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[thegreyjoyed]

Cats and Their Men

The cat in the pictures is the reason this series started. My Bailey, the runt and the love of my life. (Bailey is her name, very self indulgent, I know :P)

This series is mainly going to be Fluff, possible smut depending on how it goes. ASKS/SUGGESTIONS/IDEAS ARE APPRECIATED. I’d love to add more to this but I don’t have a lot of ideas

I’d say for right now it’s looking POLY141 X Reader

Part 1 | A garbage kitten, A masked man, and their cashier

Part 2 | Masked man came back… he’s not happy

Part 3 | A handsome man, A spicy kitten, and their cashier.

Part 4 | A bearded man, A grumpy cat, and their cashier

Part 5 | Kyle’s well meaning try, vet appointments needed

Part 6 | to be continued

| In Between Moments |

Lost Kitten

Tiny Talk About The Kitties

Main Masterlist

[thegreyjoyed]

hiiii. sorry to bother. i put up the ASDA request and I was giggling and kicking my feet! it was so good!!!!

but what about someone on the opposite end? Their wife/partner who loves to be at home, having everything clean and hot meals ready for when they get home. They find a way to fill the time: reading from their constantly growing ‘to be read’ list/TBR or they took up knitting to make Soap a beanie or something for the cold winter months. She’s antisocial but loves her boys and will literally stay home for them for as long as they want her there…

im trying to be that housewife

@caffieneaddictt18 thank you for another ask! This got a little away from me, but I hope it fits what you were looking for despite the long and winding road to get there ❤️

cw: poorly executed accents

You were never a huge fan of being around others. You had your people - your family, some close friends from primary and secondary school, mates from uni - but sometimes even they drained you. Parties and dinners and just sitting around chatting until the night wore on to morning took you days to recover from. You go because it's what they expected. It's what's normal. It isn't until you've been out of uni for several years, looking for a new job that might get you out of the city, that you stumble on the social battery theory. How you've always felt suddenly makes so much sense.

You lean into the idea that you charge your battery best alone or in situations of your choosing. You find a company that doesn't let but actively wants you to telework. Your new boss says the CEO likes how telework cuts down on overhead, and the CEO'd also heard how telework boosts productivity. They pay you more than your old job did, so you can afford a little cottage in the country.

The closest town to your little cottage has a thriving pensioner population, and their activities suit you perfectly. You find things you enjoy and learn to socialize on your terms.

One afternoon, a few weeks after moving into your cottage, you stop into the fabric shop looking for materials to make curtains. The mid-afternoon sun comes in too brightly for you to see your computer screen, and while you could move your home office, you like being able to look out over your back garden as you work. In the shop, you see a flyer for a crochet class and realize it would be nice to have a cozy throw blanket over your worn couch like the one your Gran made when you were a kid. You sign up for the class without any reservation.

Another week, after setting up an account at the library, you stop in the cafe at the corner for a warm cuppa. There are seven or eight people in the shop, all sitting at the tables and in the comfy chairs at the back, but no one's talking. They aren't even looking at one another. You know they have to be a group because there are several open tables and seating spaces, but these people are sitting too close together for it to be out of crowded necessity. When you ask the man behind the counter, he tells you it's a silent book club and points out the club's leader. You don't plan to wait, but you pull your book out all the same, and when the book club breaks up, you make your way to the woman in charge. She tells you when and where they meet and says you're welcome to join whenever you want.

It's at your fourth silent book club you meet John. You've taken to sitting at one of the tall tables with Mable, a widow who said you reminder her of her own granddaughter, "But you're much more content to sit and keep an old woman company than she is, dear." Mable is not here today, so you're alone on the outskirts of the club.

You've been reading silently for the last twenty minutes when you hear a gentle cough and look up into stunningly blue eyes and a mutton-chopped framed smile. "Sorry, ma'am," the man rumbles, "but I was wondering if this seat was free."

You look around the cafe, surprised to see far more seats filled than usual. Everyone else seems to be bundled against the coming storm, coming in to warm themselves with a post-work coffee or tea. There are only a handful of open seats in the whole store. The man must have assumed you're alone, especially as the rest of the book club is sitting at the low tables or armchairs a few feet away.

He's still looking at you, and you startle to realize he's waiting on a response, so you stammer out, "Er, sure, yeah," shifting your cup a little closer and turning back to your book again. The man is quiet for a few minutes, sipping his own cup, but you can feel him looking over at you. Maybe you leave book club early tonight. You're silently cursing Mable for being out of town.

