the werewolves. Funnily enough, Zed initially distrusted the werewolves once they first arrived, but you’ve never doubted them. They’re just another group in Seabrook, ready for a shot at making the life they want so desperately.

You’re not just interested in the welfare of the werewolves for the sheer purpose of making new friends, though. Truth be told, you’re far more attached to one werewolf in particular than any other, and that boy would be Wyatt Lykensen. It only took you a few weeks to start liking him in earnest, and ever since you’ve been unable to let him go.

As it turns out, Wyatt feels the exact same way. You don’t know that you’ve ever felt happier than when Wyatt first asked you out, but now you get to experience that same joy every single day that you can wake up and know that he loves you just as much as you love him.

The only problem is that the rest of Seabrook does not feel quite so delighted with the whole affair as the two of you. Seabrook may avert its eyes when letting werewolf students through the door of its high school, or tolerate neighbors who aren’t human with all the barely restrained impertinence it can manage, but it draws definite lines in the sand when it so desires.

This, as it turns out, would be one of such instances. Addison, Bree, Zed, and the rest of your friends all know about the fact that you’re dating Wyatt, but no one else does. That’s as much for your personal safety as the threat of judgment. You know it’s for the best, but you hate feeling like you have to hide the best part of your life like some terrible secret.

It’s eating away at you, the constant spread of white lies designed to shield you. You end up spending sleepless nights thinking about what it could be like to live in the bright light of the truth, to exist in a world that wouldn’t hate you just for who you love.

On one of such nights, you can bear it no longer. The rest of your family is asleep, so you have no qualms about texting Wyatt. You didn’t ask him to visit, but when you hear a series of sharp raps on your window within about ten minutes, you certainly don’t mind throwing open the sash and letting Wyatt in.

His arms are around you in a matter of moments, and just like that, you feel infinitely better.

Wyatt laughs against your hair. “Lonely, are we?”

You swat him on the shoulder, but you can’t find it within yourself to put much ire into the gesture. “You’re the one who rushed over here.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt says, very pleased with himself, “I did. I’m very glad I did, too. I couldn’t have my best girl moping around for no reason, could I?”

“No,” you smile, “you couldn’t. I’m glad you came.”

Wyatt nods, pulling away slightly so he can get a better look at you. “What’s wrong, Y/N? You’ve been so strong this whole time, what happened?”

You sigh. “I’m just sick of all this, you know? I hate running around and hiding. I just want to love you without having to feel like I’m committing a crime. Is that really so bad?”

Wyatt lets out a slow breath. “You know I want you more than anything, and if you feel like you want to tell people, I’d do it without a second thought. I just need to know that you’re not going to get hurt by this. I don’t want people talking badly about you behind your back.”

You grimace. “That’s going to happen anyway.”

Wyatt gives you a lopsided half smile. “Doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“I know,” you begin, but your voice drops off when Wyatt holds up a hand.

“Wait, what was that?” He asks.

Your brow furrows. “What was what?”

Wyatt cocks his head to the side, listening hard, and his eyes widen. “Someone’s coming.”

You feel a knot of panic twisting in your stomach. “You have to go. Now!”

Wyatt starts to lunge back towards the window, but it’s too late. The door to your room is flung open, and you’re greeted with the terrifying sight of both your parents standing over the threshold.

Their faces contort in twin expressions of horror. “What is he doing here?” Your father demands.

From the emphasis he puts on the pronoun, you’d think that your father was referring to a convict or criminal, not a fellow student, and especially not the boy you love.

Wyatt’s face pales. “I’ll be going now. Sir.”

Your father shakes his head. “Not a chance.”

Before either of you can do anything, your father grabs Wyatt by the arm, pulling him back out of your room and down the hall, where they disappear out of sight. You try to follow them, but your mother holds you back. No matter how much you plead for her to let you go, she stands firm until you can hear nothing more.

They refuse to tell you what happened to Wyatt. In fact, you have no idea if your boyfriend is even alright until school the next day. You show up to Seabrook High in a state of complete disorder. The entire night, you were plagued with fears that he had been seriously hurt, all because you missed him.

