#but if it makes me more attracted to men ill go fucking crazy
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The Narcissists Origin Story,
Vampires are one of the coolest mythological creatures to ever exist in any storybook.
As one knows, when bitten by a vampire, there are three things that could happen,
The first being death,
The second you become weak,
or the third you become a vampire yourself.
And who wouldn’t want to be a vampire? They're powerful, strong, immortal, persuasive, sexy, and I have often wondered what it would be like to be one… that is if i was lucky enough to get #3. But to have invincible confidence, and to have absolutely no limits?... Worth the risk, Sign me up!
If you know a little bit about the history of Dracula, you’ll know that Dracula was written and inspired by the governor of Romania (1431), Vlad the Impaler. Who killed a google search estimate of 80,000 people by torturing, and impaling the victims limbs. But why is he a vampire? Well, because he took away their lives. He drained them of their blood and their souls. He was a taker, with no giver in him.
He had to play God, to prove that he was one...
But when Jesus played god, all he had to do was turn water into wine…
…Listen, I am NOT a super heavy,” all sinners go to hell,” Christian, I'm just comparing the two.
And I do believe that some ‘evil’ deserves some sort of moral light shown on it, however, I can't imagine how much energy one has to use in order to kill 80,000 people. You have to be psychotic, I mean you have to be deranged! I can't even get out of bed in the morning on some days, how do you do that?
Anyway, I don't wanna know.
So if Vampires are inspired by real human events, and with Vladimir as the extreme, then Vampires can't be too mythical, right? I mean if all a vampire really is, is someone who makes you weak, then there are alot of vampires that exist in your very own reality. They either kill you while you still breathe, drain you of all the energy you have left, Or you become one of them… A subconscious, conducted machine.
A cycle of sucking you dry, while you respond with, “Sorry! I don't have any more!”
My ex was a Vampire, and like many, he was also a narcissist. A heavy one… as in..an infatuated, ill one. I loved him, he loved what he could get.
When I wouldn't react to him yelling at me, he’d call me robotic.
When he asked to sleep with other people,
When he took pictures of womens bodies in public,
When there were albums, and screenshots of naked women on his phone,
When he'd throw my things, throw tantrums, run out of the house, and slam doors. When my dad had to call me, and ask why he was yelling almost every night because he could he hear his yelling from the kitchen,
When my mother had to pull my arm away from the doorknob because i was running back to him after yet another fight,
When he lied to my face,
When he lied about her,
When he fucked her,
When he fell in love with her,
I was there, with a cup of tea and a “How does it taste?”
When we broke up, I was very confused. I went crazy. Checked his location, his messages, everything. I became delusional, although I was right in the end. Most embarrassing thing was that everyone else knew but me that I was beaten, and sucked straight from my own veins. My mom saw it, my father saw it, my friends, everyone knew. Like I had a sheet over my head, and seeing only darkness was normal. I still just didn't want to hear it. I don't like when people remind me, or tell me how to handle my business, so I tend to do the opposite. Again, I loved him…and love is unconditional, but he was the wrong one to show it to and I denied that. If I had loved myself, I would have never known him. I spent two months in the dark, and one at my grandmas. I wrote a book on how much I hated men, and the rest was an honest blur. Then my big brother passed away, and that honestly shattered reality for me. However, I immediately got over the attraction and emotional connection I had with my ex after my brother had ODed. Like “Wow, that was nothing!”
That week my brother had passed, my mom was also moving out of her house on a whim. My siblings and I all had to move everything out in five days to Texas. There was no time to sit around, and look through pictures or trophies, everything had to be done fast! We had to get out of the house ASAP. We got the call of his passing on the 4th day.
Everyone in the family was exhausted, and by the end it, just really fucking heartbroken. We all wanted to be was alone, but together. There were days of the week where we had to go to the funeral home and get things set up for the memorial, and to say bye one last time. Reminder after reminder that he was gone, It was too much for us. At some points I didn't feel the way I should have felt when my brother had passed. My body, my mind, everything was jumbled. At the same time though, It was bitter sweet. I felt confident, I felt good, I felt pretty, capable, and at ease… I was also smoking weed like a mf, and felt unstoppable. I felt coldhearted on some days, which fed into my guilt. I mean, I had just gotten out of one thing, and then into this. I shut down, and I didn't want to deal with it.
So I didnt, I smoked, spent my money on spray tans, got high with my friends every night. Watched TONS of Eris clips from the Legend of SinBad, (I just found it comforting idk.)
A month after his passing, I had just turned 20. My friends encouraged me to start working for the summer, so I applied to work at Victoria Secret. I got the job and when I did, I was then also encouraged to apply to this theatre conservatory in New York City. Happily, I got into the school as well. Still, everything was moving way too fast. The weed helped to slow things down for a month or two, …until one morning when I woke up in my teacup of a dorm from the sound of a car alarm going off in midtown. That alarm, however, became the “ping” of many new doors opening for me.
Applying to this school was one of the best decisions I had ever made. My classes consist of Acting, Movement, Alexander Technique, Voice/Speech and much, much more. Each one is a little like a mini therapy session. While acting you must have empathy, and in order to have empathy, you must be in touch with your own emotions. A class that helps you do that is my very own personal favorite, which is Movement. Movement helps the actor develop their instrument, and to also help unlock the past trauma hidden deep within the body. By moving your chakras, or circles of energy in a spiral motion, you can release, and learn to control your deep seated emotions. Now, before I go on to act, I HAVE to move my body. It has helped me tremendously with my anxiety. When depressed I always move my body as well, and dance stupid with my headphones on.
Having this class after everything that had happened, cleansed the shit out of me. Everyone in the class had their own circumstance that they were struggling with. I would cry my eyes out in the chair, look over my shoulder, and see the girl behind me with puffy, red eyes, smile, and give me a thumbs up. Like… “Ya girl, same.”
I learned to not be afraid of my emotions, and to seek comfort in my sensitivity. I embraced this, and learned much about myself through connecting with my body…yet, this does not mean that I knew how to control my emotions entirely when they arose. I had never reacted before taking this class. I had never gotten mad, I had let people/family insult and disrespect me to my face, but didn't know how to be angry. I didn't mind a thing, because I didn't want to mind a thing. Before movement, I lived life completely dissociated, and for an incredibly valid reason, and for an incredibly long time. I should have been way more angry, rebellious, and brave, but I didn't know how to take a stand for myself. I didn't know
what it meant to be “angry” for I have always associated that word with violence, or revenge.
Movement is like shaking up a soda bottle, popping a mentos inside, and then letting the cap off. I’d be sitting alone in my room and then BAM! Suddenly, I feel irrationally angry for no reason. When I looked more into it, by journaling or moving, I found that there were reasons as to why I was feeling mad or sad. That I should have been way more aware about how I was being treated in the past. Of course it made me upset to remember the past. To sit in my room alone and to realize, “Holy shit, this wasn't a good person after all, why the fuck did I let this happen?” I started to remember memories that I thought were dreams. I had become sick of letting people put me in their box, I became sick of people putting words in my mouth when I was afraid to use my voice. I was afraid to go outside, I couldn't hold a conversation, and had more frequent panic attacks.
All of the feelings, all the emotions that I avoided during my brother's death, my breakup, and during that relationship. Events in high school and childhood, all of it built up. I kept hating myself, like why wasn't I more mad?? Why didn't I stop it sooner? Most people have this rebellious, revenge phase at 16 by dying their hair purple or sneaking a tattoo, or by doing the extreme like breaking into cars, I suddenly had this craving to do all of it. To do everything I was afraid to do. Like shoplifting, drugs, lashing out, and I didnt want to talk or be around anybody. Thank god I went to acting school during this because I had many opportunities to let it all out. If didn' have an outlet where I could express these feelings, I don't know if I would have survived alone.
And when all these emotions had surfaced, I didn't really have anyone to talk to. I had ended up getting into a fight with my friends which was rooted from miscommunication. Some things were said that made me think trauma dumping on them wasn't gonna get me any farther in my healing process. I rarely answered my parents phone calls, I didn't want genuine advice, or to actually help myself. I enjoyed feeling the pain, I enjoyed staying in this feeling because it meant I was in the right direction. It meant I was becoming my own person. Although brilliant to have actually felt anything, I didn't recognize this as depression at the time because I wasn't numb.
I always talked to my boyfriend though. I met him the summer after my brother passed through one of my close childhood friends. I didn't open up to him much at first though, which was always an issue with my past relationships. This one though, was new, and we became exclusive pretty quickly. I wasn't totally sure about the relationship either, I mean… I had just gotten out of a horrid one. I didn't really intend for it to be serious, but I actually ended up really getting along with him. His energy, his heart, he was different, and I felt different with him. Again, not so different enough to let my guard down. I knew better, and with everyone in my life ‘till right now, I only showed him what I wanted him to see.
As time went on, My boyfriend and I grew closer. I let down my guard, and together, we embarked on shrooms. Yes, shrooms. I let all that anger fester in me the night we tripped. My boyfriend described me as a ghost ,and said ( and I quote) “You were completely naked. You looked at me with your mouth open, and stared. I swear your heart wasn't beating, but then you lifted your arms, screamed, and locked yourself in the bathroom.”( End quote)This is hilarious, I know, and I do remember that.
My heart, contrary to my boyfriend's assumptions, was in fact beating. Not one cell in my body was dead, for I could feel… everything. I could feel the sensation of the trees, the radiation from the TV. Both were completely different energies. The radiation made me instantly sick, and the trees made me feel both joy and melancholy. I screamed at my boyfriend because I had never felt more alive. It was a burst, a rush, a WAVE of energy. I was seeing, feeling, and remembering so much all at once.
After the trip, I cried until I felt like the baddest bitch in all the universe. I felt like a goddess by the end of it. I also learned so much about energy after that trip, it was insane, but the reminder that popped up the most was that emotions are just energy in motion. I shed so much old energy that night, that I actually felt like a new person. I felt like my DNA changed. Reborn, like a vampire after it turns. I was ten times more sensitive after that, but also ten times a bit crazier. I started to get madder! Not the, “Maybe I should be mad,” mad, or a “Regret” kind of angry, It was, “Okay I am in the present, no longer mad about the past, I am actually mad, i am angry, and I do not want to ignore this.”
When I let myself get angry, I felt my power more than I ever have had before. I’d get mad like a man. I'd get mad at my boyfriend, “Why didn't you ever ask questions about me when we first got together? no wonder you don't know anything!” I'd get mad at my parents, “Why did you guys do this? Why didn't you do that?” Mad at my friends, my siblings, my ex, and myself. I was the angriest I had ever been. When I’d lash out, I would also feel their power, I felt like I was taking it. I turned inward. My perceptions shifted against everyone else. I was fierce, like I didn't need anyone.
I isolated myself from my peers at school even more so than I already did. I barely answered my boyfriends calls, was doing AMAZING in acting class, but was smoking practically every night, and every morning. I fought with my boyfriend so horribly one night that all I saw was red. My behavior only grew worse with everyone around me, and I started to skip classes. I felt that because I'm an adult, and that was the first time I didn't have someone's hand down my throat, or strings tied to my wrists, that I could do, and act however I pleased, because as a human being, that was my right. I deserved to let myself react however I wanted, because I never let myself have that freedom beforehand.
It wasn't until I made my boyfriend cry was when I felt like my ex. I snapped out of my God complex. “Oh my god, my boyfriend is me, and I am literally behaving just like my ex right now” Why on earth would he stay when my behavior should be scorned? Which is exactly what my ex asked me. “If I treat you so badly, then why are you still with me?” I started to reflect on my behavior from the past. I saw that I got out of a lot of things. I have had a good life. I have been surrounded by love, been shown love by imperfect people, who had only half of what they've given me. I have teachers who have lived LIVES, who invest in my time. My parents have GIVEN their lives to give me time to live my own.
How utterly selfish I had been.
My sensitivity was at a high, but I didn't realize that my humanity had turned off.
My perception began to alter again, and I saw all the sides. Each of my family members has had to learn to embrace life, no matter the hardships. We all deal with shit. No matter what it is, big or small, and if you're lucky, you pick your struggles. This whole time I thought I was living a new liberated life when really I was just grieving. Grieving my brother, my past,and my childhood. Pretending to be okay, and realizing that this had been my behavior for a while. However, one version of myself felt less and one felt everything.One was modest, the other was naked. I saw habits in the way I treated others. When I spoke I heard my ex’s voice, and I heard adults' voices from childhood. I saw the way I was spoken to growing up, and saw that I had accepted that as the norm. I had not only accepted it, but adopted into my own being.
