#Anarchy & Attitude
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Anarchy & Attitude // Punk in Antwerp.
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The more you think about it they're quite similar
#I was literally rewatching some paswg clips and realised they had the same attitude and such#minus the sex part#but PUH-LEESE they both are not even big in romance 😭#They both absolutely ROT when hearing about their siblings' love lives#They're also the carefree one in the sibling duo#They're both the ones mostly nagged on#cuphead#cddwtd#casino cups#paswg#panty anarchy#thoughts#its 1 am as im writing this#hhhhh
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Okay, I have a Math test tomorrow, that will determine if I pass or fail this stupid class. But, I'm going to throw out a starter call for ALL CHARACTERS. I'm going to try to write them while studying. They're all listed on my muse page and 60% have bios.
The ones that don't, I follow all canon material so I could still write a starter for any of them. I hope to write a bunch tonight but if not, they will come quick, hopefully.
You must specify who you want, and if you're a multi, tell me who you want to use.
CARRD
#indie Grey's Anatomy RP#indie Vikings rp#indie sons of anarchy rp#Indie one tree hill rp#indie beverly hills 90210 rp#indie harry potter rp#indie marauders era rp#indie glee rp#indie american horror story rp#indie game of thrones rp#indie resident evil rp#indie umbrella academy rp#indie versailles rp#indie star wars rp#indie clone wars rp#indie ahs rp#indie wwe rp#indie attitude era rp
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"Is this the M.P.L.A
Or is this the U.D.A
Or is this the I.R.A
I thought it was the UK
Or just
Another
Country
Another council tenancy"
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youtube
you could write like three different academic papers from this video
#i seriously am interested in the history of anti-establishment sentiment/aesthetics in kpop now#like the one guy with the anarchy symbol on his abs at the beginning of cyberpunk?? that made me GIGGLE.#BUT THE SONGS ARE GOOD!!#and jongho?? thats another paper right there about the death and possible rebirth of singing live at shows. maybe has something to do with#the broader cultural attitudes of the tiktok generation#i dont know!!!#live#music#bands#ateez
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actually i have thoughts about qfit coming out and the fucking courage that had to have taken him as someone who spent the past 10 years of his life on 2b2t
Idk how much people who have never played on 2b2t actually know about the culture and environment there but because it has no rules, theres a shit ton of casual (and not so casual) bigotry of all sorts. Im 100% sure fit has to cut a TON of shit out of his videos, because the first and only time I ever logged onto it it was less than 10 seconds before i saw a wall of bedrock swastikas and slurs being thrown around in the chat. and anti-gay slurs in particular are a big part of the common terminology there, at least according to the wiki and a few of my friends who used to frequent it. Actually, the reason I never watched fit before the QSMP despite being aware of and interested in his content is because I made a point to stay away from anything 2b2t related for my own mental health - the hate speech there is so notorious that I had been warned to do so, and that was reaffirmed the one time I tried to play on it
Basically, that server is a fucking nightmare to be gay on just in terms of the real life community - in-universe, i imagine that would be reflected tenfold. So for Fit to have spent so long surrounded by that kind of attitude towards gay people, presumably closeted and possibly not even aware of his own queerness... it makes sense that he's been as hesitant as he has been to verbalize his feelings for pac. He can do it just fine when it's played as a joke with Phil or Forever or whoever else, but to find yourself entering into a real queer relationship after spending so long surrounded by violent (and most likely deadly) anti-queerness is fucking SCARY. Even without factoring in the general trust issues that spending that long on an anarchy server gave him, there's no way he didn't internalize at least some of that attitude.