Addison rushes to your side the second she sees you. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“You look terrible,” Zed asks helpfully. He changes his tune once Addison elbows him sharply in the ribs. “Ouch! I mean, you look scared. Is everything alright?”

“No,” you say miserably, “I was up late talking with Wyatt last night and my parents found out. My dad dragged him out of my room and I have no idea what happened to him. I’m terrified that–”

Your voice breaks off, and your friends’ faces twist in expressions of identical horror. Before anyone can try to lie and assuage your fears for the time being, the doors to the school open and the very boy you’ve been wanting most to see walks in.

If Zed thinks you look terrible, Wyatt must be on an entirely different level. The hollows under his eyes are dark, and he shuffles as he walks, like something had happened to him to stop him from being able to stand or even exist normally. What’s more, as he limps past you, he averts his eyes, and puts as much distance in between the two of you as possible.

Even though the two of you have been previously hiding your relationship, you have at least been able to be friends. Wyatt avoiding you now is certainly not a good sign.

Zed winces. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with him. You stay here.”

You don’t know that you could move if you tried. Addison pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Hey, I’m sure it’s going to be okay. Don’t assume the worst until we know for certain what happened, alright?”

You nod haltingly. “I think it’s going to be pretty bad regardless. Look at him, Addison. He won’t even acknowledge that I’m here.”

You watch as Zed approaches Wyatt. Although you can’t hear exactly what is being said, you can see that Wyatt looks unwell. He moves slowly, unwilling or perhaps unable to commit to any great display of strength.

Soon enough, Zed is jogging back to you. “Your dad took him to the Z-Patrol,” he relates, “they shook him up real good.”

Your hand flies to your mouth. “Is he okay?”

“Not really,” Zed winces, “but he doesn’t blame you, trust me. He made me promise that I’d tell you that. It’s just that they are watching him to make sure he doesn’t get any closer to you, and he really, really doesn’t want to find out what they’d do to him if he broke that rule.”

You lean back against your locker, feeling completely devastated. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought him to my house. I knew exactly how it would turn out.”

“No, you didn’t,” Addison says soothingly, “none of this is because of you. Wyatt knows that, we all do. Wyatt made the choice to show up. Besides, I think I have an idea as to how we can fix this.”

You glance at her questioningly. “And how’s that?”

Addison allows a small smile to cross her face. “We petition the Z-Patrol themselves. I’ve had my experience of wrangling with them back when I first started dating Zed. Trust me, I can get them to leave you and Wyatt alone.”

You nod. “Let’s do that as soon as we can.”

After school you, Bree, Addison, and the rest of the friend group hurry over to the headquarters of the Z-Patrol. Addison leads the way inside, and you take the fact that the chief officer groans upon seeing her arrive as proof that she has indeed spent a lot of quality time getting her way in here.

“What do you want this time?” The officer asks, irritated.

Addison crosses her arms across her chest. “I need you to back off of Wyatt Lykensen.”

“No can do,” the officer grumbles, “the L/Ns said they wanted him kept away from their daughter. That would be you, I’m assuming?”

You nod when he points at you. “Yeah, and I want the restraining order gone. He’s not a danger, trust me.”

The officer glowers. “Rules are rules. I’m not lifting that thing.”

Addison’s brow furrows. “We’re not leaving until you do. Wyatt is a good person. Get rid of the order.”

It only takes half an hour of Addison badgering the officer for the order to be removed. According to her, that’s a personal best, which makes you wonder just how long she’s been in there before. She certainly seemed confident that you would succeed, if that’s any indication.

Once you have signed and documented proof that it’s alright for you to see Wyatt again, you all but sprint back to the home of the werewolves. Willa greets you there, and although she looks hesitant to let you inside, she backs off quickly when she sees you’ve got proof that it’s alright for you and Wyatt to be together again.

“He’s been absolutely crushed by this,” she whispers as the two of you walk, “although I have to say that you look pretty rough too.”

“I just want him back,” you say, “he didn’t deserve any of this.”

“I know,” Willa says after a pause, “but you didn’t either. Come on, he’s right in there. Go give him the good news.”