After experiencing my own behavior and after comparing it to my ex’s, I now see how alike we actually were.I grew empathy for him, and I hated myself for it. He was terrible! If he really had loved me, if he saw how awful he treated me from a stranger's eyes, If he had known how hurt I was, if he saw with his own eyes as he was bringing down the whip, maybe he would have stopped before it burned my skin. If he had loved me at all, no matter the emotions that had risen within him, he could have changed. That was a choice he could have made. Would you like to know the excuse he made when I confronted him on this behavior? “What are you talking about? I fight with my mom all the time, and we are still really close. That's how it is in my family. That's how my dad was when they were married.” ` Perhaps not in order, but that was his response. Incredible isn't it? I don’t respect people who are okay with their negative attributes. Actually, I am okay with it. What I don't respect are the people who embrace them as if it is who they really are. As if it is only who they are. Like someone gets really pissed off, and they throw a chair out the window that ends up hitting a kid walking by, You're just going to let that happen? “Oh, it's just how I get!” or “OH! That's just Miranda!”
In order for me to feel better I could either shut down again and turn everything off. I could let them go, and remain alone. Or I could keep the ones I love in my life, take the harder way. Learn From them on how to be better. Follow their lead on life and on love. In order to do that I had to understand that nothing will be perfect. That there will always be an obstacle that is bound to show up. What's important is how you face them, and to be prepared. To walk with the intention of peace, while filled with humility. To learn that no one is perfect, and that the imperfect people who care about you, don't have to. They love as if they are abundant. No matter how much they give, it will always trickle back to them. I already knew before that I didn't know how to be angry, what surprised me the most was that I didn't know how to properly love either.
I could either let myself feed off my own anger for my entire life, bringing it to others out of spite, or I could learn from the people around me who know how to root anger out of pure love. To turn my anger into passion, and to transform it into that incredible, invincible confidence I always envied from those filthy vampires. I learned that instead of violence or vengeance, I could use my anger to manifest the life my parents worked for. To build a life with my boyfriend, to build him up. To support him through his dreams and be there for his accomplishments, To have his kids, and to hopefully teach them all we've learned as well. To live a peaceful, and joyful life.This is what I want.
And fuck anyone who tries to drain me of that energy.
Affirmation:
That pain you inflict on me, is not my pain, and never will be. The scars on my skin are from your lashes, held by your hands, supported by your arms, sent forth by your heart. Not once have I touched me the way you have. The baggage you throw at me is yours, and I suggest you pack it up. No matter how many times you try to hurt me I will always heal, but you will always hold the weapon in front of you while your back bleeds. It is hard to gain courage when you're always hiding behind something. It is hard to let someone in when your arms just can't seem to stop swinging. It's hard to stop swinging when there's nothing in your head but “woe is me”.
I am not you, nor will I ever be you. Your existence is an epidemic, and I will no longer spread it to try and get back to you. Instead, I send you love, and may you never hold onto it. May you keep a little for yourself and give the rest to another. If you can't, then I suggest you buy a stake, for this blood bank is closed.
xPixie
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this is going to be long, you might not read it and i might not make sense but i need to take it out somewhere so
babyfication of literally ALL drivers happens nowadays, even max and alonso. all over tiktok and twitter.. personally speaking i hate the level it's reached because some fans refuse to treat the driver as humans and reach insane levels of shipping drivers together. ive seen such werid tweets it makes me ill even tho im part of the same generation looool.
it's just that since there's a perception that apparently *charles only has fangirls* and *young teenage girls support him because he's good-looking* he gets the same treatment from the other drivers' fans and media.
lol at them because firstly these men always fucking always admit he's good looking. secondly they prove that they ALL are misogynistic creeps who can't accept the fact that a woman who supports a good looking man (which they'll never be) have more knowledge about a sport than they do.
the constant he's depressed at ferrari narrative is all over the world by now, it's naturally understandable why the media behaves like that no?
i don't know who the fuck considers carlos an alpha male when that guy literally has the most ''i don't know what I'm doing here im clueless" look on his face. yesterday he was almost on the verge of tears on the radio. BUT since he's spanish he's considered an alpha apparently like alonso. alonso doing these tiktoks is considered funny but if charles ever does the same he'll be crucified w the words focus on driving. max gets told off by kelly in whatever clip of a documentary i saw on twitter, and i fully support everyone who bashes her because heck yes she is wrong. there everyones feeling bad for max and understandably so but god forbid that was charles in the clip i fucking bet half the qts from men would be for him to grow balls and stop her from pointing fingers.
at the end of the day it all comes down to one perception that he only has fangirls. which is so so so untrue. so wrong. BUT even if he does, it's okay. people don't want women to enjoy sports. are we not supposed to support an athlete at all?
deep down it's all the men showing how misogynistic they can be, this time, it's by targetting charles because that's the way they think they can reach majority of the female fanbase.
sorry once again this was extremely long charles' lack of luck and stupid takes of twitter have driven me crazy
Genuinely I read all of them and I love reading all of your guys thoughts! It's just if I don't have the brain to respond immediately I just forget.. and I am really sorry about that.
To the babygirlifying can get a bit much too, but with fans overall I am fine because I feel like most of them do know that they are talking about grown adults. Or at least it is somewhat in the back of their heads. But also it's fans and fandom is allowed to be a bit strange sometimes imo.
Yeah, that weird reaction to Charles having fans is so wild. You'd think he was just pretty but trundling around a minute off of the field with how convinced some people are that he only has fans because of his face.
Some of them are so adamant that I am convinced that they only have an issue with him because they are jealous. Also like what do they want him to do? take off his face? It's not like he is going out of his way to look the way he does it's just his fucking face.
It always makes me wonder about how the brains of men work if they always assume that women can't find someone attractive and still hold other positive opinions of them. Like are men that blinded by peoples attractiveness? They can't grasp that someone being nice to look at is quite often just the cherry on top of many other things.
The depressed at Ferrari thing can be funny but like anytime he isn't smiling in a picture it's because of Ferrari apparently. that's a bit much. I don't really feel like that's the media narrative tho. or maybe I've just not seen that stuff.
Overall I don't think that what drivers say in the car and even to a certain extent in the post race interviews should be held against them. Obviously as long as they are being respectful. But a race with all the adrenaline is a very emotional situation for them and I think that's fine.
But yeah the double standard is what pisses me off. Carlos being upset means he is the only one that cares but if that had been Charles the narrative would've been completely different. I hate all of the narratives I just don't get why they are so weirdly different.
I think it's a mixture of he is pretty, he has a lot of fangirls (and anything that women especially young women like has to be bad) and the fact that he is kind.
But it's so funny because he has always been infantilised to a certain extent in F1 but like in 2018/19 the whole thing used to be that Max should learn from him because he is so much calmer and so much more in control of himself. But even though Charles himself hasn't changed that much it's apparently the opposite and it's bad or he doesn't have control over himself.
People on twitter having dumb opinions is annoying but doesn't bother me nearly as much as the fact that this weird narrative about him is also being perpetuated by the pundits. By the professionals.
I'm glad that he doesn't seem to be too bothered by that, like it probably annoys him a little but he isn't like upset about it and he isn't going to change because of it.
I just wonder if the pundits are aware of what they are doing and why they are doing it. and what they would say if they were confronted with facts and how they keep contradicting themselves.
again, don't worry about the length I love reading thoughts like this. I just need to find the time to give a proper response.
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how do u fuck emil and not like have a breakdown about not being a couple, the only ppl i’ve fooled around with were ppl who really liked ME but i was kinda meh about or quickly became meh about, like physically was attracted to them but it was lacking those crazy brain chemical butterflies at the same time. so the thought of having that for someone and having sex with them but them not wanting more would make me kms, whats wrong with me/am i just too Demisexual
Girl i told you im like hannibal lecter over this man sometimes he DOES make me want to kms like WHYYYYYY dont u love me u stupid bitch 😡
Idk i just learned to laugh it off. Im 20. This is the first man ive met that matches all my criteria, im sure once i meet More men ill have better results. When i start feeling like im gonna have a bpd moment im just like “omg my femcel era <3” and smoke some weed
But i DO get emotional. This might sound weird but i think i love him. I have no reason to. He “objectively” is not very good to me and “objectively” gives me nothing emotionally. But the first two nights we spent together where he held me really tight in his sleep and i had to fight him to get up and go pee. The way he cuddles me after sex. Idk. Thats love to me. I am so happy when im with him.
Im also just the type of person that can like. Put up with a lot of thigns. I had a nasty ass ear infection for like a month or two cause i didnt wanna go to the doctor. I didnt have glasses or contacts for a month cause same thing. Like i can go without. Its not that it doesnt suck and make me wanna die. Idk im just always in survival mode.
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Underground, Part 1
[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!
Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]
Underground
Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.
He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.
“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.
If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.
“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.
Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.
“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.
“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”
The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.
It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.
Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.
Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.
A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.
“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.
“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”
“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”
“Dark tourism, they call it.”
Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.
“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”
Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.
“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”
The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”
The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.
The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.
The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.
There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.
Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.
“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.
“What is?”
“The house, Bob.”
Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…
“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.
“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.
“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.
“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”
“Surely they had to get groceries.”
Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.
“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”
“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.
“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”
“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.
“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”
“And how old are you again?”
“None of your business.”
“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.
“What renderings?”
“Of this house, what it could look like.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.
“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”
“Museum of Ice Cream?”
“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”
“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”
“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”
“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”
“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”
“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.
“It was stupid.”
It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.
“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”
“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.
“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“
A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.
“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.
“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”
“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”
“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.
“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.
“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”
Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.
“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.
“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.
“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.
“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”
“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.
“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.
“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”
“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.
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I know you didn’t ask for it but- BOTW MONSTERS: RANKED BY HOW HOT THEY ARE,,,,
i do fuck all in the days lemme tell ya
ill admit i havent done EVERY enemy but like. i do enjoy making these posts so who knows, i might actually rank everything sooner or later 🤷♀️
,,,,, and if u want a specific ranking of botw/aoc stuff lmk 👀
ahh the ol reliable. the classic bokoblin. he is just a little lad! unfortunately they’re genuinely kind of ugly??? and the idk the singular horn in the middle aint a good look. i see cute comics abt these guys being domestic and thats adorable but also giving them so much leeway bc they’re really Not that cute. not sure what the loincloth is hiding and im not sure i wanna know anyway. 3/10 really kind of. not good.
slightly bigger loincloth only means slightly bigger things to hide :( i rlly hate these guys noses and whatever the fuck toenails they have why do they have toenails?????? s’bad. the thing is tho they have the proportions of a potentially attractive gerudo which is probably what takes the edge off the general vibes of... u know... being an abomination. its also only JUST occured to me as im writing that these guys r just evolved bokoblins so. glow up i guess. 6/10 what that tongue do
ok bypassing whatever the fuck rule 34 has done to these guys, i actually dig them. i find the huge fat ones way cuter than the lil bug eyed ones. in their case theres rlly no, like... hotness about them. its just cute. i think they’re cute. any monster that is cute and also doubles up as a bed gets my vote 7/10 get urself a fella as flexible as these guys
u know what, im gonna say it, these guys r actually kinda hot. proportions arent super bad, the face aint bad and generally they have good vibes. aside from, u know, when they’re tryna shank u. id say one of the most bearable monsters to have to look at. 8/10 im not a scalie
??????????? idk what to say. u could tie these little shits to like swingball poles and beat them with rackets thatd b good. aside from that these guys have like no redeeming qualities. they’re a pain in the ass and not in a good way. 3/10 cute but like. is it worth it?
