#the fact that i had to use two sources for this....

[beuxwhoyouare]

Raised You Better

My son Jasper was a good kid. He was a star soccer player in school and got a scholarship to play in college, so I only saw him on holidays. I missed him so much and looked forward to our quarterly reunions.

Well that was until his most recent visit. He was being so distant and when I finally inquired why he was acting differently, he finally admitted he actually dropped out to pursue being a personal trainer.

I was shocked. He's always been a model child and did all me and my husband expected of him. Maybe it was all our time away working? Maybe I should've been home more instead of being at the lab. It felt like a punch in the gut. I mean sure he knew what he was doing thanks to all his time training for soccer but that's not a way to build a life?

My husband and I did it right. We met in college and supported each other through our advanced degrees and worked our way up in an international pharmaceutical company. Personal training is just so...surface level. He's supposed to be better than us. That's what you want for your children. No no no this is no good. I'll have to set him on the right path.

I knew of a special program at work that was rooted in natural medicine and meditation with a mad science twist. I set up Jasper with the "Sports Nutrition" department at work but it was actually our new experiment. It looked like a TENS muscle stimulator on crack. Several wires shot out of a relatively large dark grey box with a screen and several sliders on one side. I sat connected on the other side of the wall connected with the pads all over the top of my head. All I had to do was wait for Jasper to get hooked up. We sold it to him as a scientific way to curb cravings for sweets and unhealthy things, like an ozempic shot for the brain. In reality, I was told that the machine would take positive attributes from one source and strengthen them in the weaker mind.

I saw the lights flicker and anticipated that he had already been hooked up to the machine. I just laid back and rested while focusing on the importance of getting a quality education. Eventually, I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes again it was all so groggy. But I was sitting facing the opposite direction. I lifted my arms to wipe my eyes and gasped when I looked down. My boobs were gone and replaced with sizable mounds of muscle escaping a tiny white tank top. My arms and thick thighs now filled with tattoos....no?! This isn't supposed to be how it works

I told the lab techs who I am and that I was actually Meredith. They both looked at each other spooked but judiciously jotting down notes. After answering a few security questions, they agreed to believe that I was indeed not Jasper and it must be an unforseen side effect from the treatment.

That's when they explained the problem....When my body woke up, it also said it was Meredith. Could the experiment have basically overwritten the memory of my son with my own? I felt like I basically killed my own child. Grief swept over me. But then so did a bravado, a confidence, a giddiness? The two lab techs handed me a towel as they shyly avoided looking down at a tent forming in my shorts. Oh I guess the excitement led to a physical response.

In theory I get it as a scientist. I did in fact instill positive traits on my son. Granted, that also erased him seemingly. But also it's a chance at a new life full of new experiences. I'm a man now. And what a man indeed. I walked into the shower facility at the lab. I took off the outfit Jasper donned to the lab, if I was still a woman it'd be called skimpy and slutty. Tiny shorts with underwear built in and a virtually see through tank top. In two swift moves, I had taken everything off. I had seen my son naked as a child but this is different. He looked so much like his father....well I guess I looked so much like MY dad now. His genetics graced me well as I placed one hand on my pecs and another on my new dick. I squeezed both recoiling from the newfound pleasure. This was wrong right? Like I shouldn't be doing this....I felt disgusted with myself. No. This is for the betterment of Jasper's life. I'm going to let go of my past life....I'm Jasper now.

And what a life it will be. Years of playing sport and training, whew. I wasn't going to let him throw it away, I'll let it be a side job, maybe I'll own a business with a bunch of trainers under me but I won't be hustling like that. Not yet. I gotta learn the new me. I used my hands to trace the curves of each new tattoo, then moved on to each muscle. I poked and prodded before squeezing, then I remembered I had business to attend to. I took one hand and gently took hold of the warm fleshy rod under the steamy water pulsing down onto me. I pumped back and forth for a few minutes. Jasper was not sensitive at all...I shoved aside my reservations and gripped myself firmer and began jerking harder and faster. Eventually I introduced my other hand....oh he was girthy in the best way. I mean I am thick in the best ways. Harder and faster, it felt like I was floating outside of myself as my muscles took over almost like autopilot.

The steam radiated off my new musculature when it felt like I saw a flash of light. Shot after shot came out of my new rod. The lab walls had likely never seen a show like this but I was happy to christen them. The autopilot kinky thoughts continued to take over my new mind and body. I squatted down an licked the nearest wall as my cum dripped down. I knew Jasper was queer but I didn't know how he would respond to this kind of kink. I think he was a little freak because there was not one single butterfly in my stomach from this action. I quickly toweled off and headed to my apartment. I figured "Meredith" could find her way home.

The apartment smelled like a young male in college. A musk twirled around sweat and strong cologne. Foreign to me, but familiar to my new body. I couldn't control myself and ripped my clothes off...literally. My strength made it obscenely easy to tear them off in ways they weren't intended to. I wanted to try on all my new clothes. This body made everything look good.

My phone buzzed. It was one of "my" bros asking if I was coming down to the shoot. I played it off like I forgot and asked him to send me the "deets" again.

I threw on the nearest random shirt and bottoms and made my way to the warehouse address given. I guess "I" had agreed to help with the photoshoot to launch "our" new clothing line. A nearby table had Jasper's name on it and I quickly assumed the position taking off all my clothes and putting the skimpy clothing on. I channeled my new swagger as my bros began taking pics.

Oh I think I'm gonna like this. Hopefully I can find a cute twink or something soon. I really wanna put these thighs to work plowing someone's son or two.

[vervainandspritz]

TASTE

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: Once you're taken to the Arrow house, you can't seem to understand the reason for which he brought you here. Maybe Mr. Shelby just appreciates your company... Or maybe not.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: non-con, oral (m receiving), Dark!Thomas Shelby, humiliation, degradation, straight up abuse, human t*

A/N: That's straight up abuse y'all LOL. Written for an amazing @novashelby

~~

"My sincere apologies, Mr. Sotheby," His voice came out smooth, butter like, as he slowly raised from his chair. His facial expression remained completely emotionless, the only sign of the fact he actually cared at all were his slightly furrowed eyebrows. The other man's eyes widened suddenly, as a gun came into his view, aiming directly between his eyes from a short distance, mere two feet. The older man's heart began pounding in his chest as an embodiment of a death threat looked him dead in the eyes. "For arranging my words in a way that gave you the false impression that you had any choice." A loud gunshot cut through the air, stunning the frightened man as his body trembled like a blade of grass. Pure fear, Thomas saw in his eyes, as he moved the gun, once more aiming it at the man's forehead. Mere inches from his head was a hole in the wall.

"Sign the contract" He eventually added, calmly, with a gaze as dead as his opponent would be if he didn't immediately listen. Which he did, of course, not being able to afford bargaining with the devil not a second longer.

Gripping the pen with his shaky hand, he signed the contract so evil, he could barely breathe. Giving up the horse so dear to his heart, along with his only daughter. Y/N.