You're startled when the rich baritone next to you asks, "What are you up to?" You drag your eyes from the page, terrified about having to interact with this stranger about your life when you see him nod his head to the book in your hands. "Lamb's one of my favorites, but I don't want to spoil anything. What's happening?"

You proceed to summarize the last chapter, and he's nodding along. "Yeah, how do you feel about Biff walking away?" Normally, you hate small talk, and the whole point of silent book club is to read what you want without interacting with others, but analyzing books and movies is one of your private passions, so if this handsome stranger is willing to give you an outlet for it for an afternoon, you're happy to take him up on it. You proceed to share your thoughts on Biff and his travels, what kind of reliable (or not) narrator he is, Moore's seemingly heretical treatment of Christianity. You ramble through your and his cups, ordering more when they're empty. You don't realize over an hour has slipped by until you catch sight of the clock on the wall.

"Gracious! I can't believe I've been talking with you, at you really, for so long. I'm so sorry," your words trip over themselves with your embarrassment. Your tablemate smiles and holds out a hand.

"Name's John," he says, shaking your meekly held hand as you proffer your name. You mumble your apologies again for taking up so much of his time. "It's been a delight hearing you talk about my favorite book. In fact, it's getting on supper. Care to join me, and I can share some of my thoughts?"

You hesitate for a moment before caving, the desire to talk about the book overriding your natural aversion to these kinds of interactions.

That first dinner with John leads to several book recommendations and an offer of more meals and discussions if you are interested. No one could have been more surprised than you when you take him up on those offers too. You look forward to dinners where you discuss the social satire of Pratchett's Guards! Guards! and whether Moore's Lamb or Winterson's Boating for Beginners is more blasphemous.

By the fifth dinner, John brings one of his team - he'd told you he was military - because the man is a huge Bradbury fan and hounded John as he read The Illustrated Man. You don't know what you make of Kyle at first, but he slips easily into conversations about the role of tattoos in modern society, showing you some of his.

Dinners and book discussions with John and Kyle slowly became afternoon cinema meetings with conversations on symbolism and allegory in the cafe after. The day before you're headed to the theater to see The Grand Budapest Hotel, John texts and asks if another of his team who's big into Anderson can come. You haven't seen too many Anderson films before, so hearing Johnny talk about shared themes between The Grand Budapest Hotel and Moonrise Kingdom and The Royal Tenenbaums is a delight.

By the time John invites you to the house his team shares, for the newest season of White Lotus, you're used to Kyle and Johnny. They've all talked about Simon, so meeting him seems more like greeting an old friend. You settle comfortably onto the couch with Kyle, Johnny on the floor near your knees, John and Simon in recliners, and watch the first two episodes. Over a meal of Indian take away, you Simon points out the imagery repeating itself and how it contrasts from repeated imagery in the first and second seasons.

You find your time split between work, your hobbies, and John and his team. You still go to your silent book clubs, but now Kyle joins you if he's in town. It turns out the cafe also holds a monthly crochet group of mostly older mostly female customers who sit and swap advice as they work on their current projects. You're with them one evening as you're working on a beanie for Johnny who constantly complains his head is cold when you realize you've been spending time with John and his team for nearly a year.

Two days after your revelation, you're at John's for a viewing of Won't You Be My Neighbor. You open the door with the key John gave you months ago when he asked you to check on the place when they were away. You walk in to find the table set and food out, an odd occurrence as you usually eat after watching something. You call to the boys and hear thundering steps coming from the back of the house where you know the stairs to the second floor are.

"Coming, lass!" Johnny calls, practically skidding in to the room.

"Oh, er, here," you say, passing over the completed beanie. The weather's started to turn, and you want to make sure he'll have it when he needs it. His face shows his confusion for a moment, and you rush to tell him, "You're always saying it gets too cold and you don't have a hat so..."

He's opened it up and is tracing his fingers along the change of thread from forest green to black. "Ye...ye made this?" he asks. You can't read his reaction, and you worry you overstepped.

"Er, yeah. Just something to keep you warm." He's still running his fingers along the stitches, so you ramble on. "It's as close to MacTavish tartan colors as I could find. I think it fits as the yarn stretches--"

He embraces you so suddenly you don't know what to say. He brushes a kiss against your cheek, so quickly you could imagine it never happened, and whispers, "Ah love it. Thank you." By the time he pulls back, the others have come in, and John's putting a small vase of flowers on the table.