i mean,,,,,,,, someones probably into it. i dont like these guys for a lot of reason and surprisingly the thing that gets me is the fucking hair why does it have that hair its like he-man just went straight over the top with an electric razor its not a good look!!! stop trying to make it work! it wont! and again with the loincloth??? im not into it. the only thing i like abt these guys is the lil waistcoats. they have some amount of decency (but the implications it makes are Not Good). uh. 2/10. barely.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,9/10. but if you see a lynel up close like that chances are you died about half a minute ago
again. ??? i dont rlly like. i mean. im digging the top heavy proportions? its got the same body type as kass so like. 4/10. bit plain around the features but what can u do. i dont understand how but the igneo taluses are like. sexier
UGHGHHH I FUCKING HATE THESE THINGS okay okay okay like these motherfuckers lure u in by being quite cute and dancin around and then u get a look at their faces and its like fucking JESUS and its even WORSE when you see under their cloak and they have no necks????? and like????? they do that gay little fucking dance that pisses me off???? they’re wearing hoods that give the ILLUSION that they have necks and im im fumin ok i HATE it i hate it i have been betrayed and i will NEVER FORGET ABOUT IT UGHGHGHG I HATE THESE CUNTS -10000000000000000000000000000000000/10 die
hhhhh i just dont like em. theyre too annoying to be cute now. and whats gonna happen if i squeeze one? is like. water gonna come out? r they just gonna deflate? 4/10 tentacles are not hyrules forte it seems ://
trust kohga to send the twinks out on the front line. seriously. they’re not bad tho? kinda small and underwhelming :((( tho i give extra points for the good crazy laugh we love a good manic cackle 6/10 they dont really count as monsters but ah well where else am i gonna put em
now THATS what im talkin about babeyyyyy we love the muscles,,,,, the posture,,, the stride,,, we love it when u fuck up stealth and a torrential downpour of these motherfuckers come down to beat ur ass,,,,, 9/10 its raining men 😎
u know. u dont rlly like. get a good view of these guys when ur balls deep in a battle with them, but the more i get like closer looks at them the more i go ???? like idk. everything about them looks backwards and wrong. but as far as backwards and wrong goes its not a bad look and the boss theme is a banger so 4/10 maybe dont jump on my ass every time i step one foot onto the desert :/
i just. i dont dig it. idk why. aside from the fact they’re a monumental pain in my ass, and now everytime i hear a beep even slightly resembling a guardian i shit my pants, but. idk??? as far as robots go its not like. terrible. they’re like the milfs of robots. the milves, if u will. a rilf. except i wouldnt. so its more like riwlf. but even that leaves too much up to interpretation so im just gonna call em a cunt and go. 4/10 leg game strong
here we are,,, the big boys,,,, waterblight isnt too bad i will admit, but the spear hand is both annoying and mildly inconvenient. its got a rlly big chest but rlly thin arms?? also not sure how i feel abt the strap on beard but oh well its not like ganons got taste. 5/10 kind of average for a blight i think
a hefty motherfucker. a chunk of a lad. big large. the fact this is like one of the easiest blights makes it more forgiveable to me but like whatever its got going on with the 80s hair needs 2 be sorted out. i like its moves but it doesnt hang upside down like waterblight :((( 5/10 calm down kate bush
ok who doesnt like gun arms. and a gun back. this things like fuckin megatron. the whole face plate thing doesnt look bad either. honestly its kind of a look? but its dickheadery in aoc makes me wanna set shit on fire so :// 6/10 hot but will not leave u alone 😔
ok this one is by FAR the sexiest of all the blights. i just cant explain it. i like guys with bad posture. i had an easy time beating it but apparently its given other people a lot of grief and that makes it 10x more sexy to me lmaooo. also it can clone itself which is like. thats a win. 8/10 ganon spilt all the sexy juice into this one
ok i didnt realise how many arms this motherfucker has and the whole hairline behind the ears thing is not a great look. especially w the beard. in fact the longer i look at it the less sexy it becomes tbh. 3/10 they tried to make arachnophobia sexy and it didnt work
10/10 i will be taking questions in my inbox but i wont be taking constructive criticism and you cant make me
#botw#breath of the wild#aoc#age of calamity#calamity ganon#ganon#loz#legend of zelda#hyrule warriors age of calamity#hyrule warriors aoc#windblight#thunderblight#waterblight#fireblight#yiga#i ran out of ppl to rank and then i went wait--#;)
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I am back with a little request hehehe!
70's Jimercury but Jim is a friend of the band's and both Freddie and Jim are pining SO hard and Roger, Brian and John are so sick of it and they scheme to get them to confess :)
Totally up to you if you want to write this one!
Warning for outdated, homophobic language
‘I swear to God, if Freddie doesn’t grow some balls and make a move, I’m going to take this drumstick and shove it up his arse.’
‘That’s kinky, Roger.’ Brian said dryly, swallowing down a mouthful of beer as he watched their frontman chatter away nervously to his Irish muse, fiddling with his hair and batting his long eyelashes like a girl. ‘Just leave them alone, Freddie wouldn’t want us meddling.’
‘I’m not sitting here and watching them dance around each other all fucking night!’ Roger growled, tightening his hand around his glass. ‘We’ve known Jim how long? Five years now? Fred fancied the pants off him the moment they met in that club, but he won’t fucking do anything about it.’
‘It’s not that easy, Roge.’ John murmured, usually the type to stay out of these conversations. ‘It’s not as if the world is very kind towards queers.’
Roger sighed, pushing his drink away. ‘I know, I know. I didn’t mean it like…I just hate seeing them so miserable. Freddie’s gotten himself involved with so many assholes when the perfect guy has been right under his nose this whole time. And I know Jim feels the same way, but he’s convinced himself that Freddie's out of his league. We need to do something!’
Brian had to admit that Roger had a point. Freddie seemed to have a very bad habit of attracting aggressive, toxic men - Paul Prenter, Bill Reid and Winnie Kirchberger, to name a few. David Minns had been alright, but their relationship had been far from the tranquillity Freddie was seeking in his life. Jim really was the whole package; handsome, kind, level-headed, patient and an animal lover. Not to mention he looked strikingly similar to Freddie’s celebrity crush, Burt Reynolds.
He glanced over at Freddie again, noting the look of longing that crossed the Persian's face as Jim turned his back to order more drinks from the bar. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit back and watch his friend suffer like this.
‘I never thought I’d say this, Roger, but you’re right. We need to do something.’
--
Freddie gave a heavy sigh as he leaned against the window of the taxi, wondering why he had agreed to meet the boys for dinner when he really wasn’t in the mood. His mind was somewhere else entirely, and the last thing he could be bothered to do was sit through a three-course meal.
His feelings for Jim had been growing more intense these past few months. He’d had a crush on the Irishman the moment he first set eyes on him – and why wouldn’t he? Jim was exactly his type in both looks and personality – but recently, Jim had been the only thing occupying his brain and it was driving him crazy. He couldn’t eat, could barely sleep, and being in Jim’s presence was becoming more depressing than pleasurable. Especially when he knew that Jim would never see him as anything more than a friend; granted, Jim had never actually said this out loud, but Freddie was pretty good at reading people. Surely if Jim liked him, like the others insisted he did, he would have made a move by now?
The taxi pulled up outside the restaurant and Freddie glumly paid the driver, keeping his head down as he walked through the main doors and mumbled his name to the host, hoping the boys had booked a table in the darkest corner of the room where no one could see them.
A waiter led him to a booth and he felt all the blood drain from his face when he saw Jim already sitting there, studying the menu thoughtfully. The others were nowhere to be seen.
‘Freddie?’ Jim looked surprised as the smaller man took a seat, shrugging off his fur coat. ‘What are you doing here? The boys told me you were ill.’
‘Funny, they said the exact same thing about you.’ Freddie replied. ‘It appears we’ve been hoodwinked, darling.’
He thought Jim might be angry, but the Irishman just shook his head and chuckled, the big teddy bear he was. ‘I should have seen it coming really. They’ve been trying to get us together since we met.’
Freddie felt his eyes begin to sting, wondering if he could make a quick exit before he embarrassed himself any further. ‘I’m sorry for wasting your time like this, Jim. I promise I’ll give them an earful when I get back to the flat.’
He went to grab his coat, but Jim reached across the table and took his hand. ‘Don’t go. I know this isn’t exactly how you planned your evening, but…it’s kind of nice, it just being the two of us for once. I feel like I never really get a moment alone with you.’
Colour swamped into Freddie’s cheeks. His instincts were screaming at him to run for it, but he couldn’t quite get his legs to move. He smiled softly and sat back down, breath hitching in his throat when he realised their hands were still intertwined.
Jim noticed too and immediately let go, face turning pink. ‘Sorry.’
‘No apologies necessary, dear.’ Freddie picked up a menu and began flicking through it. ‘We can spend the whole night coming up with all the various ways I can murder those bastards when I get my hands on them.’
The laugh they shared finally broke the ice for good.
--
On the other side of the restaurant, a figure dressed in all black slowly lowered the newspaper that had been concealing his face and peered over at the couple sitting in the corner. At this point in the evening, Freddie had ordered a bottle of wine and appeared to be in much higher spirits, chattering away to Jim, who was listening to him with both amusement and complete adoration.
The man in black lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth and muttered, ‘Beach Blond to Poodle Head, come in Poodle Head, over.’
Two tables away, Brian sighed and pressed the push-to-talk button on his handset. ‘I’m not digging this codename, Roge.’
‘Codenames are important, Poodle Head. Otherwise, we might blow our cover. And you need to say “over” when you’re finished talking, over.’
‘Roger, this is fucking ridiculous. I’m getting the bill and going home, over.’
‘We can’t go yet.’ John insisted as he picked out the goats’ cheese from Brian’s salad. ‘For this mission to be a success, Freddie needs to take Jim back to his place, or vice versa. Besides, we ordered from the set menu, so we might as well wait for dessert.’
‘Wait! I think he’s…he is!’ Roger whispered over the walkie-talkie, as Jim reached across the table to take Freddie’s hand again. ‘Luck of the Irish is closing in on Persian Poof, over!’
‘And Poodle Head is two seconds away from coming over and kicking Beach Blond’s arse, over!’
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Saved by the Devil (8/?) - Tommy Shelby
Summary: you go missing and a lot of people get worried
Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic..yet)
A/n: I actually wasn't gonna post today but this chapter fell out of me. Its funny how some days are tougher to write and others its like riding a wave. I hope everyone has a wonderful day :)
The man with the busy eyebrows and mustache called himself Inspector Campbell. A fucking police officer. When you came too you found yourself tied to a chair, ropes around your wrist and legs, tight against the skin cutting off blood circulation. He didn’t ask questions first. No first, was the punching against your ribs and stomach. Then your face. He didn’t give you no breaks, not like he would give you any.
“I think me and you have gotten fairly acquainted with.” The inspector say his foul breath reaching up your nostrils. Blood dribbled down your chin and nose. It was you could taste.
His men have left the room, on his orders of course. He leans on his cane as he stares at you from above. A evil smirk on his face as if he was some god looking down at his pitiful creations. You spit blood at his shoe.
He grabs your face harshly, you face scrunching up like a fish. “Tell me what you were doing with Thomas Shelby. Or I can make this night a whole lot painful for you.” He throws you back and all you do is glare at the man. Not saying a word. Not even huffing a sound.
The inspector laughs. And walks out the door. You see him point to you with his cane as he talks to the other men that were abusing you moments ago. You brace yourself for the inevitable. The torture last for hours.
******************************************************************************************
No ones seen you for three days. Ada, the first night you didn’t comeback, called Trinity. but she hadn’t seen you since the morning. The next day Ada and James went out looking through the streets at your usual spots. You didn’t have any Ada just wanted to feel as though she was doing something. You didn’t have any family or any other friends. Except one other person who may know your whereabouts. So on the third day of no trace of you, with a little nagging and encouragement from James and Trinity, Ada decided to make a call.
*******************************************************************************************
Over at May Careltons mansion, Thomas Shelby listens half heartedly to the woman discussing the progress on his horse. He could care less at the moment. He’s just thinking of ways that he could stay the night. He wasn’t a fool, he knew of Mays attraction to him. It benefited him in more ways than one.
“Excuse me, Mr. Shelby,” A maid interrupts May in the middle of whatever it was that she was saying, “You have a phone call.”
“I’m sure they can leave a message.” His eyes not leaving Mays
“Its your sister, she sounds urgent.” The maid says.
With that thought in mind, Tommy excuses himself from May.
“Ada this better be important.”
“Where the fuck are you,” Ada screeches over the phone, “Ive been trying to contact you everywhere and Polly tells me your-“
“What is it-“
“(Y/n) is missing.”
Tommy swallows hard. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere ada. How long its been?”
“Three days. No ones seen her. Tommy please, Im worried.”
Three days ago was when he last saw you. When you agreed to go to dinner with Alfie and Arthur You had left the car without another word. He wanted to follow you but decided against it. He was regretting it now.
“Ada, just calm down. Ill ask some boys to go look for her okay?” He reassures his sister over the phone promising to find you.
He hangs up.