~~

If someone asked, Y/N would tell that life was... Weird. That was the exact word she'd use. Weird. Months following her.. forceful moving were misleading, to say the least. She braced herself for all kinds of impact, whatsoever, coming from the hand of a gangster who wouldn't bat an eye on becoming the death for hundreds of people. He was indifferent, cold, never faltering to wordlessly remind people of who he was.

The first couple days, Y/N spent purely in the room she woke up in for the first time. Heart violently thumping whenever she'd hear muffled steps behind the door.

…and so she waited, and waited, until one of the maids brought her dinner with a smile gentle enough to bring some sense of safety, but not enough to reach her eyes. After that... She left the room, silently walking through the dark corridors of Arrow house. The cold and silent air occasionally cut with little Charlie's laugh or chatter, whenever someone would visit on the rare occasions Mr. Shelby was home. She didn't dare talk to him, hell, even look him in the eyes. The energy and power he emanated with was enough to make her understand her position.

Not worthy of even looking at him. And so she avoided him at all costs, like a little mouse would with a big scary cat. Even months after moving in, once the maids established the rules with her in Tommy's name, she was focused on being... As little trouble as possible. Despite the comforts of the big mansion, she constantly felt in danger.

Especially when the source of that feeling would stare at her across the room when she wouldn't manage to leave in time. Feeling his heavy gaze on her back, or hearing a snarky remark as she wouldn't dare to turn around.

So she knitted, attended horses, went on walks around the property and even indulged in meaningless talks with the only young woman she'd occasionally meet, Ada Shelby. Sister of a man so scary, yet not resembling him one bit. Y/N grew to like her.

"Does he talk to you at all? I never asked you before." Ada asked, letting out a cloud of smoke in the air as Y/N's eyes remained focused on the tea she was preparing.

Shifting from one leg to the other, Y/N tensed lightly, not wanting to talk about him.

"Not really, and... And I think it's okay." She finally stuttered out. "Mr. Shelby is a busy man and I don't want to get in any sort of trouble. Life has been treating me well ever since I'm here." Her voice was confident, yet gentle, just like always, not daring to speak about the humiliations she was dealing with on daily from him.

Ada looked at her cautiously for just a second, before taking another puff.

"He wasn't always like this." She eventually said, her voice low and quieter, almost as if he could hear it.

As if she knew

Y/N's eyes met hers, exchanging the knowing look which held something heavier. Something she couldn't put a finger on.

"I believe you," She breathed out, nodding.

~~

"Y/N" She heard, looking out of the window. Voice muffled through the thin wood of her door. "Please, come in" She offered kindly, seeing one of the older maids come in, offering nothing but a small smile on her thin lips.

"Mr. Shelby asked you to come to his office" She stated calmly, but the uneasiness in her eyes shone through the façade. Y/N froze for a second, her hand gripping onto the side of her nightstand.

"W-Why?" The usual gracefulness and

minimalistic confidence she carried herself with, gone, giving way to fear. She watched as the older woman let out a sigh, gently tilting her head to the side with a small smile.

"I'm sure you'll find out once you get there, Miss."

When she left, Y/N cautiously came closer, her head peaking out of the doorway to look at the door office. Dark wood, almost black. So fitting to the personality it hid days and nights.

He asked her to come, and so she did. Lazily making her way through the doorway, occasionally hearing the creaking beneath her white shoes.

That's what he was getting her. White shoes, white dresses, white everything. Y/N never dared to ask whether it was Ada, maids or himself choosing the type of underwear she wore. At the idea, her cheeks turned dusty pink just when her hand grabbed the handle.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed lightly, slipping into the room and closing the door behind. It took a few seconds before she moved at all, immediately feeling like she was caged in a lion's den.

As he flipped through the papers, she looked up, finally seeing him. Thomas didn't bother to look at her, continuing his work with a cigarette lying in an expensive ashtray, smoke seeping seemingly all the way to the ceiling.

"Mr. Shelby" She spoke up quietly, fumbling with the hem of her dress as her heart loudly thumped, perhaps trying to escape her ribcage.

Breathing through her mouth, Y/N tried to calm herself down as he seemed unbothered, as if she wasn't there.

So she waited, because he asked her to come. So she did.

"Sit down, Y/N" He finally said after several moments, not bothering with a quick response. He could afford to make people wait for him.

...and so she did, following his request which always sounded too demanding to officially call it that. Sitting on the chair in front of his desk, she leaned back, keeping her hands neatly folded on her lap. Waiting for a reason he called for her. All the dark and even darker thoughts ran through her mind one after the other.

Is he going to kill me? Have I done something wrong?

Five minutes turned into ten, ten into fifteen before finally, Y/N couldn't stand the tension as it turned into a pounding headache. She was.. scared.

”Mr. Shelby, why am I here?” She managed to breathe out eventually, fearfully glancing into his eyes hidden behind the glasses he wore.

Thomas didn't move, finishing up the contract as he smoked, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and carefully letting it out. As the cigarette came to an end, he stumbled it out before looking up and catching her staring at him. Shamelessly, he watched every small expression on her face, glancing towards her legs covered in white tights before sighing, and leaning back into his armchair.

”To keep me company, why else would you be here?” He responded in a husky voice, stating it as an obvious fact, making her feel stupid. Just like he wanted her to, of course.

It wasn't new by any means, Thomas Shelby he never missed an opportunity to talk to her like she was stupid, or openly mocking her.

Inhaling the smoke, Tommy let his gaze linger on her a little longer before dropping to his documents once more, losing interest in a conversation that hardly happened.

Y/N nodded, obediently which he saw in his peripheral vision.

Good girl

~~

After six days of her daily visits in his office, Y/N grew slightly less anxious. She didn't know why would he want her company since he clearly despised her, showing it on every step he could… besides those couple hours she was spending in his office.

That was the only exception.

One the seventh day, Y/N didn't wait for Frances to come and get her, instead she got ready on her own, bringing the book she was given by Mr. Shelby last time. The less she had to talk to him, the best it was for her own good.

Making her way across the quiet, dark corridor, Y/N sighed deeply before pressing on the handle, as the door opened.

As always, he was sitting by the desk, round glasses on his face as Thomas Shelby didn't spare her a single glance.

He never did whenever she came, even if he was the one who demanded her presence.

Y/N stood by the doorway, holding onto the book before finally, he sighed with annoyance, looking up.

”Take a seat, Y/N” He invited another day in a row, already knowing she wouldn't move if he didn't… allow her.

So good she was, never touching the things she wasn't supposed to. Never asking, never talking if he didn't start the conversation. The innocence was causing an itch, one Thomas couldn't scratch on his own.

Almost soundlessly she walked over to the couch, one that was too expensive to be this uncomfortable, but Y/N wouldn't dare to complain.

She sat on it quietly, putting her book aside as she looked out of the window, falling deep into her thoughts.

Y/N wondered, why was she even here? How did her family react to her sudden absence, did her father say the truth?

Times were difficult, dangerous enough for many young women to just… disappear.