You don’t make her repeat it. You rush into Wyatt’s room. It takes him a few moments to realize what’s happened and that it’s okay to be together again, but after that initial discovery, he’s beaming ear to ear. He catches you up in a hug and you can finally, finally start feeling better again.

You spend quite a bit of time just talking with Wyatt and making sure that he’s alright. After that, he insists on walking you home. All goes well and you’re having a wonderful time just being with him again until the two of you linger a little too long at your door and your parents show up again. They look ready to throw a fit again until you hold up a hand. This time, you’ll be standing your ground. 

“Don’t,” you say decisively, “I’m not leaving him. I don’t care what you do, I don’t care what you do, I’m not leaving him.”

Your father’s face is stony. “He’s a werewolf.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “And, unfortunately, I’m not. It would be extraordinarily cool if I was, but I’m not.”

Your father blinks in surprise. “But you were born a human?”

“And Wyatt was born a werewolf. Neither of us can change, so we don’t hold it against each other. Why should you?”

Your father opens his mouth to argue, but your mother steps forward again. “You’re sure you love him?”

You nod. “More than anything.”

By your side, Wyatt breaks out into a radiant smile, one that can’t be stopped even when your father directs the full force of his glare towards your boyfriend.

Your mother nods once. “Alright, then. If you’re so sure, why would we stop you?”

Your father blinks in surprise. “What?”

Your mother spreads her hands. “I’d rather know it’s happening than have these two sneaking around our backs all the time. Besides, we haven’t actually seen Wyatt do anything wrong yet, have we?”

It looks like your mother may have felt more than a small shred of remorse over sending Wyatt away that night. You’re certainly not going to argue against it.

You beam at Wyatt as your parents walk back into the house. “That actually went pretty well.”

Wyatt chuckles. “Yeah. I like it when you try to be intimidating. It’s very cute.”

You pretend to frown. “I thought I was doing a good job of being scary.”

“To anyone else, maybe,” Wyatt grins, “I can see right through it, though.”

You arch a brow. “Can you really?”

“Very much so,” Wyatt assures you. To prove it, he pulls you in for a kiss. Your spirits are lifted just like that.

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie

[abhabio-technology]

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[moonshynecybin]

Ok elaborate on the white water kayaking if you would like bc that’s incredible

this is. maybe the thing i think about most lol. NO idea how much people know about kayaking but uh. ask me!

so whitewater kayaking is interesting as a sport bc while there ARE major racing events (the green race!! the north fork championship!! go look them up they’re SICK) it is generally not a formalized racing series that culminates in a trophy like in motorsports. like there’s no seating for spectators even. you get to these races by hiking two hours through the woods and parking your ass on a rock by the river and hoping you don’t fall in bc you are BLASTED drunk. they’re big parties most of the time!

so while the best kayakers in the world DO compete in these things and win them, the sport is frankly more about doing sick stunts with your friends on beautiful rivers all over the world than like. cutthroat fanatical competition. which bezz (who HATED racing against people as a kid never wanted to fight on the track to go fast) would LOVEEEE imo. also literally it is bad practice to go boating alone you NEED a homie with you at all times that’s how you run shuttle that’s how you set safety that helps you scout rapids it is a homie-based activity!!! and bez loves his friends SOOOO bad and especially loves to do dumb life-threatening stuff with them. that’s what big water boating IS.

and it’s just. some aspects of the stuff happening at the ranch and the broader culture of whitewater is very similar in terms of vibes to meeeee. like the adrenaline addiction the injuries the constant threat of death the long hair the dumb tats the earrings the SAME fucking sunglasses kayakers get just cheaper ones. the energy drink sponsorships the going skiing 24/7 in the off-season…. that’s a fucking kayaker to me lol. i look at him and genuinely question why he is not in a dry suit bombing waterfalls in chile. #beater #steazy #booflife he’d love it so bad.