“Is everything alright?” May asks from behind him. Her eyes were hopeful looking at him. She too was hoping he would stay though that was something she would never admit out loud.
“I have to go, family emergency.” He says. Turning his back on her without another thought.
***************************************************************
He didn’t have to leave. He knew that. He could have stayed with May have her fill that hole within his heart that Grace had left about a year ago. He owed nothing to you. He kept telling himself this over and over as he drove back, pushing the speed way past its limit. He begins to reminisce about your first meeting. You were nothing but a chess piece to him at the time but you surprised him a lot in that first meeting. Especially when you didn’t take that money he offered. He was confused to say the least. Everyone took free money. You didn’t. He remembers seeing you again at the Eden club. He though he would never see again. But there you were. He couldn’t not talk to you. He just had to. He knew he hurt you with his words. He didn’t apologize. He never apologizes. He remembers finding out Ada had a roommate. Imagine the surprise on his face when he realized it was you. Of course Thomas Shelby was always in control of his emotions so it never really showed. He was distrustful of you as he always is with people. But you showed something since your first introduction that most people didn’t show their entire lives; Honesty. And he liked that about you. He believed you when you said you didn’t work for Sabini anymore. (Of course he had his people look into it after to be 100% sure) He trusted you to go to meet his brothers, be in the same car as them, come to an auction. He remembers seeing you bloody and a mess. Guilt and rage had filled him up. He couldn’t hold himself back from shooting the guy. When he stitched you up, he liked that you tried to make conversation. You knew when to back up, you never pried. He didn’t know if that was fear of him or if that was just you. He hoped the latter. He liked the way you said Mr. Shelby, though he often wondered how his first name would sound falling off your lips. Thomas Shelby pushes these feeling aside as he drives. He tells himself he just doing this as favor to his sister and because you can be very valuable. But as he drives into the city, a piece of his mind whispers that that just might not be the only case.
*****************************************************************************************
Three fucking days. You couldn’t believe that that’s how long it lasted. The torture, the beatings. They released you on the thought that you really didn’t know anything. You never said a word. They drove you out to the fucking country side and dropped you off like you were trash. You were never more humiliated in your life. You walked, each step bring you pain and anguish. But you kept going.
‘Its Friday’ You think to yourself. You never got to call to confirm if you were going on that dinner. You laugh at yourself. Out of all things to worry about.
You find a little pond as you were walking and attempt to wash your face off all the dirt and blood. You looked half decent.
It took you till sundown to get back into London. People in the streets gawked at your face. You knew you were bruised pretty bad. Worse than before thanks to the inspector. The stitches on the right side of your body were now leaking. You can see the blood drip slowly through your hand. You sigh. Its always one problem after the next.
Once in front of the house, you see all the lights on. Something you knew Ada hated. You see multiple people moving about and you curse underneath your breath. The last thing you wanted was to interact with people. Someone looks through the window, a young boy you didn’t recognize.
“Is that her Ada?” You hear the boy loudly say not keeping his eyes off of you.
As soon as the boy says that, a multitude of people rush out to the window to look out followed by a rushing to the door. Ada being the first to run into you, bear hugging you.
“Where the hell have you been?” She cries out.
You stay silent, your arms limp across your sides. No energy left to pick them up or say anything. You wished at that moment to escape into eternal darkness forever. You see a bunch of people behind her mostly men. All in black caps and coats.
‘Peaky blinders.” You think. You step back from Adas hug and move up the stairs toward the house. The men spread apart not wanting you to push through them. You walk up the rest of the stairs to your room slowly. You can feel all their eyes burn into your back.
Once you reach your bedroom, you sit on your bed and stare at the empty wall. You couldn’t get the inspector eyes out of your head. It was like he enjoyed watching the life get beaten out of you. He talked a lot. You replay the last three days in your head trying to piece together what that crazy old man was talking about as he was ‘interrogating’ you
***************************************************************************************
As tommy walks through Adas door the first thing he realizes is that it seems that everyone is fucking here instead of doing their jobs. He watches them lounge about, eating and drinking away his sister’s stuff. He’s about to yell at them when Ada puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Tommy She came home.” She says, he notices a lack of smile on her face.
He raises an eyebrow.
“She looks like she’s been beaten all over. I mean I only saw her face but the way she was walking…” Ada trails off biting her lip.
“Im gonna talk to her.”
“Tommy I don’t think-“
Hes already at the top of the stairs before she finishes her sentence. Its not hard to figure out which room is yours. For reason being your room is the only one open. He sees your figure sitting up just staring at nothing in the dark. He clears his throat, not wanting to scare you with his unknown presence. You don’t turn around. He takes slow steps around to sit next to you on the bed. You both face the wall.
“Its Friday,” you break the silence, “I apologize for not calling about dinner.”
Right, he almost forgot that Alfie and Arthur were meeting right now.
“Never mind that,” You suddenly get up as he talking, limping around the room, “what are you doing?”
You light a candle on the other side of the room. He sees how bad your bruised face is in the light. And the blood trail your leaving with your freshly open hand.
“(y/n), you should go see a doctor.” Thomas says standing up.
“I’ve been through worse, Mr.Shelby.”
“Who did this to you?” You notice the look of controlled anger on his face.
“Inspector campbell. Know him,” You ask sarcastically,” cause he really doesn’t like you.”
You laugh and wince, the action hurting your ribs immensely, ”oh and he sure talked a lot. Kept mentioning a general, if I knew him, if I seen him, if you told me his name,” you pause, “what are you planning to do with a general?”
He doesn’t answer you. The clocks in your brain keep turning. “Cause there’s only one thought that comes to my head.”
“Why did he question you?”
“Cause you took me to the fuckers house. And your being followed by the way.” A pain strikes through your head the more frustrated you become.
“You should lie down.”
“What did you get yourself into?”
“it doesn’t concern you.”
“Look at me, how does it not?”
He stares at you and though to you he looks emotionless, inside the feeling of guilt and fear are swirling. You on the other hand cant decipher anything that going on behind those eyes.
‘maybe this what he looks like when he is lost.’ You think. You know you could lend a hand through this, whatever it is. You assume an assassination. One the police are having a hand in themselves. When inspector Campbell was ‘questioning’ you, you noticed how it didn’t seem like he cared for the generals life but feared of who got a whiff of the info. It seemed that Mr. Shelby was getting something from it, maybe with you helping so can you. A ticket out of here perhaps.
“what do you want?” He says shrugging.
“I want to help.”
read pt.9
Tags
@captivatedbycillianmurphy @evelyn-4034 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat
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various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!
*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*
Love Is a Rebellious Bird
E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews
AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.
Don't hum Bolero.
i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.
Collision
E | 226k | @tequiladimples
Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.
(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)
the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.
Flour and Chocolate
M | 145k | @danosphere91
It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.
Then he approached the display cabinet.
And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.
What. The. Fuck?
Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.
OR
Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.
the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.
run away home
E | 106k | @hattalove
Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.
Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.
or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.
it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.
this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.
waiting for the tides to meet
E | 60k | @nauticalleeds
Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.
Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.
Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.
Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.
gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)
Do Not Go Gentle
E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie
“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”
For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.
Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.
“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.
When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.
A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?
okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension
Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake
M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings
Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.
one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.
Watching the World Fall
E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(
This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.
“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”
It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.
“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.
“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”
i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.
autumn leaves
E | 27k | @suspendrs
“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”
“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.
“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”
Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.
love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia
caught up in your love affair
NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface
“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.
“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.
“I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”
Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”
“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.
“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”
Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.
just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.
Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)
M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci
”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx”
---
Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles.
Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn.
He also starts to fall in love with Harry.
Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.
i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.
Mine Would Be You
E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo
Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.
Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.
Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.
Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?
exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.
One for Luck
E | 96k | @leavingonatrain
The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.
(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)
again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?
Nothing But You On My Mind
E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense
Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.
i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.
Adore You
M | 67k | @isthatyoularry
“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.
Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.
Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.
i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.
leave it to the breeze
E | 81k | @hattalove
Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.
or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.
i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.
Paint The Sky With Stars
M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag
On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.
Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.
By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.
Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.
Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.
gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!
When It’s Late At Night
M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings
Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.
Or
The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.
remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.
Chasing Empty Spaces
E | 79k | @domestic-harry
The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.
gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.
Resist Everything Except Temptation
E | 100k | @domestic-harry
The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.
“Captain,” Malik greeted.
Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible.
There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.
Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.
OR
The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.
love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!
i’ll make this feel like home
E | 49k
Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”
Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.
“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”
“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.
“Um, yeah… maybe.”
[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]
baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.
Hands Clasped Tight
E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie
“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.
“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.
“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.
“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”
“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”
Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.
love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.
*updated 2/16/21*
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/r/unpopularopinion/comments/e2gfsv/men_dont_conceal_their_depression_because_they/ Thoughts?
Look.
Depression brain lies to people. Depression brain tells you that nobody cares about your problems and they don’t want to help and you’re just a burden if you say anything.
Turns out it does that regardless of gender.
I could probably point you to a dozen posts without even stretching that talk about people losing male friends to depression and being devastated because they didn’t even know their friend was hurting and would have done whatever they could to help.
The negativity in that reddit post is a lie.
There’s a post I saw on here today that was talking about male vulnerability that broke down to “you don’t want to be vulnerable in a real, ugly way, you just want men to share emotionally appropriate secrets” and that’s bullshit. It’s a lie. It’s a lie in two ways.
First off people as a whole aren’t really comfortable with *anybody* shedding messy feelings. Weeping at your desk at work makes people uncomfortable with you, period, end. People don’t find that attractive or compelling or nobly vulnerable, they just get screamingly uncomfortable and avoid you. Paula from Accounting and Matt from Engineering aren’t paid to deal with your shit and if they can’t handle it that’s not their fault. Sharing your feelings and being vulnerable isn’t the same as feelings-bombing your unsuspecting co-workers or the PTA.
And secondly just because someone is uncomfortable or unequipped doesn’t mean they don’t care. Paula from Accounting is probably really, really worried if she sees you crying at your desk but that doesn’t mean she has the kind of relationship with you where she can actually talk to you about it.
*Trigger warnings, self harm*
I used to cut myself. Big surprise, right? I mostly did it privately but one time I was so achingly fucked-up and in need of any kind of help that I used an eraser and scrubbed away at the skin of my hand until I was bleeding all over Mr. Constantine’s World History class.
And I sat there in history class, cutting myself, completely convinced that nobody saw me, that I was invisible, that if they did see me they didn’t care because nobody said anything.
Now, spoilers, fifteen-year-olds are selfish and emotionally immature. It was completely unfair of me to put that kind of burden on the kids around me and I do regret it.
But an interesting thing happened.
A few years after high school I was sitting in the parking lot of a local Albertson’s chainsmoking and reading at 3am because I am a healthy and normal person. And as I sat there I recognized some voices - it was three boys who had been in high school with me all grown up!
One of them, Michael, had always been kind of friendly with me in a standoffish “I’m an honors student and you’re an honors student but you’re really fucking weird so I’ll nod to you in the hallways and won’t shit-talk you if we have an assignment together but we’ll never eat lunch together or anything” kind of way. And Michael came over to talk to me!
It’s been kind of a theme with people from high school that when they talk to me they either end up saying “Oh, I thought you’d be dead by know” or “you married a guy? are you fucking with me?” at some point in our conversation so I was kind of expecting it. I wasn’t expecting Michael Salutatorian-I-Just-Finished-Med-School to give me a hug and start crying when he said he thought I’d be dead by now.
Because, see, Michael sat next to me in Mr. Constantine’s World History class. And he told me he’d seen me cutting myself in class and he’d been so worried about me that he made more of an effort to be nice to me at school but he had no idea what to do about it. He had no idea if he should tell someone or say something to me.
I still feel bad about putting that on Michael and the other kids in our class (though I was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound sack so I can at least recognize that I didn’t intend to hurt anyone and with updated information wouldn’t do the same thing) but in hindsight I’m really glad that things happened the way they happened because it actually really means a lot to me that people could see that I was hurting and just didn’t know how to help.
Now that I am a much more emotionally mature adult with seventeen years of therapy under my belt and I can recognize suicidal ideation as the lying depression brain bullshit that it is I’ve also gotten to be much, much better at asking appropriate people for help.
That reddit comment mentions that women have networks to support their depression and those don’t just come from nothing, they are built. You have to build them. And I’m lucky enough that I know plenty of guys who have built similar networks so I’m really happy to tell you that you can do it too, buddy. And even if you don’t have one ready-made I know there are whole internet communities dedicated to helping out people in tough situations. I know literally dozens of people personally who have been able to ask for help from friends they made on tumblr or twitter or through video games or fucking CalGuns.