Was that what he told her mother? she wondered, feeling the heartache at the memory of her loving mother. Her travel through the depths of her memory took longer than she thought, when suddenly, Y/N heard that deep sigh along with the armchair moving abruptly. Wooden legs scratching against the floor, perhaps leaving marks.

Her eyes snapped up, seeing him raise from his seat, rolling up his sleeves as he shook his head lightly.

”Books aren't interesting enough, eh? I thought little girls liked little stories,” He mocked, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, stirring it around with a swift move before he turned to face her. Feeling the shift in the air, Y/N shook her head with fear, her heart thumping loudly.

Can he hear it? Y/N wondered,

”N-No, Mr. Shelby I–” She started nervously, trying to explain but he cut her off without a care,

”’Yes, Mr. Shelby, ‘No, Mr. Shelby” His voice came out in a snarl, taunting as he saw pure fear in her eyes. ”I taught you well after all”

It wasn't new, the way people feared him. But the pure, little thing like her, it.. felt different. Addictive even. Taking a couple steps forward, he stood nearby before leaning down, his outstretched hands causing her to wince, afraid.

The impact never came, Y/N felt him tug on her chin. ”You don't have a single fucking ounce of rebellion in you, Dove.” The corner of his lips turned upwards as she closed her eyes, not brave enough to pull away from his touch. ”Doing exactly as you're told, eh?” His words were brimming on the edge of appropriateness because of the tone he was using. Her heart was thumping loudly with fear, and Y/N wondered whether… he heard it.

”I’m d–doing what I have to,” She quietly responded, feeling humiliated with the insinuations.

Suddenly Thomas crouched down in front of her, his rough, calloused hand grabbed her jaw, tugging and perhaps leaving bruises as he made her look into his eyes.

”No,” He hissed, ”You’ll do anything I fucking tell you to.” His voice was rough, a little odd even for him. Y/N tried to blame it on the amount of alcohol he drank. Tommy's eyes danced around her face, searching for any sign of weakness and as soon as he held her gaze once more, his lips turned into a wolfish grin.

The girl… she was completely pure and innocent. Her eyes so clear, he could read every emotion going through her head. His grip became stronger as he leaned closer.

”Are my books not good enough for you?” He snarled, unable to hold himself back from looking on her lips. Y/N squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to shake her head as tears gathered under her eyelids. ”Look at me,” He growled, and she tried, but the fear was overwhelming. ”I won't tell you twice” She sniffled, opening her eyes as she noticed the close proximity he was at.

”Not so fuckin’ stupid after all, eh?” Thomas let out a humoured sigh, leaning forward and leaving a little peck on her lips, before pulling away.

Slowly he walked over to the table, pouring himself another generous glass of whiskey.

”I know girls like you” He spoke up suddenly with a shake of his head, eyes remaining locked on the glass. ”Raised without a firm hand, to be treated as a princess of sorts..” The way his tongue wrapped around the words brought disgust to her mind. ”You think you're too good for us, Y/N? Too good for my house?”

Y/N watched with teary eyes as his head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

”Too good for my books, aren't you, Y/N?” The young girl sniffled, attempting to catch a breath so she could explain…

”N-No, Mr. Shelby.” Y/N stuttered out, but he ignored her voice, taking another glass in a gulp before turning around with a shake of his head. Y/N glanced towards the door, silently analyzing whether she'd make it to the door before he'd catch her.

Quickly giving up, as she realized that... She was very far away from anything she knew. There was nowhere to run from him.

Thomas felt her gaze at his back, as be poured whiskey into the wide glass in his hand. He turned it in his hand, thinking for a moment before he faced her again. Slowly walking across the room, as he pointed towards his desk.

"There's a pack of cigarettes on my desk. Light one for me, Y/N." He demanded out of the blue, not sparing her a single look and the tone of his voice proved to her that... There was no time to lose. He wanted it right away. Immediately getting on her feet, she walked towards the desk, passing by Tommy by mere inches, trying not to flinch as his scent registered in her senses.

Strong, heavy and... Specific.

Taking out a single cigarette out of the pack, she grabbed the little box with her shaky hand. With furrowed brows she finally managed to light it with a match, keeping it directly with the flame.

Tommy watched with amusement at her inexperience, clearing his throat as he leaned on the desk.

”Put it to your lips, then light and inhale. It's the only right way to do it,” He instructed sternly, watching her face. Seeking reaction.

Y/N tried to maintain a confident façade, but internally she felt out of her depth, cringing at the idea of feeling the flavour of tobacco on her tongue. She had never smoked before nor had she any inclination to start. This was certainly a test he was giving her: a test of her obedience and one she wasn't willing to fail.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Y/N lifted the cigarette to her lips, mirroring the way he's always done it. Under the watchful gaze she lit a match, holding the flame to the end, as she suddenly inhaled the smoke as instructed.

Not being able to hold it even for a second, Y/N plucked it out of her mouth as she coughed loudly, struggling to catch her breath.

Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, ripping the cigarette from her grasp and shoving it into his mouth for a long inhale, gaze remaining on her face which turned a few shades of pink darker.

As she slowly managed to pull herself back together, Thomas slowly smoked, one of his hands resting on the desk by his thigh. As her eyes met his, he smiled lightly.

”Do you like it, Y/N?” He asked, eyes narrowing as he watched her carefully, seeking every emotion. Y/N steadied her breath, straightening her dress slowly.

”No, Mr. Shelby” She said with a strained voice. He chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards her face.

”What’s there not to like, eh? Everyone smokes.” He mocked, raising an eyebrow in the way which made her blood boil.

”The taste,” She responded calmly, ”It’s disgusting”

This time Thomas let out a full laugh, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as his head fell back slightly. He shook his head, looking at her dumbfounded facial expression. Pointing towards the chair by the desk, he motioned for her to kneel down. With wide eyes she silently begged him to let her go, but he didn't.

Only after she did, Thomas scooted closer to the edge, leaning down.

”What do you know about taste, little girl?” He taunted, outstretching his hand to grasp her jaw tightly, too tightly for any sign of comfort. The cigarette was still burning between his middle and ring fingers, making her dizzy with the intense smoke. ”You’ve tasted nothing, Y/N, have you?” His voice was harsh, underlined with the inappropriate desire he held deep in his mind for so long.

The way she… did everything he asked. Despite the burning tears in her eyes, and fear which never left her body around him, she always listened.

”N–No Mr. Shelby” She repeated weakly, as one of the tears ran down her cheek. Y/N tried to nod, to make him happy in anyway just so he would let he go.

”That’s fucking right” He barked loudly through clenched teeth, ”’Yes, Mr. Shelby’, Good fucking girl” He hissed, pulling back, letting go of her jaw.

Looking down, Thomas set the cigarette between his lips before dipping two of his fingers in the glass of whiskey.

”I’ll give you something to try, eh?” He breathed out, looking back up into her fearful eyes. Setting the glass on the desk by his side, Thomas gripped her hair with one of his hands, harshly pulling and keeping her exactly where he wanted, causing pain and more tears to fall.