He looks over at you as he straightens up, and he must read the confusion in your eyes because he says, "You didn't think I'd miss a chance to celebrate our anniversary, did you?"

You splutter. "Ou- our anniversary?"

He grins, the same warm, welcoming grin he gave you the first day in the cafe. "Yes, doll. It's been a year since we met." You look away, embarrassed and feel heat rush to your face as you realize he's talking about a year of friendship and not whatever you might have thought. "Come, sit," he cajoles. "Let's talk." He takes his seat at the head of the table. Simon sits across from him with Johnny and Kyle on one side, leaving the lone seat on the other side for you.

You're skittish, unsure of yourself with these men for the first time in a long time, but you take the seat left for you. If they can tell you're nervous, they don't act like it. You catch John smiling softly at you, which makes you bashful all over again. He passes you the plate of steaks, encouraging you to take a larger portion than you dole out for yourself. You ignore him, passing your plate to Simon, asking for a large portion of vegetables instead.

"Can' just eat rabbit food," Simon grumbles good naturedly, piling roasted carrots and Brussels sprouts next to the steak before passing your plate to Johnny, who puts a sizable scoop of white beans on it before handing it back to you. You roll your eyes at how much Johnny gave you, but you grace him with a smile nonetheless.

Everyone starts eating, talking to you about their job, sharing unclassified anecdotes from their last op, asking how your job is going. Johnny shows off the beanie you made, and the others compliment your talent. Kyle mentions, not subtly at all, that the den could do with another throw for cold nights, and finally your demeanor cracks. "It'll take a while, Kyle, but sure. I think I can do that." You offer him a small smile when he beams at you.

"I'm real glad John met ya, doll," Kyle says.

Your eyes drop from his face and million-dollar smile to your lap. "Me too," you say quietly. They know about your social battery, but you've never told them how it never feels drained after time spent in their company. You look around the table and say, slightly louder, "I'm glad to have met you all."

John reaches across the space between you and pats your hand. "I'm so happy to hear that, dove, because that makes this easier." He clears his throat, much like he did that first day, and says, "You've been in our lives for a long time, but what we've never told ya is that we aren't roommates." He trips a bit over that last word, and you think back to little moments, like how closely he sat next to Kyle when Kyle first started joining your dinners, the little touches Johnny and Kyle shared at the cafe after the cinema, the looks Simon would give John when everyone else was watching the telly. "We're together. All of us." His eyes never leave yours, and the room holds its collective breath.

"That's okay, John," you respond, smiling at the trust they're showing by telling you the full truth. "I think it's sweet." You flip your hand over under his and squeeze it gently. "Thank you for telling me."

Some of the tension of the last few moments dissipates, but you sense there's more when John grips your hand back. "That's not all." Simon shifts in his seat and Johnny is uncharacteristically still. "Er, we're together-"

"You already told me," you tease, trying to lessen the stress you hear in his words.

"I did," he says, "because I want you to know we talked about this, about you, as a group." He waits until you look at him. "We're together, and we'd all like you to be part of us, too." You stare at him for several long moments as the weight of what he's telling you settles in. "We love being with you, dove, and we want to be with you fully."

As it had when you met, the silence stretches almost into uncomfortable territory, but this time, you have an audience. An audience of men who have made you feel more welcomed and more loved than your friends and family tend to. Men who have become almost your whole world.

You find yourself nodding your head ever so slightly, ever so slowly.

"Is that a yes?" Kyle chokes out.

"Yes," you whisper, and when you see the relief on John's face and hear Johnny's whoop, you say it again, louder and more clear. "Yes. I want to be with you, all of you, too." You hear a sniffle to your left and look at Simon who mutters about allergies.

The first month of your relationship with them all consists of the same things you'd been doing, but now with kisses and cuddles. You snuggle into Simon's side on the couch watching telly or hold hands with Johnny walking back from the cinema. It takes less than six months before the men ask you to move in. Their house, like your cottage, is outside town in the rolling countryside, but that's where similarities end.

Their house is a sprawling home with massive front and back gardens they encourage you to plant your favorite flowers in. They add a fifth chair to the set in the back garden, overlooking a small pond, and you take to having breakfast and tea in the back with whomever wants to join you when the weather allows. While they all sleep in one room, on an Alberta King mattress big enough to fit them all comfortably, plus you when you eventually let things get more physical, the house has space enough that each of you has your own room. They turn the sunroom into a home office for you, giving you a view into the back gardens you like so much. You teach yourself to cook more elaborate dishes in their large kitchen, and when they're home, you make sure there's homecooked food on the table to sate their appetites.