So the fact that after these 7 (8??? is it 8 now i cant be bothered to count) months on Quesadilla island, surrounded by queer people in queer relationships being treated completely normally and supported he feels safe enough to (kind of) come out as gay to his son.... idk I'm just feeling super soft over it rn. Obviously it's Ramon, it's his son, who's been talking about getting him a new husband, so he knows he's safe. But knowing that logically and FEELING that are two different things and it's huge for a man who's spent a third of his life on arguably the least queer friendly space in the entire minecraft community to be able to speak it out loud like that..... im so proud of my bald gay cubito guys
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I think Hobie brown is the one character I've seen written completely out of character the most
Like, he would NOT say that
He definitely is. I see people write Miles and Gwen as spot on (pun unintended). Miguel and Pavitr are usually butchered for linguistics reasons
But with Hobie, him being a punk - one from a very specific time - adds a whole new layer of difficultly and honestly. At this point, I can't even blame people.
I think Hobie's mischaracterization is caused by two primary things, one purposeful, and one not. Please allow me to rant.
Hobie Brown, Mischaracterization, and the Sanitization of Punk Culture
I think Hobie's characterization is the perfect example of the way media purposely deminished and trivialized the punk identity in order to erase it's political connotations.
In other words, people misunderstanding Hobie shows how the media warped and censored the definition of 'punk' in the last 50 years.
And that's on purpose.
Let's take the hippies for an example. When you think of them, what beliefs comes to mind?
Peacefulness, usually. Pot smoking. Music loving. And Anti-war. They love peace. The phrase 'Make Love, Not War' make come to mind.
But it's easier for the media to historically display hippies as people who were opposed to war - rather than people who were openly oppossed to the Vietnamese War.
As in, they weren't just opposed to war - which they were. They were also specifically opposed to the United States government crossing borders in order to push a capitalist agenda in Vietnam.
It's easy to say hippes loved communes - then to say 'Hippies were Communist'. With a couple words switched around - sanitization.
Punk is just like that.
It's easier to focus on the response rather than the source. It's easier to look at Hobie singing than to consider what he'd be singing about in those songs.
I feel like in the past 50 years the media has purposely centered the outrage of punk around music - as a targeted distraction, and a method of silencing. This goes from the outward hatred of Sex Pistols - to a President's wife literally taking a metal band to court in order to get the 'Explicit Content label' instated for the first time.(crazyyyy long story- crazy interesting. Google 'Mary Gore vs Twister Sister' - the videos of the band in court is hilarious)
But anyway the outrage of punk music in specific and the silencing of the message behind it kinda changed the way people viewed punks.
Media very much wanted to make punk something about senseless rebellion towards everything, the same way they tried to turn anarchy into 'unending chaos that never stops', when neither of those things are true.
Basically saying 'Oh, those people over there? They aren't angry oppressed people screaming and forming a community based around resilience, those are teeennagerrs. theyre just screaming cause theyre mad at their dads or something PLEASE dont look at them PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT CHECK IF WE'RE TELLING THE TRUTH'
And so people are presented with someone like Hobie, they see the loud music, but not picking up what he's saying if you get my drift.
And the other thing I'll try to keep short.
It's not purposeful, but I think it matters.
The Internet - Subculture vs Aesthetic
I don't think this is something that's been talked about yet.
But I feel like a lot of people misunderstand what a subculture is. So when they see Hobie, they see fashion, and music taste, and attitude. They instead perceive him as an aesthetic. Not someone who participates in subculture.
Subculture is a way of life. It encompasses not only your fashion and music tastes, but it can and usually extends to things like your morals, your behaviors, the spaces you exist in, etc.
Goth, Punk, Vegans, hell - even Nudists - are all subcultures. Because they effects the persons lifestyle. Subcultures are lifestyles.
Aesthetics are not.
An aesthetic is a (usually) visual ambience that is meant to evoke a specific emotion.
Aesthetics can extend to fashion, decor, and music taste - but not your morality or behavior.
E-girls, Emos, Hipsters, what have you - all aesthetics as they do not encompass morals, or behaviors.
And because of that - there are things that do or don't make you a punk. But there aren't really things that do or don't 'make you emo'.
Aesthetics don't have conditions, but subcultures do.
You have to be anti-government to be punk. You don't have to hate your life to be emo.