”Open your fuckin’ mouth” He hissed, as she didn't listen, trying to keep her mouth closed. With another hand he squeezed her jaw just beneath her cheekbones, causing it to open involuntarily. As it did, he shoved his fingers into her mouth, making her taste the bitterness of whiskey on her tongue.

As she surrendered, Tommy relaxed visibly, letting go of her hair as his head tilted to the side.

”You want to be a good girl for me, Y/N.” He said in a voice so odd and low, she couldn't take it in any other way than… threatening. Crying wordlessly, she nodded, tongue swirling around his fingers just like he wanted.

With the amount of whiskey he drank himself, it was easier to read his eyes. The shade slightly changing, pupils dilating depending on what he thought and felt. Her scalp burned, just like her tongue. He watched entranced, moving his fingers in her small mouth, feeling his pants growing tighter around the crotch.

Without missing a beat, he brought the glass to his lips, chugging it in one big gulp before pulling his fingers out of her mouth.

”Did you like it, Y/N?” He asked, petting her cheek with wet fingers, before sighing. ”...and don't fucking lie to me” He growled, causing her to wince in fear as she frantically nodded.

Thomas scooted a little closer, tugging on the material of his suit pants with his dry hand.

”Good,” He added, baring his teeth in a wolfish smile before spreading his lips, and shoving wet digits into his own mouth. Moving them around as he kept eye contact with Y/N, who didn't dare to look away.

”Open” He demanded in a husky voice once he freed his fingers, lifting them to her face. Y/N was too scared to deny him, parting her lips lightly, and it was enough.

Enough for him to slowly shove them inside, his own lips parting as he panted with burning desire. The sight of his spit covered fingers disappearing into her mouth made him completely hard. ”Suck them for me,” He offered gently, but the frenzy in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Obediently looking him in the eyes, Y/N started sucking as best as she could, trying not to choke as he shoved them deeper. It was difficult to focus on the task as he groaned every few seconds, another one of his hand sitting tightly on his crotch, squeezing and tugging.

Her tear stained face seemed to only spur him on, so Y/N did everything to stop crying.

”Please” She tried to speak around his fingers, feeling absolutely humiliated with what was happening.

Hearing it, he slapped her cheek lightly, almost petting as his brows furrowed in mockery.

”You wanted to taste, so fuckin'–taste it!” He growled, choking her as he shoved his fingers deeper once again. ”Ah, that's it” Thomas sighed, taking in the sight of her teary and spit covered face, causing his cock to twitch impatiently in his trousers.

Only then he pulled his hand back, letting her get a breath as he spread the spit all over her cheek, touching the soft skin.

”Can–Can I go now?” She asked quietly, trying not to sob, but as he shook his head slowly with a chuckle, Y/N knew it was far from end. Furious sobs ripped out of her throat, causing him to tilt his head as he watched, leaning back.

”You need to understand one thing, Y/N” His voice turned serious, completely different from the usual mockery he was treating her with. ”You see,” He sighed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. ”I paid for you a small fortune. You and the horse you love, eh? What was his name?” He spoke in a low tone, keeping an eye contact.

”S–Snow” She choked out,

”Ah, yes. Such a smart girl” He praised, petting her thigh and causing her to squirm. ”Which in the adult world means I own you. Fully and completely.” A small grin spread on his face, not reaching his eyes. ”So when I tell you to read, you read. When I tell you to suck, you fuckin’ suck! You hear me?!” He raised his voice with each word, followed by stumbling out a cigarette in the ashtray as he raised from his chair, quickly standing right in front of her.

”Look at me,” He demanded, and the warmth radiating from his body only reminded her of how close he was. Of how easily he could hurt her. So she did.

Looking up, Y/N’s eyes met dark orbs, almost completely black in the dim light of the room and with the desires he was holding deep inside. His fingers lightly grabbed her chin, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side.

”...and right now, I will teach you another thing that you will be grateful to me for,”

With that, Thomas let go of her chin after pulling it down, making her stare ahead. Her eyes falling on the tent in his trousers, the evidence of his desire and list evident in a way that she was terrified of.

”Please, just–” She muttered out, before another slap landed on her cheek, this time harder, successfully shutting her up.

”I’m growing tired of little bitches like yourself pretending to be all proper, Y/N. Don't make me tell you what to do, because you won't like it, I assure you.” Y/N swallowed her tears, bracing herself for another potential hit as her hands raised in the air, reaching for his belt and slowly unclasping it.

She fumbled for a moment with his zipper, earning an annoyed sigh from him which made her move faster in fear. Pulling down his briefs, Y/N closed her eyes in hopes he wouldn't notice, but of course he did. Chuckling loudly, Thomas tutted.

”You’re ought to be grateful. Thank me for wasting my fuckin’ time on you!” He growled, getting a hold of his erect member and slapping it across her cheek, making her squeeze her eyes tighter. ”Ungrateful little whore,” He added, grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her closer.

”Open” Tommy demanded, pressing his tip against her lips, making her internally cringe but fearing his unrestricted violence, she parted her lips once more. “If I feel your teeth even once, I'm going to fuck your worthless cunt so long till you grow fat with my bastards” He growled, pulling on more strands, forcing her to nod her head in understanding.

Y/N remained motionless, not knowing what to do and at the same time, she didn't want to provoke him.

Feeling her obedience and fear, Thomas sighed, letting go of her hair and petting her cheek lightly.

”Good girl”

Moving his hips forward, he stuffed her face with more of his cock, giving her some time to grow accustomed to his thickness.

“Now suck on it, Dove” He instructed, watching her face as she hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper as she sucked on the few inches she had in her mouth. Tommy hummed under his breath, feeling the familiar tingling in his spine at the sight. Such an innocent, pretty girl falling into the devil's embrace. Sinning on his account as he watched, and drank every second. ”Just like that”

Just when Y/N got used to the pace and depth he settled earlier, Tommy pushed on her head, forcing her to swallow him further and making her choke. She fought against his grasp, feeling dizzy with the lack of air as he began fucking her throat, not really caring about the nails sinking into his thighs.

Pulling away, he let out a laugh glancing on the mirror a few feet away from him. Y/N violently coughed, trying to catch a breath but his attention was elsewhere. Mirror which happened to stand by the opposite wall, a few feet behind Y/N’s back allowed him to get a perfect look. Her dress ridden up, revealing her white panties.

”Who knew you'd be such a whore, eh? Maybe I should make a penny out of you, after all. You'd do well in a brothel if that's what you like,” He laughed cruelly, leaning forward and shoving his cock back into her mouth, as he grasped her underwear. Tutting and groaning, Thomas pulled up, causing the material to dig into her pussy and ass. Y/N cried out around his fat member, trying to get out of his hold but he was too strong.

Tommy pulled until he became satisfied with the wet patch on her underwear, which was now evident on the white lace.

Letting her pull away again, Thomas grabbed his spit covered cock, tugging and rubbing as he groaned loudly, throwing his head back. The sight of her kneeling in front of him, with her cunt wet and face tearstained was too much, as orgasm suddenly arrived when he didn't expect it.

Stroking furiously, Tommy shot out load after load, painting her face just like he imagined before.