Living with your men means having very few expenses of your own. They don't let you contribute any money towards utility bills. "We've been coverin' the bills since before you were here, dove," John says. "An' we're used to coverin' 'em even if we're all on a mission and the place sat empty. 'S nice to know there's always someone 'ere and we ain't payin' bills fer nothin'."

They don't let you pay for anything at the shops either, despite the fact that you set the grocery list because you now do most of the cooking. "Doll, everything you make is so good we wouldn't dream of makin' ya pay for your ingredients on top of it all. You can buy whatever you want as long as ya keep lettin' us eat it," Kyle tells you.

Even when you want something for yourself, they don't let you spend your money. "We dinnae treat oorselves much. Nae reason to spoil one another, really, but we love spoilin' ye. Ye wouldnae take that from us, hen, would ye?" Johnny asks, holding the new dress you were planning to buy just out of reach.

By the time you've been with them for a year, you've dramatically scaled back your work hours, picking up more freelance jobs so you can control how much time you're working. When your men are working from base, you want to be around and attentive. You want time to keep the house clean and try new recipes. When your men are gone on missions, you want to find new spots for walks or new films to watch when they return. You want to browse new books to share with them. You want to work on crafts for your men: a throw big enough to fit the massive bed, a scarf for Kyle, socks for Simon, gloves for John.

They constantly tell you you're their heart and their home, what they most look forward to coming back to at the end of the day. In the same way, they're your sun; you circle them, basking in the warmth of their love, letting it sustain and nurture you. They make your life fuller than you ever imagined other people could. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

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[thegreyjoyed]

Ganondorf makesmewanna bust a jut

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Me and my friend basically (I’m anon… shocker)

bucky has a disability??

he doesn’t have an arm.

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because nothing starts ur day off right like darth vader crying heavily over ur naked body

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Honestly thought Ghost would’ve started licking reader instead of kissing her tbh

hi baby bells, or cheese factory tourists… ive come to feed you animal knowledge in the form of tooth-rotting ghost x reader fluff, today are PRARIE VOLESSSSS

Tipsy activities with Simon would include making out, celebrity gossip where you would blab about and he would listen or drunkenly make food which tasted either really bad or really good, no in between. But today you unlocked a new tipsy activity, watching animal documentaries together.

You were curled up next to Simon, wearing one of his old shirts and a random pair of underwear, a blanket wrapped tightly around you with a bowl of chips in your lap. Simon nursed a whiskey, oddly enough but it was 10 PM, reasonable time. Whatever. You were stressed out the entire fucking day, hence why you had a few drinks.

His mask was left forgotten on the coffee table as the both of you stared at the television, the star of the episode today were prairie voles, you’d learned now thanks to National Geographic that prairie voles are extremely affectionate animals. They sense when their partner is stressed then shower them in affection, just like you and Simon.

The scene switched to two voles grooming each other and you giggled and elbowed Simon in his side gently to get his attention, when you felt his eyes on you, you grinned. “That’s literally us.” You spoke, jutting your chin to the screen as he looked at the screen and chuckled. “Aye, that’s us.” He spoke. “Let’s recreate that scene, hm?” He added.

He snatched the bowl of popcorn off your lap and put it on the coffee table next to his mask as he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch gentle. He leaned in and started peppering kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders as you giggled. “Simon!” You playfully scolded, trying to squirm away but his hold on you tightened.

“Hm?” He hummed, smiling away as you grinned like an idiot, continuing his affection shower. Alcohol made him a lot more affectionate than usual, sober Simon was affectionate of course but tipsy Simon was so much more lovey with you. He was like a big lovebird, you debated at least weekly to get him drunk so that he’d shower you with love.

“You’re so stupid.” You slurred as he snorted and kept kissing you, and not an inch of skin was left unloved, and it never would be as long as you had him. Somehow a big muscle wall of a soldier could transform into your own big stupid prairie vole, only for you.

guys i love animals :)3)3)36364)):632)&4!:$2

[thegreyjoyed]

Strawberry Sweet

── Azriel x Fem!Witch/Fae Hybrid Reader (featuring Platonic!Cassian x Reader + Platonic!Rhysand x Reader. we love supportive best friends)

You’ve been in love with Azriel for centuries, but having watched him pine for woman after woman, you ultimately decided to keep quiet. After all, he never gave any indication that he might feel the same way. He couldn’t possibly be in love with you… right?