(Which is why when people bring this up, people are quick to call 'gatekeeping!' Because in the context of aethetics gatekeeping is seen as unneccesary, whereas in subcultures 'gatekeping' is more so protecting the underlying beliefs and motivations of the movement. People who see Hobie as an aesthetic will find these conditions odd because they're not seeing his punkness as a subculture.)
Today on the internet, it's a lot more common and easy to engage in an aesthetic. It's not uncommon for someone to purposefully pick an aesthetic - and go all out - simply because they like it. It's great. I engage with an aesthetic all the time.
But because of that, when people see Hobie it's easy to immediately be like 'oh okay hes doing it out of fashion hes doing it because he vibes with it cool.'
They look at Hobie the way they would look at an eboy (do those still exist).
______________________________________________
Sooo mixing the censored image of a punk along with the modern-day instinct to perceive something as an aesthetic rather than a way of life kinda causes.....this.
A Hobie tag were a lot of people completely misunderstand who he is as a person and his motivations as a superhero outside of 'I hate the establishment'.
Plus add in a dash of people just being totally blank on 70's politics. The Vietnam War, Margaret Thatcher coming to power, the IRA, etc. - all of those things I think tells us a lot about Hobie. I'm currently on a piece about that and an explainer of most of those events. Or if you want a brief rundown please feel free to ask, I'll do my best.
If you wanna know Hobie more - don't listen to punk music. Go read the lyrics, if you get what I mean. They truly do have something to say.
Hope this made some sense, thanks for reading if you made it this far :) also no proofread we die like kings but ill most likely do it later and delete this note.
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Astrology: Uranus in the houses
Uranus is righteous. Uranus is compelled to uphold values and beliefs for the greater good. Unlike Pluto, which destroys for the purpose of transforming, or Mars that destroys for the purpose of overcoming, Uranus destroys for the sake of what is considered right and fair. It will destroy in the name of truth and equity. It is the ultimate rebel and anti-authoritarion. It causes chaos in the face of resistance.
The house with uranus in it must act righteously, and the desired results must be righteous. Otherwise, volatility occurs.
1st house - You see the world differently and sometimes can't believe that you are forced to live in the constraints of society. Use your presence righteously to help others who are alienated.
2nd house - Spend money unselfishly. What you give to others will come back unexpectedly. Perhaps you don't even "believe in money," and you understand it as a created concept that keeps the poor suffering and the rich richer. You value unusual items and gifts.
3rd house - Others find it difficult to understand you and follow your chain of thoughts. You may get frustrated and exhausted by this, but you try to always speak your truth no matter what. Do this, and those who understand will love you. The ones that do not understand will be left behind. Use your words to advocate for others less fortunate in your community. The more you are involved in sibling drama, the worse it will get.
4th house - It's hard to find solid ground to call your home, but the more you hold onto the past is the more sudden and unexpected shake ups will occur. Practice empathy towards your family, and you will be truly empathetic to yourself.
5th house - Be respectful and kind in love. Do not fuck with others hearts, or it will come back around. Be open about the strangeness and taboos that you seek from the beginning. Sudden wins and loses in gambling. Unexpected accidents with children or pregnancy. Consider revolutionary ideas around these topics and how you can advocate for others in such positions.
6th house - You're compelled to fight authoritarian figures in your day and in your society because you hate being controlled. Step outside of the defensive fight and come up with your own routine and process without expecting others to agree to follow along.
7th house - Approach others with a fair and equal attitude. The more you celebrate the difference in others, the more it will be celebrated in you. You seek unusual partnerships and have open ideas about marriage, however, this must be actioned with consent.
8th house - Respect the property of others and do not fight over inheritance for selfish reasons. Embrace the sudden changes and loss. Fighting against it will cause more chaos.
9th house - Take ownership of your own learning. Your views and beliefs are against the norm and for the bettering of society. Just don't let your ego get so attached to your opinion that you close yourself off to learning. Otherwise, a greater force will have no choice but to continuously shake up your beliefs.
10th house - You are viewed by others as "different" or "strange." You should work to change society's perceptions, not to justify your strangeness, but to free others of stigma and discrimination.