and i AM saving all of my narrative thoughts on bezz kayaking for a fic one day maybe. problem is i don’t know shit about the whitewater scene in italy so i’d have to make these boys like. appalachian. but i do know cele would have the world’s most atrocious rookie crush on hot trip leader bezz and when cele dump trucks a raft and has to do a swim beer out of his nasty bootie (whitewater has like. a reverse shoey system where you only do them if you fuck up) and bezz like, puts his big hand on the back of cele’s neck as he chugs this nasty beer (for maximum crazy this is bezz’s shoe bc cele is a rookie and didn’t want to shell out for the whitewater specific shoe and is wearing chacos) and cele has a small religious experience and flushes BRIGHT RED.

anyways if you want to check out some sick kayakers and are curious regarding the vibe i recommend following aniol serrasolses (catalan legend), nouria newman (badass. has yelled at my brother), and evy liebfarth (from my hometown!). liebfarth is going to the olympics this year in kayaking slalom which IS a formalized racing series but one that generally takes place on closed courses and such and is a small niche in the broader culture of the sport. still very cool and very hard to do. there is also dane jackson who is the arguable GOAT of the sport i just think he’s kind of swagless and one time he put my brother on youtube after he dislocated his shoulder when they were paddling the royal gorge like. cmon man. also his daddy owns a major kayaking manufacturer booooo. he does win the green race like literally every year which IS annoying. to me.

[abubblingcandle]

JUST SAW THE DEATH FRUIT SNIPPET!! RIVETING

Ahh thank you anon! Sorry this has taken so long to reply to but it's been on my list and I wanted to provide you with another Death Fruit snippet in response to your lovely ask.

I'm working on this massively out of order so this bit is after Jamie gets out of hospital!

“Jamie,” Roy sighed, turning and deciding to switch tactics. “We all watched you nearly die. Let the team baby you for another few days. Just so they are sure that you aren’t going to disappear on them,” he muttered. The quietened the lad down. Yes, it might be emotional blackmail but no one had ever called Roy Kent a member of the morality police. “I guess,” Jamie grumbled and Roy didn’t push. That was as much of an agreement as Roy was going to get from Jamie at this point. Roy wasn’t making it up either. This was the longest Roy had seen Jamie without a greyhound hanging onto him since the incident. Will took about as long as Jamie did off work after a Roy Kent worthy blow up at the drink manufacturer who changed the tropical fruits in the sports mix and didn’t tell their regular customers that the ingredients list had been changed. Roy wished he had filmed it as by the end Will was the colour of a tomato and the sales rep was sobbing down the phone. God forbid anyone ever underestimate their kit man again.

[walkawaytall]

bring back the turkey, you cowards

Weird thing none of you know about me: from about 2015(?) until about 2019 or so, I had a very specific and weird obsession: Lisa Frank's social media presence (and, to a lesser degree, Lisa Frank's collaboration deals clearly made in an attempt at making a comeback).

Now, I will go ahead and correct a commonly held misconception amongst the people who followed me on Facebook at the time: I was not obsessed with Lisa Frank the person (as mysterious as she attempts to be, I think I have her mostly figured out), Lisa Frank the manufacturer of my favorite childhood school supplies, or even Lisa Frank the company as it stands today (though this Jezebel article, Inside the Rainbow Gulag: The Technicolor Rise and Fall of Lisa Frank, is wild and I think everyone should read it; it may not hold true today since they've had so much change and turnover, but it's still fascinating). My obsession was primarily focused on Lisa Frank's social media presence. And that's because Lisa Frank's social media presence was batshit insane.

Keep in mind, when I first started following them on social media, they were not banking on Millennial nostalgia. They were still primarily selling school supplies. The adult coloring book (not adult like smutty; adult like...those therapy coloring books that were so popular ten years ago?) sold by way of an exclusivity agreement with Dollar General hadn't been announced yet, nor had workout gear or the SpongeBob collab (sold only at HotTopic). As far as anyone knew, Lisa Frank was still that rainbow school supply company whose target audience is nine-year-old girls.

Which is why all of the housemade "memes" were absolutely bonkers.

This is peak Middle-Aged Mom Humor, so why is it being presented to me by the company making pencils and folders for elementary schoolers?