Also the solution to feeling like you’re unsupported isn’t to say “well, I guess nobody cares, better just hold onto this feeling until it kills me” it’s to keep asking for support. And yeah, maybe that support *only* comes from a paid therapist at first but a really, really big component of a lot of therapy is working on interpersonal relationships so that you can have a healthy support network.
Anyway.
I do recognize that it is not, currently, easy for men to reach out for help with mental illness. I recognize that there are social barriers for men that frequently do not exist for women.
However.
Looking at the way things are now versus the way things were ten years ago I really feel like that’s changing. I believe that our society now is more knowledgeable about mental illness and how destructive social isolation can be and how to help than we were ten years ago.
And if there is absolutely no one else you can ask for help at the very, very least you can get started with this gigantic list of crisis hotlines.
So.
Yeah. The world sucks and it’s hard to get help. But the first step is to ask. I’m so, so, so pleased with the fact that we’re educating people about building healthy support networks and giving them the terminology to discuss their problems and opening up about the issues that we have so that other people know they aren’t alone in their feelings or pain, but if none of that is enough, if none of that helps you, you still have to ask for help. And you might not get it right away, but you aren’t going to get help at all if you don’t ask.
Also in case you didn’t know it Movember is funding mental health research and resources for men in addition to prostate cancer research; one of their supported group is Heads Up Guys, which has some helpful information for men dealing with depression and good resources for supporting you depressed friends.
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How you and Johnny Knoxville met
Y/N POV
“Bam I really would rather not just sit there and watch as you get shot by those bullet things.” You explain as he rolls his eyes.
“C’mon Y/N it will be fun! Ry wants to see you and the rest of the Jackass are dying to meet you”
“It would be quite funny watching that unfold” You murmur as Bams eyes light up.
“Fuck yeah! we got to go now or ill be late, don't want Knoxville to beat my ass for showing up late again.” And with that he grabs your arm dragging you to his vehicle outside your house.
20 minutes later -
“Y/N!!!!!! The fuck have you been?” Ryan scolds as he slams his body into yours. Giggling you hold him back just as tight as he continues to scold you for the amount of time its been since you last saw him. Which is realistically only a week.
“Hi Ry I've been busy hiding from you weirdos” You wink stepping away from his embrace. With that comment he throws you over his shoulder with protests flooding from your mouth.
“Put me down or feel the consequences Dunn” you warn as he walks towards many unfamiliar faces.
“Yeah yeah Y/N heard all this before. I'm just being a good pal and taking you to the big boys of Jackass. Also where the fuck has Bam gone”. Ryan curses eagerly looking for his best friend. You lay defeated on his shoulder also looking round for your brother who you didn't even know walked away earlier during your catch up with Ryan.
Rather quickly you spot Bam with a group of men you only slightly recognise from the shots Bam has showed you. Ryan quickly heads over in there direction, Bam already laughing at the sight of you on Ryan's shoulders still.
Your cheeks turn slightly red as the men's focus falls on you all smiling at the sight of you both. you remember the names from the familiar faces: Steve-o, Preston and Dave England stand in front of you, waiting eagerly for you to introduce yourself.
“Okay Dunn you can let me down now” You scold at your friend and chuckles, carefully dropping you on the ground as you turn to face the men still waiting.
“Hi im Y/N” you say sweetly as you look across their faces, taking you in.
“Hello Maam we’ve heard a lot about you” Preston replies pulling you in for a hug as you glare at Bam.
Bam holds his hands up avoiding eye contact with you.
“As much as we would like to get to know you Y/N Knoxville is waiting for us all in the warehouse” Steve-o Explains grabbing your hand as he pulls you in the direction to the building. He beings to explain the stunt they are hoping to pull off and how almost everyone had refused to do it. Looking around you see all the cameras and lights while Dave England has a panic attack even just thinking about the stunt.
You hear a loud laugh burst through the warehouse and without thinking you look for where that noise came from. You see a tall figure with his head thrown backwards as he continues his heavenly tune. He’s dressed in black trousers with a plain white top that shows his lean figure with a black plaid shirt on top, unbuttoned. Everyones attention is solely on him, too mesmerising to look away. As you inch closer to him with Steve-o your heartbeat suddenly rises. Steve-o notices how quite you have gone and notices your change of expression immediatly smirking.
“Oi Johnny!” he shouts as your eyes shot to him and your breathe holds in your chest.
As he looks over you notice a surprised expression fall on his features and he stops mid sentence. Your eyes fall onto his as he lets his gaze fall down your body before pulling them back to yours. Without hesitation he begins to walk in your direction leaving that unfinished conversation behind. With nervous eyes you couldnt help but smile as he gets closer.
“Hi buddy!” Johnny says as he pulls steve-o in for a quick hug. Once he pulls away his attention falls back to you. His eyes drag down your body as he ignores whatever Steve-0o is telling him.
“And what's your name?” he finally says as the wind is knocked out of your body.
“Im Y/N, Bam’s sister” you explain as the heat finds its way to your face again due to the look he was giving you. A smile falls upon his lips at the mention of your name.
“Thats a lovely name” he compilments neither of you noticing the fact Steve-o had left with the biggest grin on his face.
“thank you very much glad its appreciated” You giggle as his smile widens at the sound, his heart rate picking up. You were beautiful and he couldnt handle you being so close.
His name gets called from the opposite side of the warehouse. With a wink he gives you one more look across your body, a smirk pulling at his lips as he reluctantly walks away from you. You already have a sense of sadness as you watch him walk away, missing the smell of his cologne.
From the corner of your eye you spot Ryan, Bam and Steve-o whispering while pointing directily at you. Turning you rattention on the three boys they all straighten out with only Steve-o making eye contact with you. With a small smile you make your way over to them.
Bam was the first one to speak up with a grin painted onto his face.
“Looks like Y/n has a crush on someone” He shouts as you slap his hand away from your arm.
“Shut it Bam before i hurt you” you warn with Steve-o dying from your threat.
“He seemed very interested in you too Y/n” steve-o winks as your cheeks turn red yet again.
With a small smile you turn you head to find Johnny already looking in your direction. He gives you a smile before turning his attention back to Jeff leaving you to stare at his side profile.
“I really don’t want to do this was” Ryan explains calling Johnny an ass for even suggesting it.
With that conclusion a loud bang runs through your ears as you slightly jump holding onto Steve-o’s arm.
“Yeah fuck that I’m not doing that! That’s fucking mental” Ryan huffs grabbing your hand and leading you to the front entrance with him sitting in a vacant seat. You drop in the seat next to him slightly giggling as he continues to refuse to do the stunt presented for him.
Shortly after Johnny comes out with the biggest grin on his face.
“Come on Dunn it’ll only hurt a lot” he explains while his eyes flicker to yours.
“Are you crazy? Knoxville I’m not doing that that’s too much”
“Fine I’ll do it then” Johnny suggests explaining that it’s footage. You couldn’t help but frown as he suggests it, not wanting him to get hurt.
He catches your attention again as he runs his hands through his hair making sure his sunglasses run in front of his eyes. Nothing has ever seemed more attractive than the way he looks right now and your breathing halts as you continue to admire him. His head turns in your direction as he slightly tilts it when he notices your gaze on him.
“Do you wanna come watch this event unfold sweetheart?” He asks eyes still on you as he starts to walk away.
With a shaky sigh, Ryan huffs following Johnny into the warehouse and you slightly giggle know he’s going to join the stunt he refused to do.
You stand with Dave as he continues to shake, with a hand on his arm you make sure he is okay. That’s when you notice the three men standing in front of you and only two of them wearing helmets.
You sigh in relief as you notice It’s Ryan and bam who are wearing the protection but then frown when you notice Johnny isn’t. He looks your way and drops his eye into a wink and puts on his goggles.
“Hi I’m Johnny Knoxville and this is Jackass” with that a bang follows and you see Bam and Ryan drop to the ground. Dave holds your arm pulling you back from them knowing you were about to run to them. Johnny grunts in pain as he walks around the set. However, you notice Bam crying and being the great sister you are, you begin to laugh.
Johnny turns his head to you and you point to Bam while uncontrollably laughing.
“Bam are you crying?” Johnny asks slightly laughing as he leans closer to look.
When the stunt is over and the cameras are off you finish helping your boys calm down from the pain when you feel eyes on you. Turning your head you again met eyes with Johnny. With a finger raised, he beckons you over to him. After the confirmation from Ryan and Bam that they are okay you head over to him.
“I have some gnarly marks from that!” He explains as he lifts his top. The first thing you see is red prints all over his stomach. Then as you continue to exam the marks you can’t help but notice how fit he actually is. You couldn’t move your eyes off him.
“Mmhm like what you see sweetheart?” Johnny asks as your eyes snap back to his with the biggest grin on your face.
“That was so cheesy oh my” you say as you double over in laughter. He quickly shrugs with a huge smile on his face.
“Got you to laugh though didn’t it” he explains pulling his top back down and grimacing in pain.
“Have you got those checked out?” You ask as you take in his expression.
“I’ve had a lot worse than this done to me I’ll be fine. Wanna kiss them better sweetheart?”.
With widened eyes your gaze meets his, his own staring straight at yours.
“Mhm you’d be lucky, come back to mine and we can see.” You whisper leaning forward his eyes falling to your lips. You give him a kiss on the cheek about to leave when he grabs your arm spinning you back round to him.
“You are really something, Y/n” Johnny says his eyes still on yours.
With a bright smile you say
“Right back at you sweetheart” with a teasing wink he lets you go. Both of your hearts racing and your minds running with hope. He watches you walk away with a small smile forming on his lips. Already knowing you could quite possibly be the one.
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Types of Simps
Usually, people who complains and talk shit about simps are just men themselves. Its their part of their masculinity culture to not be softboii slaves to women so obviously simps don’t give the best impression to their own male species. However, simps just aren’t annoying to their fellow men but to women as well. Depending on your end goal, simps can be beneficial to your life or otherwise a complete nuisance.
Most men complain about simp’s white-knighting, but I’m not going to cover that here or those any simp behaviors that are exclusively only annoying to men. I’m only offering my perspective as the receiving end and if you don’t like it, its not my problem. Anyways, here are the types of simps I usually encounter in my life (FYI i'm not even an instagram/social media girl but still, you would be surprised how many simps exist outside the internet).
Cluster I (incel rage types)
Depending on the severity of their mental illness, they can be dangerous and dealing with them might have to add restraining order as a requirement.
1.) the best friend simp - this guy thinks he’s your closest friend, he's the guy who consistently make an effort to be close to you, even if you're obviously not interested. the friendship is one sided because you don’t really care enough to ask anything about him and you’re just trying to be polite, but he doesn't mind. he's a simp afterall who just wants to talk about you. he's loyal, one call away, supportive, constantly gives you compliments and attention, he cares about you and he's a total bestfriend material. however, he's never going to tell you that hes just being friends with you because he wants to fuck you. he thinks as long as he became your bestfriend, his efforts will pay off and you’d eventually develop some attraction as well. he doesn't understand that he's NOT going to get a girl out of his league by being her servant. Unless the girl actually like you, thats not how it works, bro
anyway, this type of simp is prone to passive-agressiveness and obsession. Even if you don’t tell him shit, he goes out of his way to research about you. He’s clingy, constantly want to know what are you up to and your whereabouts, he wants to talk to you 24/7, if you haven't replied to his last message within 24 hours he's going to file a missing person report...or not. dont worry, he's only going to get mad at you and create some drama that he thought you're ignoring him or something. remember, simps are insecure creatures so be prepared to hear a lot of simp logic
(I know this type is particularly triggering because of how common this profile is but let me make this clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being a caring friend. But these behaviors are only acceptable in a friendship where there is a mutual understanding, it shouldnt be one sided. The thing is you aren’t even a best friend, you’re just acting like one but in reality, you are just an outsider simp)
One way to deal with this simp is to act like a crazy, yandere chick. The bestfriend simp is a pushover who gets really stressed when someone gets mad at them, especially if its the girl they like. If you nitpick enough and make a big deal out of literally everything he does and say, if he has a brain, he might leave you alone for good. The consequence is he might put up with you being the pathetic simp he is, and you will become a legend known as ‘the narcissist’ that he will talk about countless times to his narcissist victim support group
2.) the pornsick simp - this simp usually has a dual life/personality. He has an incredibly warped view of women that sometimes everyone can already see how hes losing touch with reality. He has an asian fetish but contrary to the popular belief, this guy is more likely to have no experience/success in dating people outside his race. thats what makes him an ignorant fucking simp treating you like you're not a human being. he's prone to show you his weird side that hes never going to admit to most people. He knows how silly and retarded he sounds like when talking to you because he doesn’t do that to others. Again, simps are wired by insecurity so this type usually has BDSM kinks. He gets off from hurting women and animals to cope with his insecurity irl issues. If you upset him he might harrass or try to hurt you and 5 secs later will go back to being a desperate simp begging for your forgiveness and attention (he enjoys this psychotic cycle). Other than that, there is not much to say about them. They are so fucking boring.