A classic friends to lovers trope with lots of angst and fluff in between! Based on [THESE] lyrics

No use of Y/N but I do use she / her. No descriptors other than reader being shorter than all 3 bat boys

Please note! This is not book cannon. OOC inner circle, I’m inventing battles and wars to better fit my story. If you’re wanting extreme accuracy this is not the series for you. Long time ACOTAR lover, just now working up the courage to write for the series though.

TABLE OF CONTENTS~

I ── Introductions [COMING SOON]

Taglist ── 26 / 50 SPOTS FILLED!

@kathren1sky-blog | @starlightshowdown | @blackgirlmagicforever | @scatteredstardustt | @kazbrkker | @adventure-awaits13 | @fuckingsimp4azriel | @lilbxtchsyndrome | @chillymountsjess | @chewbaccaversusmemories | @ashduv | @cleverzonkwombatsludge | @lemon-sage17 | @riley13 | @honethatty12 | @firefly-forest | @joosyjumpers | @bigplantdaddy | @writtenbypavani | @minjix | @saturnalya | @seasonallyapril | @the-onlyy-angie | @d3ad-ins1de | @waggel36 | @scarsandallaz

if you’d like to be added, let me know!

[thegreyjoyed]

When among crows vibes

putrid air

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being obsessed with your own oc is so awesome because everything you say is right. no headcanons we die like men

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"it was in 2020" oh so like a year or so ago. a couple years. im sorry 5? did you just say five? five years ago ?

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Philip would be thoroughly enjoying it with shadow co. though, like on his lil militia base there’s like 10 TVs going all at once with the Super Bowl or college football especially if the base likes certain teams a whole lot (ahem.. Go Bucks)

While I do think the 141 would find the super bowl and American football dumb, I also think all of them would end up standing behind the couch yelling at the TV in between stuffing their faces with potluck dips and hotdishes

[thegreyjoyed]

💘 Wife/girlfriend series masterlist

Simon Riley

- Wife

- On my way: being there for him after a mission

John Price

- Wife

Kyle Garrick

- Girlfriend

Johnny Mactavish

- Girlfriend

Asks:

How they met

Wanted a separate masterlist so I can add more - Leya

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QUEEN.

What do we think about price x young!Wife reader who is kept away from the team (for obvious reasons) and when she is on base to bring some important files to his office, world collide

I think it would be really cute if she gets mistaken for a recruit

he's not moving fast enough for you.

you roll your window down even more, sticking your head out, and you slide your sunglasses down your nose so you can meet eyes with the muppet standing guard at the gates.

"repeat that for me?"

"you're not on the list," the man repeats. he narrows his eyes at you. "all guest personnel must be approved before they enter. i don't make the rules, but i do enforce them."

you raise a brow. your manicured finger slides down the steering wheel, tracing the leather of it, and you let out a deep breath before laughing humorlessly.

"okay. i need you to get on your stupid radio and get captain john price on there. then, you're going to tell him who exactly is waiting here, and then after he informs you that you will let me through, i'm going to make sure you spend the next two weeks scrubbing fucking toilets." you sit back in your seat. you don't mean to be rude or mean, you're usually very kind and very considerate, but you are about to blow the roof off of your patience after the day you've had, and you just want to drop john's things off and go.

the guard scoffs, picking up his radio. he rolls his eyes at you before he goes back into his little office. after a few minutes, he comes back out. his eyes are on the floor, and he comes up to your window and gives you back your id. you toss it into your purse, and he clears his throat nervously.

"i-i'm so...i-i'm so sorry, mrs. price, i--"

"save it."

you put your car in drive and step on it. the purr of your pretty german car leaves the guard in the dust, and you park haphazard, taking up two spots, but you just grab your purse and john's papers and turn the car off anyways.

you're mrs. john fucking price. you'll park how you please, and they can get over it.

you're dressed more casually. you're wearing dark green cargo pants, a white t-shirt, sneakers, and one of john's army-green jackets. when you see yourself in the reflection of a window, you realize you kind of dressed appropriately for the setting, without even meaning to.

you open the door to the building john texted you about, and you walk in with your sunglasses still on. there's a lot of desks around, offices, an ugly mess of couches around a tv that a bunch of recruits are playing team fortress 2 at. they're whooping and yelling, but you pay them no mind as you follow a sign towards the office number john gave you.

you bump right into a big chest. you stumble backwards, scoffing, and you pull your sunglasses off as you tip your head back and glare up. there's some big, giant bear-man standing in your way, and he isn't moving.