11th house - You are the natural humanitarian. Its easy to get suddenly swept up in revolutionary ideas. Earn your money outside of the norm. Be careful when you dream strange and big for society. It must be with the purpose of benefiting those who need it, not just anarchy for the sake of defiance.
12th house - You have a strong hidden desire to break away and be free. You want to travel and explore alone. However, you can not avoid your generational karma. It follows you everywhere. The more open you are to understanding this, the more pleasant surprises will be delivered to you in unusual ways.
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Can I get headcanons for panty anarchy x reader?
(PASWG) YANDERE! PANTY ANARCHY x READER: General Headcannons
Thank you for ordering!
Come again soon!
Oooh nice one!
Panty Anarchy as a yandere I see as one of the less dangerous yandere's in this verse though to be fair none of them are THAT dangerous.
Not to say she isn't bad though. Far fucking from it!
I see her as an Obsessive, Clingy and Jealous kind of yandere. Perhaps Semi-Manipulative with a tinge of sadism too.
Obsessive in the way she just adores you. She thinks you're just the cutest thing and absolutely loves to tease you. Panty likes learning about you, Collecting some of your items
Clingy in the way she always has a hand touching you somewhere (I am now realising how bad that sounds once I type it out). An arm slugged over your shoulder, Hand holding as she takes you along. Panty is always following you around, Talking your ear off usually.
Jealous in the way that she just does NOT like anyone talking to you. Anyone that does interact with you she instantly grows a strong distaste for, Why would you be talking to anyone when she is right here? Panty's an angel, The hottest AND the most charming person you've met so why are you talking to them?
Leads us onto our next point. Semi-Manipulative in the way she instantly bad talks them to you, A lot of cuss words and disgusting metaphors. I don't think Panty's even aware she's manipulating you and changing your worldview, She tells you she gets a "Bad vibe" from them and to stay away.
And finally, Semi-Sadistic in the way she likes to tease you. Panty enjoys bantering with you and taking shots at one another, Loving the expressions of hurt or any reaction you may give. Don't worry though, If it gets too much she will apologise as she lazily tosses you a snack as payment.
She doesn't really remember how her obsession started, Panty just saw you one day said "God damn! They're HOT!" and your fate was sealed.
Panty, Unlike other yandere's wastes no time on approaching you. Instantly strutting up to you and starting to flirt with you to no end. At first, Panty treats this like any other man or woman she's trying to get with.
But when you start turning down her advances, She's standing there stunned. Even more so when you start hitting her back with her own lines, Matching her own flirtatious attitude perfectly.
Panty stands there flustered for the first time in her life. She can't say anything as you flirt back to her, Every little word you say makes her blush profusely. All before a shot of blood erupts from her nose and she falls unconscious on the floor.
Afterwards, She's hooked.
It's not just sexual anymore. Panty feels romantically attracted to you too, At first she finds this icky since romance just isn't her deal. Whenever Stocking mocks her for how she's feeling Panty is suddenly more defensive.
But once she finally settles with it her eyes are set on you entirely. Her hook-ups become less frequent since she's so busy on befriending and hopefully getting you in her bed.
Panty starts following you around. She begins to tease you, It's her way of talking. She keeps making innuendo's and hints at her feelings, You however shrug it off as you both start to gain somewhat of a friendship and see it banter. For you at least, Panty sees it waaaay differently.
Panty, As your relationship continues grows more and more enthralled in you. To the point she even starts slacking off when killing ghosts, Stocking is annoyed by this but Panty could not give a fuck.
Panty constantly mocks you. Sometimes pushing you around in a flirtatious way but nothing more than that.
She really starts to lean into the romantic stuff, Though she is not experienced in it whatsoever. It's also the reason why it comes off as banter when she shoves a bouquet in your hand, Her inexperience makes it look playful and platonic.
This starts to irritate Panty though she doesn't say anything about it. She believes if she throws enough bouquets into your hands and tosses you enough chocolate (It's Stockings) she'll date you soon enough.
That mentality only stops however once you start to go out with other friends.