Cluster II (actual softboi types)
These types have the tendency to pretend they’re an alpha male. But once you show some assertiveness to these types you would be surprised to see how weak & fragile they actually are, and that all the confidence they had was just a delusion of grandeur
3.) the snowflake simp - Usually an aspie, this simp is a know it all. has odd/nerdy hobbies, is a pseudo-intellectual.. the insecurity of this type is similar to a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. he thinks he's special, unique and you should be even thankful that he has his eyes on you. He thinks of you as a soulmate or some kind of extension of him, but in reality, he barelu know anything about you. He doesnt even know your favorite music. He just created an idealized version of you based on little metadata. He hypes you up, is very attracted to you physically, tells you you're not like other girls and he also think you're special (but still not on his level. he's the main character and you will never be better than him)
This type is prone to making assumptions because of his overthinking habit being the autistic piece of trash he is. Don't be surprised that he assumed you liked him (first). You have to remember, autistics are socially retarded. For him, you being polite means you want to fuck him.
Similar to the bestfriend simp, the snowflake simp wants to spend time with you 24/7, except that he enjoys talking about himself more than getting to know you. Basically, this simp is very deluded and lives in his own world. The best way to deal with this simp is to show dominance, gaslight the fuck out of him based on all these data he carelessly gave you. Remind him who's the boss in the real world, that he's just a simp, and an autistic one.
4.) the secret admirer - this one isn’t really as much of a headache as the others, but still a simp anyways. He’s one of your guy friends who doesnt have the balls to tell you he likes you. he’s been in your life for years, he is the definition of what you call an orbiter. He is updated about your dating life or wants to be updated even though it doesn’t matter anyways (cause its not like you’re ever going to date him).
This simp is aware that you’re the girl he’s never going to have, and he’s contented by that as long as he can still get some of you. He’s happy just to get a dinner/coffee with you. Spending time with you occasionally is like a big break from his sad, repetitive, hedonistic, boring life.
The reason why he isn’t as clingy as the other simps is because he has a very active sex life. Almost like a chad, this simp is always busy, dating somebody. In fact, he can’t be alone and all his gfs are jealous of you. He also treats his gfs like shit once he got what he wanted, cause he never really liked them enough. This simp is prone to drunk call/text, confessing his feelings about you, sometimes to you directly, sometimes to his friend, or his gf. Its his pathetic attempt to let you know you’re his true love, and the only girl he cant get over with. But atleast he has the decency to not bother you for awhile after that.
Other types of simp
I would say a whole other class would be the e-girl simps. However I don’t have much experience with social media whoring as i stay away from such degeneracy. I only have the general ideas but I can’t really differentiate online simps enough. I would argue that their core probably still belong to the previously mentioned above.
Final notes:
If you’re intelligent and attractive, one way to deal with these simps is to collect and exploit the shit out of them. Of course that depends on your morals but the thing is, you won’t be able to get rid of them unless you come from a race that doesn’t look any younger when they age, or if you get fat.
Unfortunately if you happen to be attractive and have an interesting personality there is no way they will leave you alone even if you have a boyfriend. They are prone to talk shit about your boyfriend or anyone you dated so be aware of this. Seriously, this is a fact (unless your boyfriend is one of their bros or is the gigachad they’re never going to be).
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Silent Treatment
[Jerome Valeska x Reader]
Words: 1,675
Warnings: Murder, violence, attempted sexual harassment/assault
Requested: Yes / No
Request: “ Hello Beautiful Person! I'm your new follower. Requests are opened right? Not sure how violent or graphic asks can be so I just give it a shot ok? Can I get Jerome x reader in Arkham but no one knows why she's there cause she seems too innocent and totaly normal, but she's more dangerous then they think. After killing a guard in front of everyone for harrasing her, she confesses to being a serial killer but she only kills other killers? (I was watching Dexter) J has a crush on her from day one. “ - Anonymous
Summary: Jerome tries getting to know Arkhams newest victim, a young girl who seems too innocent to be stuck in a place like that. He is quickly proven wrong when her crimes come to light after attacking and killing a prison guard.
A/N~ Love Dexter, love this prompt. Thanks for the response, I hope you enjoy!
Arkham Asylum held the lowest of the low, that included the staff, inmates, and anyone else who dared venture into the shitty institution. Gotham held a lot of bad apples, most of which were comfortably tucked away inside of the padded walls of this penitentiary. Arkham Asylum was disgusting place, the city clearly not caring about the upkeep of the rotting building. The state of the building was laughable, mold growing in every shadow and crevice, rats and cockroaches littering the halls, half the food was rotting in the cafeteria, the guards had no repercussions or supervision, the walls were literally crumbling, and most locks were broken or malfunctioning. The only thing they made sure of, was that guards were armed at all times, assuring brutality between patients and guards, because lets be honest, who would care if an insane inmate of Arkham Asylum was found dead. It was easy for stories to be twisted where guards were the victims of the whole operations, the mentally ill always being the villains.
Arkham’s inmates mostly consisted of men, all ages, all sizes, all different types of fucked up. Arkham accepted anyone deemed a danger to them selves of society so Arkham became a big mixing pot of problems.Serial killers next to muggers, cannibals next to rapists, even some innocents mixed in with the bunch. The few innocents in Arkham never lasted long though, either being killed or becoming corrupted themselves. See that was the thing about Arkham, nobody got better by going there, if anything it reaffirmed their anger and resentment towards the corrupt city and its inhabitants.
Arkham was it’s own special breed of poison for the mentally ill.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You were fairly new to Arkham Asylum, only having been there a week so far. It was no surprise that several of the more lonely inmates had taken to trying to flirt with you,claim you as their property, you didn’t take the bait though. You opted to follow the same route as some of the other female inmates: stay the fuck away from any other inmate in this god forsaken hell hole. You weren’t crazy, you knew that, nobody else here did though. To guards an inmate was an inmate, all the other prisoners having the same mindset as the guards. To everyone in here, you were just another loony who got caught and locked away.
The only thing that seemed to catch people off guard, was your quiet and respectful nature. You never got in fights, never had a melt down, and always were compliant with the prison rules. Most people were the most defensive their first week here, you were the exact opposite of the usual response to being locked up. This had peaked the interest of a particular red headed carnie who had just been locked up himself. Jerome was a curious person by nature, a quick learner, and a very big people person - granted he despised most people though.
Your demeanor drew him in from the start, your physical attractiveness also helping though. Jerome had attempted to talk to you several times, each time being completely ignored or dismissed at the wave of a hand. You always had a book on hand, opting to sit in the far corner of the leisure room and read to yourself while the other inmates played amongst themselves. You were never one to snap easily at people, having learned to bite your tongue to avoid conflict.
Jerome still persisted though, every day opting to sit near you and talk to you, though her never got a response. You’d think a person like Jerome would get worn out and tired of the routine, but if anything he saw it as a game. He wanted to be the first person to get you to talk, he wanted to break your quiet, it helped that he had a bet going with Greenwood though. Greenwood said Jerome would never be able to crack the quiet girl, Jerome begged to differ, and Jerome was never wrong.
───※ ·❆· ※───
It was another day at the Asylum: same shit food, same worn out clothes, same awful staff members, same boring routine. You made your way towards the leisure area, relieved to get a break from your cell. The asylum ran in shifts: high security offenders had the third break of the day - the break you were taking now. You were growing tired of the sorry excuse of a bed the penitentiary gave you, a metal sheet, a blanket, and a flat pillow. It was impossible to get a good nights sleep on those cots, leaving you in an annoyed state for the day. You had gotten no sleep last night, between uncomfortable sleeping conditions and the loud screaming of one of the patients down the hall, it was impossible.
You finally made your way to the checking station, guards typically frisking down patients to ensure that they do not have any weapons on hand. More than once had you seen patients try bringing in pens, wires, sometimes even getting their hands on shards of glass. You approached the guard station, holding your arms out in a T position and separating you legs slightly so they could ensure nothing was tucked in your pants. You had refused to wear the Arkham dresses, not wanting to deal with peoples stares, specifically Greenwood and Sionis.
It didn’t take long for the newbie guard to begin frisking you, his hands gently patting you down to ensure there were no potentially dangerous items on your person. You watched him closely as you felt his pats becoming more prolonged, seemingly taking his time - most guards barely graze an inmate before allowing them in, this new guard seemed to be getting to familiar for comfort. You tensed slightly as he began running his hand up your leg. “Watch it.” You said it with a venomous tone, warning lacing your voice.
The guard only looked at you with a narcissistic smirk, “Mind your manners, you gonna do something about it?” You could feel the rage boiling over in your stomach, “Last chance, knock it off.” You snapped the moment you felt his callous hand brush over you ass, his finger groping lightly, “Try something, I dare you.” You closed your eyes and sighed, “I warned you.” Without another word you brought your elbow, crushing into his face, immediately snapping his nose. Almost instantly blood began gushing from his pig like nose, misshapen and red. He clutched over, his hands both going to his nose as blood freely poured from the new injury. “You fucking bitch!”
You watched as his hand went to grab his gun, the pistol hanging loosely off his left hip. His movements were clumsy however, his hands slipping anxiously off the pistol, you figured it was the shock of having his nose caved in, a headache more than likely forming. Your eyes widened as he went to reach for the gun, your instincts quickly taking over your rational thoughts. Your leg quickly slung over his arched back, getting in a piggy back position as your hands found the curvature of his neck, your hands quickly twisting in the most unpleasant way.
His body instantly slumped beneath you, falling ungracefully to the floor with a sickening thump, your legs catching you before he could pull you down with him. His head was jarred at a strange angle, his jaw slack, eyes wide with shock, hand resting against his holstered gun. Your eyes widened as you came to grips with what had just occurred, you’d broken your code, well kind of. You didn’t consider yourself a criminal, you simply took out the garbage, only killing criminal who were walking free. So in a way he did fit into your normal range of crime, he was obviously someone who delved in sexual assault and harassment so you didn’t feel guilty about it.
You only turned around upon hearing a low whistle from behind, a whistle you knew all to well. You swore under your breath before turning to face Jerome who took to slowly clapping his hands together, as if to show his gratitude for the act just displayed in front of him. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He let out a laugh, kneeling next to the fallen guard, quirking his head to make ye contact with the security guards wide eyes. “Did quite a number on him, didn’t cha?” You rolled your eyes, your gaze flicking to the corpse. “Fucker got what was coming to him.” Your voice was quiet but loud enough for Jerome to hear.
He turned to you with feigned shock, his jaw open as he looked at you with wide eyes. He placed his hand over his chest as his mouth formed a wide grin, “I’m honored doll, finally got you to break after a week.” You rolled your eyes at the excited red head, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement, though there was a small hint of genuine surprise within his ebony pools. He circled you for a moment, “Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought you were, not so innocent.” You raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know a single thing about me.”
He only nodded with that same impish grin, “Not yet.... not yet.” He reached down, grabbing the keys from the guards body, opening the leisure room door for you. “After you, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” You looked at him for a moment before sighing, going with him for one reason or another. Death wasn’t uncommon at a place like this so after everyone was securely in the leisure room, the guards body was eventually dragged away and to be disposed of. You and Jerome had taken to sitting in a far corner of the room, a game of Candyland splayed between you two. He made his move before resting his cheek on his fist, peering over at you. “This is gunna be fun.Now then, I want to know everything.”