Silently, Y/N prayed to anything that was willing to listen for it to be the end of this encounter. Her sobbing died down, and gaze became absent as she dissociated.

Eventually seeing the difference in her eyes, Thomas chuckled darkly before running a hand through her messy hair.

”Don’t make me repeat myself,” He said, his voice echoing throughout the room before she raised her dead eyes to meet his.

”Thank you, Mr. Shelby”

~~

@iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @chaimaarouaine11 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @honeymoon8

[peterm4rker]

ten. the girl in the green beetle (written)

🕸🕷✮⋆˙ wc. 1.5k w. curse words! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

as you walked towards the place you and spiderman had agreed to meat for your first ever interview, you wondered how the fuck you ended up there. 

just a couple days ago you had been struggling to think about something to write about, your mind too occupied with thoughts of a certain biochem major that was too hot and nice for your well being. but now you were on your way to meet with a literal superhero because he had been nice enough to be your new source of entertainment for the school body, and even more importantly, the newspaper editor.

to say you had changed your outfit five times was the understatement of the century. you wanted to look cute, but also professional. not too professional to make you look stupid, but not too cute to make you look superficial, in chanhee’s words. it is unneeded to clarify he had not been of any help in the choosing of the outfit.

you got to the park where you had agreed to meet, finding your way behind the giant statue where no one ever went and setting down the cloth you had brought for the occasion. you got your computer started and your phone ready to record in case you missed anything, and waited.

★🕸️⋆｡ °⋆

mark hadn’t slept all night knowing that he was going to have to spend time with you without giving away his identity.

he kicked himself over and over for even thinking it was a good idea to accept your interview, much less offer to have multiple of them. of course, he knew that he could retract at any minute and you would understand and send him off with a smile, because you were that type of person. considerate, understanding, nice, beautiful… he could keep going with that list forever. but he wasn’t the type of person to simply back away from things he got himself into, he wouldn’t break a deal that hadn’t even started, not when it came to you.

with that conclusion settling in his brain, he was finally able to rest. but the world was unfair, and someone out there (most likely jeno) was praying for his downfall, which caused him to be in his current debacle. he swung around the city like he was being chased by a monstrous, villainized version of the flash, trying to get to the arranged location before you got too tired of waiting and left there, storyless and disappointed. he sort of wished he was being chased by a monster, that would be a better excuse for his tardy than “i fell asleep and woke up about half an hour ago.”

with his mastered speed and guilt fueling every movement he made, he got to the park twenty minutes after the time you two had arranged. he looked for you frantically until he spotted you, sitting on a blanket behind the statue, eyes focused on your screen. you didn’t look mad or annoyed, and he really hoped you weren’t. he approached you slowly and carefully, taking advantage of the fact that you hadn’t seen him to take his time to admire you. your hair laid perfectly on your shoulders, the clothes you wore highlighting every beautiful feature. and mark was breathless, utterly entranced by your beauty when your eyes lifted to meet his, making him thank the gods above that you couldn’t see his blushing face through the mask.

��you’re here” you spoke, surprise coating your voice as you looked up to his standing form.

“i’m so sorry im late” he began, trying to find a way not to sound completely pathetic as he looked for an excuse.

“don’t worry about it, i’m sure you have better things to do than be interviewed by a college reporter” you chuckled lightly and mark’s heart pounded on his chest.

“not at the moment, i just fell asleep” he spoke before he even realized, eliciting a laugh to escape past your lips.

“that’s okay, you deserve to rest” you smiled reassuringly “and i also had time to finish up an assignment, so it worked out for the both of us”

mark smiled and took a seat in front of you, having to remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to act the way he normally did around you. you weren’t there for him, you were there for spiderman, so he would give you spiderman.

“what were you thinking for the article?” he asked as he ripped some grass off the ground, playing with the leaves to keep his hands busy and attempt to hide his embarrassment from you.

“well, obviously i won’t ask for any of your personal information. so i thought that we could do kind of a series of stories that you would like to tell, like your battles through your eyes, what you think, feel, things like that.” you spoke, a slight smile on your lips as you noticed the nervous habit.

“that sounds really fun, i normally don’t get to share my perspective of fights” he nodded, remembering that you couldn’t see the way he was smiling at you.

“let’s start off by telling me your favorite one of your stories” you said as you opened a fresh document on your computer, ready to listen to whatever he said “i’ll start the recording now, if that’s okay”

mark nodded and took a few seconds to think of what story he could share with you, mind scanning through the hundreds of silly stories he could tell for one that would entertain you.

“okay, i got one” he spoke once he had it, looking at how you started the recording “this was not so long ago, actually. this guy decided it was a good idea to attack in the middle of the day, when everyone is outside and extremely conscious of what is going on around them…”

and he continued to speak, telling you about the guy with the weird laugh and the awful plans. he had a way of telling stories that made them a million times more entertaining than when they were talked about in newscasts. his expressions and body language had you audibly laughing, getting an inside scoop into the superhero’s very unserious mind and what went through it in times of battle.

“and so i’m chasing him through the bridge and cars are stopping everywhere, everyone is honking and this man is sliding around with whatever goo was oozing from his body, which i had the pleasure to touch later by the way, not a very pleasant experience” he shuddered exaggeratedly at the memory, making a chuckle fall from your lips “and out of nowhere this random girl opened her car door and he slammed right into it. she got off and started yelling at him in very angry sounding spanish and the man looked terrified, like i’m sure he was way more scared of her than he could have ever been of me. she stalled him enough for me to get to him and take him away, though, so that was nice… i remember it so well because every time i see a green beetle i know it's her and it makes me laugh every time because i can just tell that she’s one hell of an entertaining person to be around” he finished as he settled down on his seat again.

if there was one thing you had noticed throughout the exchange it was that he could not stand still for the life of him. he was always moving, fidgeting with something, bouncing his leg, something. and it made you think of mark without even realizing.

you had spiderman right in front of you and you still managed to think of mark.

“no way…” you laughed softly, typing some things in your computer as you laughed at the end of his story. “so in reality you’re not even the hero of this story, the girl on the green beetle is” you teased.

“oh, yeah, a hundred percent” he laughed as he watched your pretty smile decorate your face, and just then he realized that he hadn’t been tracking the time he had been there “sorry, what time is it?” “oh, its 11:37” you spoke after checking the time.

shit. he had a report due at one and he wasn’t nowhere near finished.

“i’m so sorry to cut this short, but i need to get going, you know, super hero stuff” he muttered a bit nervously, feeling guilty that he had to leave you just like that.

“its okay… i’ll see you here at the same time next month?” you asked, and he noticed how unsure your voice sounded. he liked this side of you, the shy side that mark didn’t get to normally see.

“of course, i’ll be here on time next time” he smiled as he watched you smile, nodding your head. you waved at him and he waved back before taking the first web to a lamppost, that way swinging away from you.