Panty is absolutely baffled why. She's been working her ass off to try and get into your pants yet you want to hang out with other people? Panty is the hottest bitch here, Why the hell would you want to talk to anyone else?
Her jealous tendencies instantly kick in and she starts ranting off to you about the people you've been hanging around. She's throwing out every cuss word she can think of (its in the four figure digits) and starts telling you how horrible they are.
You instantly start telling her to back off. These are your friends you've known all your life and you've only known her for maybe a few months, She's acting real controlling and you don't like it.
After her blow-up at you, You decide you should start distancing yourself from her. Much to her chagrin of course, Especially once she see's that the time you spent with her is spent with them now.
Even more so when you seem to be getting.. Intimately close.
That's when she just can't handle it. Panty couldn't give two fucks if you cry or scream, She shoots your partner square in the head with a gun. Barely giving a shit once you yell out and run away.
Panty doesn't understand it either as she chases after you. Quickly catching up due to her angelic strength as she tackles you to the ground, Getting on top of you and threatening you at gunpoint.
You're crying as she acts just as normal as she usually does. Still throwing what she considers banter at you, You try to get away but she's too strong for you to do anything about it.
Before you know it you're thrown into the back of her car and driven off towards the church.
Now you enter the domestic stage.
You live in Panty's room from now on. Ignoring all the suggestive stuff you're basically locked in there forever, She doesn't let you out except to go to the bathroom.
Panty really could care less. She doesn't take anything seriously. While she is completely in love with you that doesn't mean she's delusional, Don't try to manipulate her into letting you out because she will figure it out.
She won't force anything on you other than maybe sleeping together and physical affection. Even though she is rather horny 24/7 she understands the importance of consent and won't do anything you're not comfortable with sexually.
Not romantically though. Panty still expects a kiss or two and keeps up with her touchy attitude. This time it's more intimate since she's decided courting is over.
Hugging, Cuddling, Lying in bed with her or general indoor PDA is all the rage with her. She's still new to this romantic stuff (Or in her words: "She feels like a fuckin' virgin again") and still get's flustered.
Panty loves you a lot but she doesn't say it. Her love language is touch and quality time, If you try to get her to admit it she'll get huffy and mock you more
If you try and escape it's most definetly possible. Though trust me it would be TOUGH. Gaining her trust or pretending to love her more than you actually do would be a good way.
Afterwards once she lowers her guard and leaves the door unlocked you could make a run for it.
If you do manage to get out she would be PISSED. Like you've been playing her this entire time and she's bloody angry, Hell and heaven are shaking rn kinda angry.
Panty would 24/7 be looking for you. She doesn't care who she has to diddle to get you back, She will, At any cost.
Once she does she'll drag you back screaming and crying by the hair or your legs, Yelling and cursing you out as you're unable to get out.
Once you're back she will NOT trust you again, Not for a long while. Not for a good few years. Your room will be double padlocked and you'll be locked in a closet when she's away for a few weeks.
Good luck :)
#yandere#yandere x reader#tw yandere#moodboard#yandere x you#female yandere#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#yandere x willing reader#panty and stocking#panty anarchy#panty x reader#paswg#panty anarchy x reader#yandere panty#yandere panty anarchy#yandere panty anarchy x reader#yandere panty x reader#panty and stocking with garterbelt#panty and stocking fanfic#paswg panty#paswg style#paswg x reader#yandere paswg#yandere imagines#paswg fanfic
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Meet Wednesday and Enid's Children
When Wednesday ingests a special plant from her mother's garden, it allows her to gain the ability to produce two children with both her DNA and Enid's DNA. Together, Wednesday and Enid's children represent both the harmony and anarchy of their lives...
Growing up as someone born to two outcasts with an unprecedented mix of powers and heritage, Harmony has always wanted to bring all types of people in the world closer together. Harmony fell in love with her childhood best friend: Megan Zimmerman, a normie, who became one of the first non-outcasts to attend Nevermore Academy. Harmony has difficulties understanding her psychic visions at times, and often has anxiety about her future. However when her loved ones are in danger, nothing will stop Harmony from unleashing her full werewolf fury on any enemies before her.