───※ ·❆· ※───
Time: 2 hours 38 minutes (Mania made it incredibly hard to focus, I kept getting stuck)
#jerome valeska#jerome valeska x reader#gotham one shot#gotham#joker x reader#the joker x reader#cameron monaghan
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Can you at least acknowledge not all men and AMAB are not all bad? Being disabled isn’t an excuse to belittle others - an AFAB mentally ill autistic
My dear, i HAVE acknowledged this. Many times on Twitter, and DA. You also did NOT apparently read the entire description at the bottom stating i do not feel such a way about ALL men. I don’t think all women, cis or otherwise, are all heroines. Of course men not all bad, but I’ve explained 1,000 times why in GENERAL, CIS. MEN. Piss me off. You very VERY strongly missed a LOT of context. You have chosen to fixate on something. The other astonishing thing is, despite my apparently causing you so much upset, you will not let it go or move on from it. More to the point, you continue to hide behind an anonymous facade instead of calmly having a real conversation with me. I assume you’re either stalking me or just haven’t filtered me out of your media, which is alarming for both of us. That or you’re just hung up on something from a few weeks ago and haven’t bothered to update your reservoir of information on me before continuing to say dumb shit, which just makes you pathetic. The way you spoke to me last time, it felt like you just had this endless ocean of information about me, but upon calming down i realized you do not, and actually know VERY little. If you actually paid enough attention, you would see that i have MANY male characters, particularly ones who are kind, benevolent, and even center their own stories. A cis old man is the hero of my Minecraft lore. I also love Peter Parker, a white Jewish boy with spider powers who is sweet and fun and beats bad guys! WOW! 🤪 Crazy, right?! Literally just two examples. I’m also straight and highly attracted to men, cis and trans, so. Kinda hard to completely hate and want to destroy something you’re attracted to. And the “YOU’RE racist for assuming Cynder is black” comment is so silly I’m not even going to dignify it with acknowledgment beyond this point. You need to learn to read context clues, study shit before making accusations and be up front. What you’re doing is weird and unhealthy. Also, i never used my disabilities as an excuse to “hate men” or “be racist.” I explained what my disabilities inhibit me from doing for myself and my community, and why i rely on the internet and use links and funds to do my part for now. Has it ever occurred to you that what i did with Cynder is one person’s unique viewpoint that clearly doesn’t bother literally anyone else, and that my sharing it wasn’t some “wokeness crusade” to overthrow society? That’s giving me WAY too much credit, lmao. And despite your bizarre fixation on me and this one particular piece, i doubt you’ve checked it out since your mounted attack. It’s been updated for more explanation, thanks to some points you brought up. So actually, THANK you for that. No matter how detailed i think i am, clearly i need to learn to be even more concise in the future. If this all isn’t good enough for you, nothing will be. Expressing an observation/opinion about something that can’t impact anyone is not wrong. Expressing anger over men when our society is crippled by patriarchy (and toxic feminazis, absolutely) is not unjustified. I also don’t understand where you think it’s transphobic??? If you’re referring to the part about our energies being different and AMABs being more chaotic, this is a common spiritual belief I’ve been raised with and aligns with my Wiccan roots. It’s not something to take to heart; it’s part of a personal belief system. Does this mean i may find trans women more chaotic? Absolutely. Just as many trans men are usually softer. I would know given half my friends are trans men, INCLUDING my fucking fiancé. But I don’t walk up to people, learn the sex they were born as and just assume they’re pieces of shit or will ruin my life or will automatically be a certain way. That’s idiotic. If this isn’t helpful to you, nothing will be. Either reveal yourself so I can block you, or block ME and get some help. Your obsession is unhealthy. Good luck.
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STALLI TALKS BATMAN THE LONG HALLOWEEN
The long Halloween
At times people question whether or not Batman truly has a place in our world as a hero of fiction. Is he too dark, too violent and will he ever truly rid the streets of gotham from the wave of crime plaguing.
From my perspective the answer will always remain a solid and emphatic NO! But that's not because I think Batman is some useless hero of another time, it's because I think Batman is a hero made specifically for Gotham and the broader DC universe, not our world where we have men in blue uniforms that do enough unjust brutalization. However, have you ever wondered how Gotham city managed to sink into the current state of a prototype hell that we know it as today. Well enter the long halloween a story written by Jeph Leob and illustrated by tim sale recently adapted into an animated feature. This amazing 2021 two part masterpiece of animation is about to be typed about by the hoodrat highness himself ME!
The long halloween on the surface is a simple mystery that also happens to chronicle the descent of gotham from being a city run by the italian mob to being one that is terrorized by villains of all shapes, sizes, genders and mental capacities. Some may roll their eyes at the thought of Batman punching another mental ill person into the wall, however this story is actually quite refreshing and different from most stories about the dark knight. Why? Batman is actually a detective.
I know its super fucking crazy but it’s the truth. Instead of being a human man with limited knowledge of technology outsmarting beings from alien civilizations 1,000s of years smarter than human beings. We see Batman solve a mystery, “who is the enigmatic holiday killer?”It’s really through this lens that Batman gets to shine as the hero that he is. Because quite frankly who in the gotham pd could take on something as absurd as a man who kills on holidays only.
The city of Gotham is basically a parable for hell. It will never get better no matter how much money Bruce pumps into it and the crime will never ever stop happening no matter how many criminals Batman throws into Arkham asylum. This is inherently tragic, but the truth of the matter is Gotham was once held in the tight grip of mobsters long before women who could control plants showed up.
Through the story of the movie we get to see that theme of descent be explored. What happens when you save someone or something and through the process they descend into being something much worse than you predicted. We see Bruce descend into a much better crime fighter and detective after solving the mystery of the holiday killer but we also see him slide more into being Batman and not Bruce Wayne the person. Losing his sense of self in his journey to better his city. Gotham city is saved from the clutches of the italian mob family headed by the boss “carmine falcone,” but it later falls into the hands of villains such as Poison Ivy, the riddler, joker and in the future bane. We see once good guy and hardworking lawyer Harvey Dent stop the crime families of Gotham but not before losing himself and becoming the sinister villain two face.Descent is dangerous and we must be careful of who we descend into when trying to achieve something. Good people find themselves in sticky situations all the time and the characters of the long halloween chronicle this excellently.
However, amongst all the characters, the stand out for me seems to be catwoman “selina kyle”. Catwoman over the years has been a beacon of storytelling . Once a woman who wore a cat mask, then a flight attendant who lost her memory, and finally a prostitute who becomes a cat vigilante after seeing batman in action. Selina Kyle kas made her way through many transformations over the years and some I've liked others “FRANK MILLER” I would love to forget for the rest of my existence.
Here we see an earlier version of her. One that puts on the mask of sexy, alluring and attractive but beneath doesn't really know who she is. Across the screen she is portrayed as someone who knows who she is now in the moment but may not have a good idea of who she is in the future or maybe even know who she was in the past. Across gorgeous action scenes and gripping dialogue heavy sequences selina is portrayed at her fullest potential on the screen, a woman on a mission to fully understand herself and how she fits into the slow but sure descent Gotham is going into. In the end of the film it is implied (depending on who you ask) that Selina is Carmine's illegitimate daughter. A revelation that instead of shaking her, seems to be like a puzzle piece that falls into place making her whole. ANd so ironically catwoman is one of the few characters in the movie that ascends instead of descends into anything.
I guess what i’m trying to express about this gorgeous two art animated feature is that Batman stories are always filled with one central theme. Identity and who we are as people. The long halloween ends with a new type of gotham that some may fear but for bruce its still the same city that needs saving and for selina its still a city she needs to survive in.
I can't recommend this film enough, if you have the time. GO watch it and enjoy it very much.
The long halloween 8.5/ 10
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Star Treatment - 1
TBHC Alex Turner AU
cowritten with @walkingidler
description: an escort, a millionaire, a hotel that breaks the boundaries of technology, time, and space, a flashing red light, and a shit ton of cocaine.
word count: 3.5k
warnings: mentions of mental illness, light drug use, and assault. I’d rate this chapter PG-13.
THE BEGINNING
**********
“We’re just leaving now. Should only be a few minutes. Brielle is very excited to meet you.”
“Lovely. I’ll step outside and wait for her arrival.”
As Alex stepped outside, the warm Los Angeles air hit him like a swift palm to the face. He took off his blazer and waited, not quite knowing who for. He knew she was young and at least somewhat attractive, he had been quite impressed by the pictures that his friend showed him. Who knew, though. Girls in LA never looked like they did in their pictures.
In only a few moments, a black SUV pulled up to the lavish restaurant. Alex smiled politely when a small brunette girl stepped out. Wow, he thought. She’s actually more attractive than her photos.
“I presume you’re Miss Brielle,” Alex took a step toward her as she strutted up to him, and shook her hand.
“And you must be Alexander,” the girl hummed. The word ‘Alexander’ left her lips like honey, leaving goosebumps down Alex’s spine. She looked up at him with bedroom eyes, her soft green irises twinkling under the moonlight. Alex couldn’t help but stare.
“Come on, Darling. There’s a bottle of wine waiting for us at the table,” Alex muttered, still admiring the petite girl’s beauty. She smiled up at him before putting her hands around his arm and allowing him to guide her to the table.
“So,” Alex pulled out the chair for Brielle. “How old are you, Brielle. You look quite young.”
Brielle thanked him as she sat down, and when Alex returned to his side of the table, she chuckled a bit. “I’m nineteen. I’ve been doing this for almost three years now.”
“Three years? That would have made you sixteen when you started. How did you get caught up in something like this so young?” Alex poured Brielle a glass of wine.
Brielle sighed. “You’re eager, aren’t you? Usually men don’t ask me my life story until at least the third or fourth date.”
Alex’s eyes grew wide and his face flushed. “Oh- I’m sorry. I’ve never actually done anything like this before, I guess I didn’t get the ‘escort manners’ memo.”
Brielle laughed again. “No, don’t apologize. It’s refreshing to sit down and have dinner with someone who doesn’t just want to talk about their tough day at work or their failing marriage or their kids who are probably all around my age.”
“Right. I guess you’re probably used to married men. I forgot about that.”
“Do you not have a woman in your life, Alexander?”
“I’m actually on this… er - date… by recommendation of a friend to help me get over my most recent ex girlfriend.”
Brielle frowned at Alex and stuck her bottom lip out in pity. “I’m sorry, Alexander. I’m sure it was her loss. You’re a very attractive man and from what my higher-ups said, you’re quite the businessman.”
Alex chuckled. “Businessman. That’s a funny one. But - and just let me know if I’m prying, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable - you never answered my question. I want to know how you got here.”
Brielle exhaled and took a long sip of her wine before tucking her hair behind her ears and looking directly into Alex’s eyes; it was like she could see a universe behind them as they gleaned against the dim lighting. “I’m just going to say this now, Alexander. I don’t want pity. I’m a big girl and I’ve worked hard to get where I’m at, even if you may not see it as the most noble lifestyle.”
Alex nodded. “I understand, and trust me I’m never one to judge your lifestyle. I am the one who hired you, after all.”
Brielle pursed her lips into a small smile before continuing. “When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I had been suffering from it for a long time before I was diagnosed, and it really took a toll on my relationships with my family. My parents were never the best people, they’re quite wealthy and are kind of your typical ‘Real Housewives of Los Angeles’ assholes. My mother told me from a very young age that it was more important to be pretty and polite than yourself, and my father never really paid attention to me. So when I was diagnosed, they kind of just wanted to throw me on whatever meds would make me a zombie and would keep me out of their hair, but I wasn’t having it. I deeply understood that I was who I was because of BPD, and even if I was irrational or ‘crazy’ or whatever, that was me. So I never took my meds.”
As Brielle fell into her own little world, painting out the picture of her teenage years for Alex, he watched her. He watched how her soft lips fell when she was speaking about her parents, how her eyes creased in hesitation before going on about her mental illness, how her delicate hands acted out everything she spoke about. He listened to her voice, taking note of the way she giggled through her story and put emphasis on words like crazy and troubled. Alex usually didn’t like American accents, but there was something about hers he couldn’t get enough of. She sounded intelligent, he could tell that there was a lot going on in her brain and it made him want to hear more.
“When I was fifteen, my mom found out I wasn’t taking my meds. She was livid. She screamed at me for hours, that was one of the worst days of my life. She called me a spoiled brat and a fucking psycho and said that having me was one of the worst mistakes she ever made. That day really pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t stand living with her anymore. I told her to take me out of the trust and to never speak to me again, and I left.”
Alex furrowed his brows. “You left when you were fifteen?”
Brielle rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. I was way too young to be on my own. But I had places to go. For that first year or so I stayed with some friends downtown. It was great. I got a job at a decent restaurant, and the friends I was staying with had an in to this club so we were constantly out partying and drinking and all that jazz.”