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

★ blue's corner ;; first spideyn interaction hehehe.... i wrote this at night and its not proof read so sorry for any mistakes !! ★ tag list ;; @winwintea @neozon3nha @kittydollzz @sleepyvic @injunnie-lemon @jovialdelusionbouquet @n0hyuck @julsinglee @leejenoenthusiast @morkiee @taroddori @mrsjohnnysuh @sunghoonsgfreal @dr3amersdiary @grlscrushing @flaminghotyourmom @johnsuhsbanana @stqrgr7 @sibwol @synthwxve @222brainrot @jeonghansshitester @gomdoleemyson @ninahorikoshifr @chriscentric @flamingi @ldh0000 @clean-soap @haechology @hyuckies18 @yutasloverr @kukkurookkoo ★ back to the main masterlist ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any content !!

© peterm4rker, 2024

[justinspoliticalcorner]

The Guardian:

Donald Trump said on Monday he would sign an executive order imposing a 25% tariff on all products coming in to the United States from Mexico and Canada, and additional tariffs on China.

“On January 20th, as one of my many first Executive Orders, I will sign all necessary documents to charge Mexico and Canada a 25% Tariff on ALL products coming into the United States, and its ridiculous Open Borders,” Trump said in a post on Truth Social. Trump said the tariffs would remain in place until the two countries clamp down on drugs, particularly fentanyl, and migrants crossing the border illegally. In a follow-up post, Trump announced that the US “will be charging China an additional 10% Tariff, above any additional Tariffs, on all of their many products coming into the United States of America”. He said that the reason for the additional tariff was China’s failure to curb the number of drugs entering the US. China is a major producer of precursor chemicals that are acquired by drug cartels, including in Mexico, to manufacture fentanyl, a highly potent synthetic opioid. “I have had many talks with China about the massive amounts of drugs, in particular Fentanyl, being sent into the United States – But to no avail … Until such time as they stop, we will be charging China an additional 10% Tariff, above any additional Tariffs, on all of their many products coming into the United States of America.” In response, China warned that “no one will win a trade war”.

Liu Pengyu, a Chinese embassy spokesperson, said China had taken steps to combat drug trafficking after an agreement was reached last year between Joe Biden and Xi Jinping. “The Chinese side has notified the US side of the progress made in US-related law enforcement operations against narcotics,” he said in a statement. “All these prove that the idea of China knowingly allowing fentanyl precursors to flow into the United States runs completely counter to facts and reality.” Canada’s deputy prime minister, Chrystia Freeland, released a statement on Monday evening saying that the country places the highest priority on border security and the integrity of its shared border with the US. Trump and Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau spoke on Monday night about trade and border security, Reuters reported, citing a Canadian source directly familiar with the situation. Freeland’s statement did not mention the tariffs directly. It also said that the Canada Border Services Agency, the US Drug Enforcement Administration and US Customs and Border protection “work together every single day to to disrupt the scourge of fentanyl coming from China and other countries.”

[...] A tariff is a tax placed on goods when they cross national borders. Import tariffs such as those proposed by Trump can have the effect of protecting domestic industries from foreign competition while also generating tax revenue for the government. But economists widely consider them an inefficient tool that typically leaves consumers and taxpayers bearing the brunt of higher costs.

Donald Trump vows to enact economy-crushing 25% tariffs on fellow USMCA members Mexico and Canada, and much steeper tariffs on China.

See Also:

HuffPost: Trump Says U.S. Will Impose Massive Tariffs On Mexico, Canada And China From Day 1

[starberry-cupcake]

SHORT STORY + BONUSES (read it like when gollum says bagginses) INTERMISSION!!! Today we'll take some time to dive into the Harrow bonuses and a couple of short stories, one of which I should have read before, but such is life.

previously, in the tlt universe:

I finished harrowcita del 9

Bonus 1: BoE google doc for the soldiers

differently from the other recaps, I did these while I was reading them, not when I finished reading a whole chapter/story

so maybe the thoughts are more rambly than usual

sorry about that

ANYWAY I have to give it to the BoE folks, they've got a lot to deal with over here

they're like the audience, coming into this blind

and have to try to understand how necromancers operate on the fly

'bullet to the head but don't be too confident on that' seems to be the most useful tidbit

it's like a resident evil gameplay

BoE is in resident evil, gideon is in survivor and harrow is in a gothic pulp novel

the advice for engaging lyctors is "avoid them at all costs"

I keep spelling it BoA instead of BoE because of her

blood of adam? blood of awake me up when september ends? idk

Pronounciation guide (aka I do what I want, but apparently pronounce nonagesimus like the author)

dr reverend emperor john chose the name gaius for himself, it wasn't his real name

gaius sounds like gallo, the spanish name for gallus gallus domesticus, which in english would translate to cock and alludes to the fact that he is a dick

agustine is pronounced like in english and not like in spanish (agustín), I have been pronouncing that one right but I could have called him agustín all this time

cassiopeia was a queen but we already knew that

sixth house, ceramics, cooking, checks every one of my boxes

"CRIS-ta-bell. Rather than “crees”."

what is the difference oh my god is there a difference there

pyrrah is achilles's drag name, which is cool

valancy and cyrus were like this

I'm still gonna call the mithraeum mithrandir whatnot the emperor's bolthole, it's in the sacred text

the nonniad is in dactylic enneameter, which is a ninth version of greek epics (which are hexameters) and it's making me send my ancient greek professor from uni good vibes wherever he is

Glossary

we know more about the beasts now, or have more ordered info, the gist of it is this

so the RBs are only the nine OGs from the nine planets of dominicus that the emperor fucked up

those are the ones that can go from the river to the physical world and viceversa

the other minor beasts can only exist in the river

I still think this is all the emperor's and the lyctors's fault for starting this nonsense and killing planets for power and whatnot

so yeah, Consequences of your Actions, johnny boy

the heralds, as we had established, are kind of like borg, responding to the RBs

necromancers kinda go mad at all this as if they were looking at cthulhu

I wanted to google what the two first verses of wake's name were but the first results that pop up are tlt sources and I'm not looking into that, in case of spoilers

I've already come this far without massive spoilers, I'm not gonna risk that now

what quotes would you like to have as a name if you were one of these folks?

If I could choose three, I'd probably pick: Yo tengo el corazón como la espuma / das Leben Sie nicht vergessen hat, daß es Sie in der Hand hält / Quieto en la tierra y sentir que mis pies tienen raíz

probably un monceau d’idées et un monceau de douleurs would be another contender considered

idk how that'd be shortened though, maybe espie because espuma

house quiz was book 1, boe name assignment is book 2

The Mysterious Study of Doctor [tumblr keeps blocking my post and I'm gonna try to avoid this word to see if this is it]

ANYWAY, SIXTH HOUSE TIME

from the blurb I can tell that:

1) all this time I thought Dr S was like a funny nickname someone had given palmolive for being correspondence-horny lmao

2) is this the magnus institute???

3) "Enter Palamedes Sextus and Camilla Hect, age thirteen" we're gonna look at some baby picturessss

"Every thirteen-year-old necromancer in the Sixth House is gifted."