Ana has always grown up with a more unique personality; embodying a mix of Enid's excitement and upbeat attitude, but also having many of Wednesday's more deadly abilities, along with her disinterest in conforming to the world around her. Ana grew up feeling a bit of disconnect with her family due to having none of the powers her moms and twin sister had. However upon beginning a career as an underage free lance bounty hunter, she has found a way to find her place in the world. Despite the lack of powers, she always finds a way to defeat any obstacle in her way... even though often, people don't understand how.
*Pictures by @emeriart
Check out my HUGE Wenclair Series to Learn All About Them:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/WenclairFamily (T-rated version of my stories)
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14168842/1/The-Passion-of-a-Moment-Enid-and-Wednesday-s-Family-and-Legacy (M-rated version of my stories)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/43420609 (alternate link for M-rated version of my stories)
#wenclair#enid sinclair#wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday x enid#wednesday fanfiction#wenclair fanfiction#enid x wednesday#wenclair fanart
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Boxtobier ⊗ Day 1
"Go Big or Gourd Home.”
Pairing: Toby Rogers X GN!Reader
Theme: "Pumpkins." & "I've Got You.”
Rating: (PG-13)
Words: 3.9k
Trigger Warning(s): Vulgar Language & Descriptions of Scars.
The rights to this character, "Ticci Toby," fully belong to Kastoway.
This is a fictional, harmless piece of writing; do not incorporate it into your daily life.
"I saw this on TikTok once!" Toby tried to speak before you cut him off. "Stop. Stop right there—we are not adding fucking mayo to this pumpkin pie."
You may have been trying to make a mess of the place with the poor excuse of trying to make a pie. But you weren’t about to add mayonnaise to this thing.
You sighed; maybe this wasn’t the best way to get payback on Tim.
⋇⊶⊰⊗⊱⊷⋇
An hour before this deranged chaos, you’d been called down by Brian and Tim.
This wasn’t anything brand new; you were usually issued some requests, among other things, like a few tips, reminders, and things to do while they were out on their mission.
But instead, this time, you were greeted with a heap of shit. That heap was a very unwanted critique of your work performance.
Of course, it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle constructive criticism. No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was his sassy little Southern attitude.
⋇⊶⊰⊗⊱⊷⋇
Brian had been leaning against the wall closest to the front door in his typical canary hoodie. He wasn’t wearing his ski mask yet, instead clutching onto the fabric with a shit-eating grin. He watched you both silently, like a hawk above two bickering rabbits.
"I know you can do better than... well, that."
Tim sighed, making direct eye contact with you while baring a half-lidded expression.
He hadn’t seemed bothered by his last-second addition; in fact, he seemed relaxed, placing his hands into his jeans pockets.
He didn’t harp on it too much but made it clear he wasn’t impressed by your "lackluster conduct" on your last mission. It was his professional way of saying he thought your way of handling your missions was half-assed and messy.
But, to you, it wasn’t any of his business to judge and stalk how well you performed solo. You knew you were the newest addition to the proxies, but you were just as capable as any other proxy, if not better.
So, in a childish backstab, you invited Toby (of all people) to make a pumpkin pie with you.
To the average person, making a pumpkin pie was an extremely nice thing to do with friends. But the thing was, you weren’t in it for the pie.
You were in it for the anarchy of a mess Toby was going to mindlessly create, and he was more than happy to oblige, thinking this was just a cute, innocent activity you two were going to bond over.
Currently, you had just shoved the pie into the rust-covered oven; it was finally semi-done, and all you had to do now was let the turmoil simmer.
Taking a swift and profound inhale, you let your shoulders fall. Considering all things, your plan to get revenge on Tim was going perfectly.
Taking the time to scan the granite countertop, you found that flour had been recklessly scattered and even dumped nearly all over the place. To add to this disaster, the pumpkin puree you two had fought with ended up everywhere, including the ceiling.