Glad to know we are encouraging fourth graders to day drink.

This one isn't actually aimed at any particular age group; I just find it funny that captains of pirate ships are inherently pirates, so I don't know what this is supposed to mean.

He won't. He will not fly. He is a flightless bird. This is a terrible lesson and you are a homicidal mother penguin. (Also using slightly altered lines from poems without attribution is theft, but whatever.)

And the image that started my obsession:

This...isn't a joke??? What is this???

I don't know who was behind these posts, but considering how small the company was at that point, I always suspected that Lisa herself was recycling old artwork with the help of an intern or something and creating the social media posts...because it just sort of seemed like that's what was happening? I have no proof of this; it was just a vibe I got.

But, during that period of time, even though the posts were inscrutable and sometime just straight-up Minion Humor, they were at least interesting.

Well, I mean, sometimes they were interesting because they were like acid to the eyes.

Okay, and sometimes they were interesting but also sported questionable messaging about one's relationship with food and exercise.

Anyway, I digress. In 2019, Lisa's son Forrest Green (yes, her sons are named Hunter and Forrest Green) took over the social media presence and it became...very palatable for the masses, I suppose. It was a lot of photo edits of old boy band pictures with Lisa Frank designs superimposed on tshirts -- it was very nostalgia-driven and very much directed at Millennials and thus I lost interest, because if there's anything I hate, it's being the target demographic for a sales pitch.

Anyway, my point is that for several years in a row, Lisa Frank would post the same holiday-themed images, so I got used to seeing a certain Thanksgiving design that is, and I cannot prepare you enough, one of the most chaotic and hideous things you'll ever lay your eyes on. But it was tradition. They posted it like three years in a row, and then as soon as Forrest took over, this design was never posted again. And all I have to say on this Thanksgiving week of 2023 is: bring back the turkey, you cowards.

[anonymousreader4d7]

I finally got some interest in my RMAU-Verse AU, so I'll tease it with my Potions headcanons that a friend and I came up with together. (That one person who reblogged the interest post, this is for you!)

This is kinda a long post, sooo....

Potions:

Healing: Tastes sickly sweet, like children's medicine - has an almost manufactured taste.

   Feels uncomfortably tingly and prickly, but also soothingly cold (or warm if it's a cold type injury); like Icy-Hot or other muscle pain creams.

Regen: Tastes fizzy/bubbly, like soda or sparkling water. (I feel like it'd also be sickly sweet and almost artificial tasting?)

   Feels uncomfortably tingly and prickly, but also soothingly cold; like Icy-Hot or other muscle pain creams.

Fire Res: Tastes like drinking ice water after chewing mint gum, or taking a breath of cold air after running - so cold it burns, all the way down your throat and lungs. 

   Feels sharp but cold, until you balance it out with the heat from the fire/lava; like standing in/in front of a freezer for too long.

Weakness: Deceptively sweet, with a bitter aftertaste - like pre-galloned sweet tea.

   Feels like level one burning, accompanied by dizzy, can't breathe, and about to pass out feelings, as well as, well, weakness. 

Slow Falling: Thick like hot chocolate, but tastes like orange créme. Not cold, kinda lukewarm. Doesn't taste bad, just extremely niche and settles in your stomach heavily. 

   Feels like being covered in a single sheet that's been fluffed - it slowly styles over you and then it's extremely light but it kinda tickles your skin.

Slowness: Bitter, uncomfortably thick, and numbing. A little on the warm side. 

   Feels like just waking up in the morning, and it's still too early and you don't wanna move - your limbs are too heavy, and even your brain feels slow.

Speed/Swiftness: Taste like an energy drink, complete with almost battery acid like aftertaste. Makes you feel jittery, shaky, and tingly/prickly. 

   Feels like a sugar high while a giant fan is blasting you with air. (it also gives you the urge to try to make funny fan sounds)

Invis: Like drinking the soda bubbles after pouring it - tingly, airy, and thin. 

   Feels heavy, like a weighted blanket, but cool too, like a late spring night.

Strength: Tastes like drinking a protein shake, complete with gritty feeling - tastes tan and sandy. 