"I was born with four kids in my generation eligible to produce children with me. Palamedes had two"

maybe that's why he went for a correspondence gf

camilla describing that's she's the best and me just going

this thing of 'being attractive' as a category would get me demoted at the sixth, though

but working in data, I can do that

I am really liking archivist zeta

there's something that was sealed for a lot of years and now is unsealed and that's very exciting!!!!

lost media!!!!

so many stairs would be a problem for me, but there's lost media at the end of the tunnel

archivist zeta: don't touch anything

palmolive: including the bone hands?

archivist zeta: the what now

apparently the hands are younger than the time the room has been sealed

with the forms being color-coded, I'm starting to think this is less magnus institute and more office of incident assessment and response 

them making references to other houses remind me that other houses socialized, seeing everything from the ninth made me feel like everyone was isolated all the time lol

add to my list of sixth house love the fact that we have murder mysteries now too

gotta love the sixth house

kinda ominous the hand bones now that we know what we know, of camilla carrying palmolive as a tamagotchi in a bone hand after harrow changed the skull

palmolive and camilla age 13 are a whole other book I would have devoured at age 13 myself btw

giving me his dark materials vibes

there was a skeleton in the air vents above the hands

camilla says she's gonna start taking measuring tape with her alongside everything else and I also can relate to going places with 25 million things, just in case

palmolive steals pens, apparently

I've used this meme for palmolive before but it still fits

the skeleton was possessed by the dr himself, he got kinda stuck on his way there after the fifth person tried to call him and got his hands into his study through skeleton shenaningans

palmolive needs to touch something in order to prove the "why" and everyone votes in favor, because he's on a roll

the cool wooden orb that was in the desk was a cool wooden puzzle, like the Karakuri Creation Group ones

man, I love those

the dr solving a puzzle after his death and coming back to prove it is me with some niche puzzles I used to have a sideblog for

don't ask me

there was paper inside and everyone got outside super fast and started congratulating each other (hello????? you did nothing????) and shaking camilla's and palmolive's hands

they don't wanna give palmolive multiple points for solving a several hundread years old mystery, which isn't fair tbh

"Don’t expire in a fit of hubris." oofffffffff

the paper had letters, which palmolive thinks are love letters

with his years of experience on pining letters

the one at the ends says "Tomorrow you will become a Lyctor and finally go where I can’t follow"

is this about cassie??? aka cassiopeia????

loved the camilla and palmolive murder mystery dinner

As Yet Unsent

this is judith's diary and this is how I imagine she looked while writing it and judging people

judith assisted the BoE with her own healing but it's kinda tough when you're also handcuffed and with your eyes covered and whatnot

judith is still in the emperor's side

I don't blame her, she hasn't met the man

yandere twin has met him and still saved him so, I can't judge judith too much

there's a corpse that isn't rotting

promising stuff

there's a commander called We Suffer

they're wearing masks and camilla is being "converted" to their cause

and she didn't even meet the man, but apparently BoE had contact with the sixth house at some point in the past

cassie?????? is this you??????? who knows

sixth house though, earning more points

also, camilla says that palmolive would want to find out what they know and, you know what, fair

I would too

camilla is also good at chess, because she's good at everything

they're playing ceiling chess like in queen's gambit

judith thinks about martita, who will soon do some awesome things next to mati nonnius

judith is also marinating the fact that everyone was fooled by the twinsies and the fact that regina george twin has no necromancy

she also complains about her being too emotional and prone to trust people

every point regina george twin makes about BoE sounds pretty solid to me tbh

the more I see, the more I think the emperor is a dick, like his name implies

judith argues with regina george twin a lot but also notices that her ears go pink when she's impassioned so...why are you noticing that judith????

how did you notice that???? *smirks knowingly*

judith has to deal with the limitations of medical care when you don't have a bunch of people who do body magic stuff

so she's dealing with recovery in a slow way and with machines plugged to her

it's hard for her because she was from the house where necros are also very able to do physical stuff

camilla is giving her strongly worded positive reinforcement

regina george twin and judith have a lot of moments that go from flirty to fighting

I can't keep using smirk reactions images so (¬‿¬)

regina george twin is also being trained to be rambo barbie and I think that suits her

"In a different time I would have found ways to apologise to Palamedes Sextus, whom I at the very least critically misjudged"

palmolive always getting the indirect compliments my goodness

he's so popular

"The princess has by turns tried to charm Camilla, play with Camilla, flirt with Camilla, and cajole Camilla. Camilla is currently unmoved"

nobody's good enough for her, regina george twin, move along

regina george twin is also being kinda aphobic towards judith's response on her being uninterested to romance camilla

I don't think judith is aro at all but that doesn't mean we have to be assholes about it, regina george twin, thank you

judith and regina george twin think BoE is wrong about necros having orgies and I'm here like

so, apparently, judith propositioned martita because she was pretty much obsessed with her

and martita said no

and she thinks camilla is holding onto tamgagotchi palmolive out of some sense of not wanting to let go of him

unaware of the fact that he's in his river loft waiting for his bones to be womanhandled by harrowcita

also, the BoE has an old ship that judith wasn't helpful with, so they don't really have much patience with her

regina george twin and judith keep flirting in that intense tlt way

I'm starting to think regina george twin has a big crush on judith and I'm here for the dynamics of that

"It said, Ugh! Then it said, Eugh!" is this mercygirl??? it sounds like mercygirl to me

and fixing someone's insides as if they were cleaning a sewing machine also sounds very mercygirl

mercygirl is also curious about this body that doesn't rot and I wanna know what it is because I want so bad for it to be gideon-related but I can't let myself hope

also, she gave them the coordinates to find harrow in the cool planet

"And Camilla said, The Warden and I know they can die like anyone else" 👀

"The corpse of the Ninth House cavalier is as pristine as when Camilla Hect convinced them to take it on board"

YESSSSSSS

YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

MY HOPES WEREN'T UNWARRANTED

LET'S GOOOOOOOOO

GIDEON ARMS INTACT BABYYYYYYYY

regina george twin proposes necro-cav marriage to judith and judith says no because no relationship here can be straightforward

"Why would I ever knowingly take Coronabeth Tridentarius’s, having desired her already for twelve long, stupid, fruitless years?!"

DRAMAAAAA

AND THAT'S IT!!!! FINALLY!!! This took me a lot longer than I wanted it too but I enjoyed the stories ♥ See you in the next one!!

[megamagimugi]

He's-a Gone

Luigi time! To suffer, that is.

(CW: character death)

This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!

Lore:

Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.

Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.

Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.

So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.

Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.

Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.

But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.

[Good night]

…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.

Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!

But alas,

You can no longer play as Mario

Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.

@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!

@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.

Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.