Admiring the mess you bet Toby would make with a devilish smile, you turned to your fawn-headed counterpart. He blinked slowly, his usual sarcastic, hyper personality dimming to detachment.
He took a sluggish, staggered exhale like he finally took in the severity of the mess you two made.
"...Tim’s going to kill us," he stuttered, fumbling over his words while mindlessly furrowing his thick eyebrows.
Looking at his face, a mix of pumpkin and flour was streaked all over his soft, distressed features. From his freckles to his scars, the ingredients covered just about all of him. It was even on the shitty apron he stole that read, "To-do list: Let's Get Griddy Gang." (What deranged teen did he steal that from?)
The corners of your lips curled upward as he watched a mischievous glint appear in your eyes. "I hope so."
"What—are you a masochist? -I-... never mind. Don’t answer that." He huffed, shivering from the chest up.
Not because he was cold, but because he just functioned like that.
He swallowed thickly, watching the kitchen timer slowly dial down. He couldn’t accept the fact that you genuinely wanted to make Tim hate your guts, so he just watered it down to you being clinically insane.
Although he wasn’t too off target.
You had your entire scheme planned out on a whim; once the pumpkin pie was done, you’d place it on the countertop and immediately leave for your mission with Toby, all right before your "roommates" got back.
Staying in a still, dazing silence, you decided you’d go ahead and get the most arguably important element you needed for this dessert. The thing that’d tie it all together, like the cherry on top of the hurricane.
The whipped cream.
Leaving the lankier man’s side, you traversed through the disordered mess to reach the fridge.
Heaving the steel door open, you were hit with a frigid breeze of air that’d been accumulating inside all day. Ignoring the cold, you allowed your eyes to filter through all the items. From the pickle jar, milk, and beer to the black body bag.
Until you saw it. You immediately reached up to the skinny aluminum can, and your warm palms quickly reacted to the cold metal. However, something was off.
It was light.
His gaze retreated from yours, tension rising in his limbs. He sank inward, his posture shrimping forward as you eyed his motions. He scratched his palm, clearly trying to avoid your suspicions.
He mumbled sharply, narrowing his eyes while feeling his throat constrict, "I was hungry—what else was I supposed to eat? - Pickles?"
You sighed, dismissing his defensive behavior as you brought the half-empty can to the nasty countertop. You didn’t get why he couldn’t just admit it and move on. You didn’t understand why he had to get so bent out of shape for being called out on something as stupid as that.
Your eyes apprehended the surrounding clutter with satisfaction. Dropping his behavior, you softly nodded your head to the wreckage of the kitchen. As disorienting as it looked to the average person, the mess had looked serene to you.
Even with Toby’s unclear personality, you had to admit you enjoyed his presence. Having to live in this cabin in the middle of nowhere was mind-wrenching and would make even the sanest person question things.
Especially since you worked under that thing.
Although the people you considered to be your current coworkers weren’t all that bad, when you reached the top, you were finally separated from the others. After that, your life had become substantially more placid.
It wasn’t to say the work wasn’t harder than before, because it was. But at least here you had real free time. You had time to clear your mind away from all the horrors of your job without being bothered by a coal-haired, tweaked-out serial killer.
Plus, Kate, Tim, Brian, and Toby were easier to stand than the others you had to work with, and unlike the others, you didn’t mind spending time with them. But you just wished you could’ve all met under different circumstances. (Not that you’d ever admit that to any of them.)
Finally placing the whipped cream on top of the cakey debris, Toby decided he’d continue the small talk, "So, uh, what are we going to do about the mess?"
He watered the situation down, knowing you both could visually see the multitude of the destruction.
"Nothing," you replied instantaneously as he stiffened at your words.
His view flickered toward you as his mouth slightly hung open, forming a silent "O." By his expression, you could tell he was starting to actually believe you had a death wish.
He muttered under his breath, almost not believing what you were saying, "Why?"
You kept quiet, deciding whether or not telling him the truth about why he was here would be a good idea or not. You knew he had anger issues, but you didn’t know if your deceitful actions would set him off or not.