"excuse me," you say firmly. "do we have a problem?"

the big dude tilts his head to the side, like he's sizing you up (which is stupid, since he's probably bigger than anyone). he's wearing a DIY skull mask, something messily sewed and painted with thick fingers, and you really want this halloween-enthusiast to get the fuck out of your way so you can leave as soon as possible.

"we? i don't got a problem."

his voice is deep. all gravel, very low, and his tone is very condescending. you may be smaller than him, but your teeth are sharper.

you're sure of that.

"but you've got one," he continues, narrowing his eyes. "those nails aren't regulation."

"excuse me?"

"you heard me."

"i did, but you must be fucking out of your mind if you think i answer to you."

"listen 'ere," the man spits. "i'm a fuckin' lieutenant, and y'r gonna talk t'me like i'm one before i have y'r arse--"

"get out of my way!" you snap at him. "as far as i'm concerned, i outrank every single idiot in this entire fucking building. i don't care if you're a sergeant, a lieutenant, i don't care if you're fucking royalty! move, or i'll make you, so help me god."

"simon."

at the sound, the bear turns around, stepping aside. when peek around his arm, you see your husband, arms crossed over his chest casually as he leans against the wall. he's got a relaxed smile on his face, boonie hat tipped back a little.

"well, this isn't how i wanted you two to meet," john chuckles.

"what, you know this meathead?" you scoff, and the lieutenant, simon, snarls like a dog at your response.

"simon, this is my wife."

simon steps back from you as if you'll sting him. he swallows, his face relaxing under the mask, and you glare at him. you don't expect an apology from someone like him, but you guess the way he reverts his eyes from you is the equivalent of it. you don't think a man like him ever feels out of place or threatened.

"love, this is my lieutenant."

"the lieutenant."

"quite right."

you let out a harsh breath through your nose. you don't say anything more to simon, just give him your back as you walk past him towards your husband. you don't say anything more to simon; he's saved your husband's life before, so he can be let off easy.

this time at least.

when you lift your hand to give john some papers, simon zeroes in on the giant rock on your left hand, the several carat diamond that sits there.

fuck.

"next time you need something from home, i'm gonna need the red carpet rolled out for me, understand me, john?" you tell him. john smiles, crow's feet deepening, and you narrow your eyes. "say you understand me, john."

"mhm. i understand."

"i don't mean just making sure my name is on some list, i mean an escort and a voss water. in the glass bottle."

"of course, sweetheart."

he bends to kiss you, and you let him. you put a hand under his jaw, thumbing at his beard, and the hat covers the way he lets his tongue slip out and into your mouth. if you didn't have an audience, the taste of tobacco on his tongue would be enough for you to kneel and suck his cock, but he's busy, and you have a hair appointment to get to.

you pull away slowly, touching his bottom lip.

"you better be home in time for dinner," you say. "seven. don't be late."

"won't be late."

his baby blues are so bright, even in the awful fluorescent light. you kiss him again, cupping the back of his neck, and when you pull away, you put your mouth to his ear.

"your office? got ten minutes?"

"no, sweetheart," he murmurs. "don't have it."

"john..." you grip the sides of his tact vest, pouting. "please? please?"

john sighs, shaking his head. he kisses your forehead before nodding behind you, to his lieutenant that still won't leave.

"walk her out, simon. make sure she leaves alright."

"olright."

simon opens your car door for you, and when you get in, you shove your seatbelt into place, angrily starting the car up again. you're having a bad day, and you're horny now.

"goodbye, lieutenant," you say smartly. "by the way, there's some smartass at the front that i told would have to scrub toilets. i trust that you can carry that out for me."

"'ow long?"

"told him two weeks, but i think a day will do just fine."

"'n why's tha'?"

"well, i'm not mad at him anymore, but i'm still a price. and price's follow through on their threats, lieutenant."

you put your sunglasses on, and the window goes back up. simon watches with rapt attention as you pull out with a rev of the engine, and when he glares at you, you smile, raising your hand to flip him off.

the big diamond on your hand blinds him as you drive off.

[thegreyjoyed]

fucking brutal section headings from the herman melville wikipedia page

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Aemond Targaryen = Lucien Vanserra

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Quietly losing my mind over the fact that Elon Musk has straight up orchestrated a coup of our executive branch and like....I don't even know what, if any, system we have in place to fix this. Like... He's just taken control of the money and locked out the actual appointed officials. What the fuck.