@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf

@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117

And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈

[mariocki]

Honor Blackman guest stars as art expert Syd Lewis in Saber of London: Deep in the Heart of Chelsea (1.3, NBC, 1957)

[whenthegoldrays]

still shook

[fizzseed]

”i’m not sure you have the patience for the web” ”oh PISS OFF” god martin i love you i love you i love you

[lohstandfound]

ignore this.

learning to shut up when i dont have anything new to say to the discussions my mutuals are having about the treatment of the female characters in this show and fandom

even though ive just gone ahead and rambled in the tags a bunch of bullshit

[seilon]

If I may:

Psychopath/Sociopath: outdated and unofficial terms referring to individuals with antisocial personality disorder or who display antisocial behaviors– primarily meaning a significant lack of consideration for the wellbeing of others, a deficit in empathy, and a persistent disobedience and/or significant disdain towards authority and societal rules and expectations. There is virtually no valid reason for a layperson to use these terms in the same way that there’s virtually no valid reason for a layperson to call someone “retarded”.

It is not: a synonym for evil, any given person you see as evil or monstrous, every serial killer or rapist, any person who’s done objectively bad things in general, any person who’s been inconsiderate or harmful to you, a real mental disorder, etc.

A lot of pop psychology gets thrown around and since I already have a headache, here's preventing you lot from making it worse.

Love-bombing: A manipulation tactic of increasing affection and grand gestures before or after doing something abusive, specifically to weasel one's way out of consequences.

What it is not: A streak of affection and generosity towards friends/loved ones.

Trauma-bonding: Knowingly traumatizing someone to take advantage of their vulnerable state, to then act like the "hero" or the one who cheers them up.

What it is not: Bonding over similar traumas.

Gaslighting: *Knowingly* convincing someone they cannot trust their own perception of a situation in pursuit of one's own narrative.

What it is not: Misaligned perception of events.

Narcissist: Someone afflicted with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, a traumagenic cluster B disorder, that struggles with self-obsession, paranoia, craving validity from the public, delusions of grandeur, and social disconnection.

It is not: Your rubbish ex that cheated on you.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

-Xanthe

[brick-van-dyke]

Gonna review all the sources I've been provided with (they're damning for the zio so rip to them but thanks for the sources lmao), and been searching through more sources from the time periods in question and, well, basically I started a thing.

(sorry for the blurriness) An overall essay going through the evidence and providing a small splash of input as someone noticing a lot of discord in said evidence, which isn't surprising but still it is telling how zionists cherry pick.

Anyway, the more I learn, the more I realise that there's a lot of political and nationalistic push to emit details in some papers, while pushing for certain conclusions based on the framing of the research for others. I think this is legitimately just unproductive when acknowledging the subjectivity of history as a study and the way certain overlap may point to a conclusion that isn't preferable by a variety of people, from researchers to the intuitions that may use or pay for the research to begin with. I find this in studies that delve into contentious topics in general. It's why it's so important to note the overlap and notice the inevitability of bias in understanding these topics.

As far as the history the Middle East goes and who colonised who, I think many disregard the simple theory that, perhaps, colonisation itself can be something inflicted by the post-colonised and equally be something done to a group with connections to conquest, ultimately making both the same in terms of land rights and the concept of legal ownership. Or, more specifically, that Zionists' attempts to become conquests have since reduced their claim, just as it would reduce a Babylonian, despite their deep links to the land and, arguably, being one of the first social groups before or at the same time as the Israelites.

History and Carbon Dating specifically become difficult to assign moral value of land rights to when cultures blossom and change in such extreme ways (to the point of being unrelated or unrecognisable with those from ancient eras) with the passing of time. The racial blame placed by Israel is thus shown to be one of mistaken vengeance and generally racial profiling of modern Arabs, just as the Persian, Turkish, Roman and British empires showed signs of racist attitudes to employ totalitarian tactics of rule over the peasantry. Being the colonised when one is willing to colonise with the same means reduces the ethical claims and, meanwhile, the history itself reflects greater nuance than political nationalists may desire of it.

Ultimately, as I search further and further, I find that the claim of nationalism and identity is a mere shared ideal of all empires formed through conquest and the desire for ownership of abundant resources. Meanwhile, I find that the idea of an ancient homeland to reclaim is obsolete when the people in question do not resemble those they wish to avenge. Culture evolves with geography and time, a constant for every country's history. Religion, culture and the concept of a homeland forms where the resources are abundant, rather than any legitimate greater or lesser claim from neighbouring tribes and civilisations. The wish of a Promised Land is a logical conclusion for any group seeking refuge from the elements; a moral argument filled with human necessity and a shared common ground if faced with an open mind and a willingness to review the past, while simultaneously moving on from it. The complexity becomes simple when it is understood that only the present can take responsibility for the present; and choose a better path than those who horde resources in the modern age of globalised colonialism.

[thestarlightindex]

Voidworks, seeing an Beast in headspace: oh, this fucker

Owen: you have beef with this guy????

Voidworks: yea i was there last year when you guys had to stop him from rampaging through a small town

Owen: you were??????????

Voidworks: yeah i literally had your magical protection bracelet and Helios stole it from me to give to you so I was just There with Zero help

Owen: wait, you had it???? did you use it???

Voidworks: yeah a couple times

Owen: wait but- we literally gave you one of your own and it didn't do shit, why did mine work for you???????

Voidworks: your guess is as good as mine my dude

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[irrealisms]

everyone in mcyt fandom talks about bad inventories but i feel like we don't talk enough about the different types of bad inventory & the ways that inventories can be characterizing. i took most of these screenshots but one or two of them aren't by me and i've just had them saved for a few months sorry. i'm taking inventories from various people across various servers (wild life, dream smp, hermitcraft, lifesteal, and 2b2t) to illustrate my point here

like there are inventories that are bad because they're empty:

but then there's also inventories that are bad because they're full:

and, like-- the different ways an inventory can be bad are also characterizing? an inventory can be bad because the items aren't stacked; or because it's empty of anything useful; or because it's so full of building/fight supplies that there's no slots left for doing anything else; or because it's full of random junk. it speaks to a character's position (compare tubbo's diamond sword and empty inventory to ranboo's netherite sword or zam's full inventory of potions) and the rules of the server they're on (tubbo's not wearing elytra because elytra aren't allowed on the dsmp; zam's inventory has chorus fruit and wind charges but no ender pearls because ender pearls aren't allowed this season on lifesteal) and what their priorities are (building, pvp, lore) and how organized vs scattered they are and so much more. another inventory i like:

like!!! that's so instantly characterizing, for both the character and the server!!!! 5 stacks of end crystals + obsidian. 6 stacks of tnt. 3 stacks of god apples and a stack of chorus fruit as your only food. the bucket of lava and bucket of water for lavacasting. the fact that the flint and steel is enchanted with unbreaking. that's a STORY--of the character but also of the server! this is not the sort of inventory you have on most servers! it's so focused around griefing--explosions, lavacasts--and pvp, and the stacks of god apples as primary food source are an instant warning sign for widespread duping. the chorus fruit not for fights--ender pearls are strictly better, and he's got some so he clearly has access to them--which means it's for escaping traps, which means that's a live concern. it's got a lot of pvp supplies but it's so wildly different from the lifesteal inventory in ways that speak to the differences in server rules and cultures. like, horrendous inventory in many ways. also, very good inventory in some ways. also also, delightful inventory! fascinating inventory!!! inventories are such a delightful source of instant characterization i love them so so much