   Feels like that adrenaline thing people talk about, where they can suddenly lift cars and things like that, or like strength enhancers in movies/videogames - or like Popeye chugging spinach.

Harming: Tastes hot, and burns like trying to breathe your drink - also tastes sour, kinda like bad grapes.

   Feels like level three burning, but is just pain. Sharp, dull, aching, screaming pain. It feels like you're being stabbed and corroded from the inside out at the same time. While having a migraine. Not fun. 

Water Breathing: Slimy, salty, and nasty. Like ocean or pool-left-to-sit water.

   Feels strange, like the air feels too thin, and you're almost lightheaded, but at the same time, you feel heavy and slimy, like climbing out of a pool.

Jump Boost: Tangy, sweet but not too sweet, like a burst of natural energy - sorta like Sunny D, juice, or a sports drink.

   Feels similar to that elastic-y feeling after a good run/workout, where you feel like you could almost fly/float off the ground.

Night Vision: Tastes like water at 3 am - tastes like clarity and minerals, with a slight hint of fruity aftertaste. 

   Feels like putting on glasses, then turning up the light on your phone, while also on the verge of oversensitivity, with a lingering tenseness behind your eyes.

Turtle Master: Thick like slowness, along with that bitterness and mild numbing. Also tastes slightly metallic, due to the Resistance effect. 

   Feels like slowness, but also with a level of imperviousness, like nothing can hurt you.

Poison: Tastes sour and bitter, with a horrible aftertaste like vinegar.

   Feels like level two burning, but you also feel like you're about to throw up, can't breathe, you're dizzy, and about to pass out all at the same time.

Luck (unbrewable): Tastes like Lucky Charm cereal.

   Feels like a bubble bath.

Potions intended for battle that aren't splash potions are carbonated for ease of opening during battle (as stated in this vid https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRu5aVEN/)

Other, Non-Potion Effects:

Wither: Feels like acid was poured on you and you instantly came down with the flu at the same time.

Blindness: Feels like a sudden chill going down your spine, accompanied by an abrupt lack of spatial awareness and a wave of minor dizziness. (And also, obviously, a lack of vision...)

[ultradetectivegeek]

thank you for the tag @wanderingblindly!!

Do you make your bed?

Every day, it keeps me sane lol

2. Favorite Number?

I love the number 6, idk it's just a great number :)

3. What's your job?

I'm a production planner for manufacturing

4. If you could go back to school, would you?

No way, I love learning but I hate assignments and grades. I might just go to college classes to hear experts talk about things though.

5. Can you parallel park?

It depends on the car, If it's not too big then yes, but my eyesight is AWFUL so I have zero depth perception when parallel parking.

6. Do you think aliens are real?

Based on the size of the universe, I'd say that if there weren't I'd be shocked.

7. Can you drive a manual car?

I was taught to drive on manual, now it feels weird when I DON'T have a clutch.

8. Guilty Pleasure?

Fanfiction and reading in general, I tend to get my head in the clouds which can be... inconvenient lol.

9. Tattoos?

Not really a tattoo person, I can't imagine very many things I'd like enough to put on forever

10. Favorite Color?

I love navy blue and bright yellow

11. Favorite type of music?

Typically whatever catches my attention at the moment, rock, edm, classical, musicals are a big part of my childhood too :)

12. Do you like puzzles?

My family has a tradition where we do a huge puzzle every New Years, so while I don't do them a ton I love them!

13. Favorite Childhood Sport?

I played soccer for six years, got too competitive though lol

14. Do you talk to yourself?

yes! All the time

15. Tea or coffee?

I don't drink either, hot chocolate all the way XD

16. First thing you wanted to be when growing up?

I personally never had a good answer for this one.... I always thought it would be cool to have something that I considered a 'dream job' but never thought of anything lol

17. What movies do you adore?

Oh I'm a huge movie buff. Jurassic Park is probably my favorite rainy day movie but Tombstone, The Princess Bride, and the Emperors New Groove are well loved.

Tagging @dreaming-in-seams, @solanaceae-piperita & @aryaokayfriend :)