Alex frowned even more. “You were hanging out in clubs when you were fifteen?”
“Yes, Alexander. Fifteen. I dropped acid for the first time when I was fifteen. I did coke for the first time when I was fifteen. I had sex for the first time when I was fifteen. I was a bad kid.”
“I didn’t call you a bad kid, I just wanted to clarify.”
“Sure you did, Alexander.”
“I mean it.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Brielle, would you please just continue your story?”
Brielle shot Alex a dirty look before continuing. “One day, I was in the club, and a man came up to me. He told me he liked how I danced. I was like ‘okay?’ And then he told me he’d pay for me to sit with him and keep him company. At first I was like, ‘no, what the fuck?’ because I was a kid and I didn’t realize what he was asking, but I guess one of the guys we knew who ran the club saw and pulled me aside and explained it to me. He told me that if I wanted to pursue that, he could take care of the business side of everything, and promised to keep me safe. At that point I already had no morals for myself so I was just kind of like, ‘fuck it’, you know? Fast forward three years, and I’m still saying fuck it.”
Alex repeated the words to himself. “Fuck it.”
Brielle bit her bottom lip and raised her glass. “To saying fuck it.”
Alex grinned and put his glass to hers. “To saying fuck it.”
They both laughed after drinking their wine, and a waiter came up to them. “What can I get for you two?”
Brielle looked down at the menu and hummed softly. “I’d love the salmon, please.”
Alex handed the waiter his menu. “I’ll do the filet mignon.”
After the waiter refilled both of their water glasses and walked away, Alex looked back over to Brielle.
“I must say, Brielle. I’m absolutely enthralled by you.”
Brielle smirked. “As I am by you.”
Alex cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well,” Brielle took another sip of her wine. “You’re a lot younger than most of the other men I see. You’re unmarried, extremely wealthy, have a sexy accent, and are insanely attractive. I can’t quite figure out why you decided to hire an escort.”
Alex bit his lip. “So you think I’ve got a sexy accent?”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Well, maybe I just wanted to be seen out with an attractive young lass.”
Before Brielle could respond, the waiter returned with their meals.
Brielle let out an excited gasp at the sight of her dinner, making Alex giggle. “That’s a mighty fine lookin’ fish you’ve got there, darling.”
Brielle picked up her fork in a hurry, and let out a little moan as she took her first bite. “Oh my god, this is insane.”
Alex’s eyes grew darker at the sound of her little noises of delight. This girl was driving him absolutely mad, just watching her lips curl around her fork and smile into the salmon was getting him hot and bothered.
Brielle looked up from her meal and scoffed at Alex. “Are you gonna eat your steak or are you just gonna sit there and drool over me?”
“Wow, Brielle. I would’ve thought a girl getting paid to have dinner with me would be a bit less blunt,” Alex chuckled.
“Jeez, sorry that I’m comfortable enough with you to not be perfect,” Brielle blew a raspberry at the man across the table, and then smiled and stuck her fork out to him. “Would you like a taste?”
Alex cleared his throat in order to keep his composure. “I’d love some.”
Brielle stuck her tongue out slightly as she moved the fork toward Alex, and as Alex took the salmon into his mouth, she averted her gaze from the fork to his eyes. He was looking directly at her, so their eye contact was immediate. Both their eyes were dark, the heat of the moment building up between them. Alex had no idea that such a small gesture could get him going so quickly, and Brielle had no idea that she could feel the things she was feeling for a client. As the two of them backed away from each other and leaned back into their seats, they held eye contact.
“That’s absolutely heavenly. I should’ve gotten that instead of the steak,” Alex raved.
“I’m sure your steak is quite good as well, it looks fantastic.”
Alex lowered his voice a bit. If she was going to be bold, so was he. “Well open up then, have a taste.”
Brielle blushed a bit, the apples of her cheeks lifting when the corners of her lips curled into a grin. She leaned forward, resuming her eye contact with Alex as she took the steak into her mouth. She let out a few moans of delight as she sat back in her seat, nodding as she chewed. Alex bit his lip in satisfaction. He’d hand feed her bites of his meal all night if it meant he’d get to hear those noises.
“Holy shit, that’s a really good cut of meat.” Brielle mumbled. Her mouth was still full, and Alex laughed at her poor table manners.
The eccentric couple sat and finished their main courses, making small talk and getting to know each other better. At one point they talked about their favorite films, having a rather riveting conversation about one particular French film, Le Cercel Rouge. Alex practically proposed to Brielle when she had mentioned the movie, it was one of his favorites and he loved a girl who knew French cinema. They also talked about Alex’s two Akitas, Vesta and Vulcan. Brielle gushed over the pictures he showed her of them, she loved dogs and begged Alex to meet them (to which Alex replied something along the lines of “that can be arranged”).
“Alexander,” Brielle purred.
They were eating dessert now. Alex had ordered a rather decadent chocolate mousse, and Brielle went for banana parfait.
“Please, Brielle. Call me Alex.”
Brielle simpered. “Alright, Alex. You asked me how I got here, but how did you get here?”
Alex frowned. “I already told you. A friend of mine recommended I see someone to take my mind off of my ex.”
“No, silly. Not here, here. How’d you end up in LA? Where did your wealth come from? What do you do for a living?” Brielle pointed her spoon at Alex to emphasize what she was saying.
“Well, alright. I’ve lived in the states officially for ten years now, but before that I visited quite often. I grew up in a little town in the UK called Sheffield, but my uncle owned a hotel here in Los Angeles and I often came to visit.”
“Oh, that’s really cool! Which hotel does he own?”
“Well, actually I own it now. It’s the Tranquility Base.”
Brielle’s eyes widened. “You own that thing?” The Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino was a massive building in the heart of Beverly Hills, and just so happened to be one of the most prestigious residencies in California. It was quite elusive. People were rarely seen going in and out, however it was widely known that this was where the most rich and famous stayed.
“Yes ma’am.”
“So, I’m assuming that’s where your fortune came from?”
“Well, partially. My uncle left me a lot of money, plus the hotel, but I also, um,” Alex paused to find his words. How could he say this without exposing himself? “I’m an entrepreneur.”
Brielle narrowed her eyes at Alex’s last statement. “So you’re a drug dealer?”
Alex’s eyes grew wide. “How did you-“
“Alexan- er, Alex, I’ve been escorting for three years. I know that ‘entrepreneur’ is code for ‘I’m a drug lord’. It’s nothing to be secretive about. I’m trustworthy.” Brielle leaned back in her seat with a sort of cocky look on her face.
“Okay, yes. I’m involved in… that sort of thing. Another gift from my uncle. High standing in one of the most elite drug rings in the country. Both a blessing and a curse, but it is what it is.” Alex let out a breathy laugh and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag full of a white powder. “Want some?”
Brielle’s face contorted into a Cheshire Cat smile. “You know, usually I’d decline. I may be dumb but I’m not dumb enough to take anything from a stranger. But I’m feeling lucky tonight, Alex. I trust you.”
“Off to the bathroom we go, then.”
***********
It was only two more days until Alex arranged another dinner date with Brielle, and a few days after that he called upon her for a quick dog walk with Vesta and Vulcan. Alex didn’t stop thinking about her for days. He thought about her in the shower, while he was working, during meetings, he dreamed about her, he had even asked his driver to follow her around one evening to see what she got up to in her free time. She was driving him mad, making him sick. He wanted her - no, he craved her, and at this point he’d pay her every night if it meant he got to spend time with her. She may have been some dirty fantasy of his at first, but in only a month he felt that he had strong feelings for Brielle.
Luckily for Alex, she thought similarly. Every time her “boss”, Enzo, told her that she’d be accompanying Mister Turner, her eyes lit up. As much as she hated that she liked someone as old as Alex, she was fascinated by him. Brielle had even gone to the extent of asking Enzo for his number, so she could see him outside of work, but that hadn’t gone well.
“Bri, you know the deal. No seeing clients outside of work.”
Enzo and Brielle stood against the club’s back wall, looking out over the sea of people.
Brielle scoffed after him and took a drag from the blunt the two of them were sharing. “Enzo, please. I’m not going to go behind your back and ask him for more money or anything. I just want to be able to see him outside of work.”
The tall man looked down at Brielle as if she had lost her mind. “Bitch, that’s the problem. You start fucking your clients for free and I’ve lost all my credibility. People will clown us, and I can’t let you cost me clients.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Enzo. You’re absolutely impossible. I’ll just ask him for it the next time I see him,” she whisper-shouted and began to walk away. Enzo chuckled before grabbing Brielle by the hair, slamming her against the wall and gripping her arm violently to keep her in place. She looked up at him with a spiteful look, “What gives, Enzo? Can you let me fucking go?”
“You’re forgetting something, Bri. I own you. You’re caught up with me, and there’s no getting out of it. You knew that the moment you started doing business with me.” Enzo bent down so his face was level with hers. He kissed her cheek before letting her go and taking the blunt from her hands. “You’ve got a date with Mister Turner tomorrow night. I’ll be watching you closely. Don’t do anything fucking stupid.”
Brielle nodded her head in compliance, and when he shoved her away, she stormed outside and kicked off her shoes. “I can’t fucking believe him. I cannot fucking believe him. I’m going to fucking kill him. I fucking- I can’t fucking- I-,” Brielle cried. She was warm to the touch, the tears streaming down her face seemed to be sizzling against her hot cheeks. She couldn’t do anything but sit on the sidewalk and cry, she had no one to call or talk to help her calm down.
“Need a cigarette, Love?”
A familiar voice reached from behind her.
“Hey, Alex.”
Brielle sniffled and wiped the tears off of her cheeks before turning around to greet him. Maybe In a different situation she would asked him why are you here, but she was just thankful to have someone there for her - no questions asked.
Alex sat next to her on the curb, and pulled a carton of Marlboros and a lighter out of his coat pocket. He pulled two cigarettes out of the pack, and handed one to her. “What’s going on, Brielle?”
“Just work troubles,” Brielle shrugged. She thanked Alex after he lit the cigarette for her, and laid back on the concrete to take her first drag.
Alex ran his hand over her small arm, a dark bruise was forming from where Enzo had held her against the wall. His voice got quiet. “I can see that.”
Brielle panicked and ripped her arm away from Alex’s soft touch. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone. Enzo and I just had a bit of an argument. I’m okay.”
“Brielle, I know how Enzo is. If you’re in trouble you can tell me, I’m here for you.” Alex’s voice was low and soft, he seemed genuinely concerned and it made Brielle’s eyes well up once again.
“I can’t escape, Alex. You know how people like that are. If I ever go against his word he’ll kill me,” she mumbled. When Alex put his arm around her and pulled her closer, she burst into tears. “I want out so badly.”
Alex sighed and kissed the top of her head, his beard tickling her forehead. They sat there for a moment, just waiting for Brielle to calm down a bit, before Alex stood up.
“Come home with me, Brielle. Please. You need someone to keep you company.”
Brielle furrowed her brows and stood up to be more level with Alex. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Alex stepped closer to her, and Brielle quickly stepped away.
“I just…can’t.” She began to tear up again. As much as she did want to go with Alex, she was terrified of what Enzo would do. “Trust me, I’d love to be with you. I really would.”
Alex looked confused, but he let it go nonetheless. He was sure she had a valid reason. “At least let me drive you home. Please.”
Brielle smiled weakly and nodded her head. “Okay.”
Alex put an arm around Brielle and guided her to his towncar. He opened the door for her, and cleared his throat as the two of them slipped in.
“Brielle, this is my driver, Nick O’Malley. Nick, Brielle Roux.”
Brielle said a quick hello to Nick, who didn’t say anything, but rather nodded at her. The drive home was quiet, it mostly consisted of Brielle sniffling away her tears and telling Nick how to get to her apartment, and Alex comfortingly rubbing Brielle’s thigh.
“Here we are,” Brielle muttered as they rolled up to her apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”
She planted a kiss on Alex’s cheek before slipping out of the car.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Love.”
#alex turner#alex turner x reader#alex turner fanfic#alex turner fanfiction#alex turner imagine#tranquility base hotel and casino#tbhc#arctic monkeys#am#nick o'malley#matt helders#jamie cook#miles kane#the last shadow puppets#tlsp#suck it and see#sias#favourite worst nightmare#humbug#whatever people say i am that's what i'm not#arctic monkeys fanfic#milex#science fiction
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