But yet again, lying would just escalate the problem.
"...To get back at Tim," you exhaled softly, knowing just how childish it sounded.
He tilted his head at you. To him, the words that came from your mouth were foreign. He didn’t know how to take being associated with your crimes, but he didn’t mind it all that much.
He just thought you were stupid.
"Yeah, 'cause that’s a good fucking idea." He chuckled at you, his healed mouth tear contorting upward.
In a hush, he still had a smile indented into his features. He wasn’t going to shoot down your plans entirely, considering he’d had his agenda of getting back at Tim.
Looking at you with his curved features, he questioned your methods, "Then what? I mean, he’s going to be back eventually, and he's going to be pissed."
"By that time, I should be off on my mission." You folded, admitting the rest of your plans to your now willing accomplice.
Toby held his tongue with a light smile. He began to lean back on the disaster of a countertop behind him, not thinking about the potential that it could stain the back of his hoodie.
You watched him lay the rest of his weight back before moving a hand to his temple. Strands of hair that once stuck to his forehead were fluffed as he allowed himself to drop his shoulders.
His nut-brown eyes were dilated and unfocused on anything you had to say.
All things considered, this was a pretty positive response from Toby. He didn’t seem all that tense, and you knew what he was typically like from the months you’d shared a cabin with him.
But, from his current expression, you didn’t have an ounce of worry that you’d get any backlash from him. In fact, he seemed all in on your naive rebellion against Tim.
He chewed on his raw bottom lip absently and said, "Y’know, I tried—to burn down the cabin my first week."
You felt your eyes blink several times before fully processing what he just said. Hearing that, you regretted not going further with your actions. (Poor Tim.)
You raised your eyebrows involuntarily, replying, "If you're still standing, then maybe I have a chance."
He breathlessly chuckled at your words, continuing to gnaw on his healed wounds. A droplet of crimson raced down his chin as he nibbled at it, not noticing the warm liquid trace his scar-filled features.
He stood there, still reclined on the granite, "Yeah- well, Tim dragged me along for any missions he had after that."
Hearing those words, you felt your throat tighten. Now you really couldn’t afford to be caught in the crossfire of this mess. But if what he said was true (and it probably was), You’d only be denying the inevitable of having to be followed by Tim for a good month or two.
But, yet again, maybe he’d have more mercy on you, considering you didn’t burn down the cabin.
*DING*
The dingy, off-white kitchen timer finally rang, breaking the slight silence you two had harbored. You felt yourself flinch at the abrupt buzz, while Toby didn’t seem all that phased by the sudden noise, and if he was, he was able to unconsciously restrict his movement.
You rambled some curse words before swiftly racing over to the 2000s stove. Your hands ran to the knob, cranking it off before grabbing two distinct, picnic-looking gloves from the stovetop you’d conveniently left beforehand. Hastily, you slid your red gingham-patterned mittens on as you yanked the oven door open.
A wave of heat blew against your face, causing a slight burning sensation on your cheeks. The warmth enveloped you, putting a thin layer of sweat on your forehead.
The heat messed with your vision as you aggressively blinked through it.
With the hot breeze, you could smell the pie. The aroma was soft on your nose, as hints of cinnamon and spice danced in the air. The addicting smell was enough to make you take a quick inhale before returning to your original focus.
Through the heated air, the oven’s interior light helped to illuminate the scene. The dim light revealed a perfectly caramelized pumpkin pie that sat in the middle of a metal tray.
Steam radiated from the pie, showing it was still somewhat cooking.
Reaching inside, you grabbed the blazing pan from the inferno. Lifting the tray, you could feel just how heavy the pie was.
The baked good was a hefty, dense pie that completely relied on your steadiness to not collide with the floor. You could feel your frame teetering, inches away from falling face-first into the oven.
You swallowed, trying your hardest not to tip over while still pulling the pastry out.
Finally retrieving the tray a little more than halfway, thoughts started to impulsively soil your mind. What if you went too fast and it tipped over? What if you had bent too far and there was just no safe way to retreat?
At this point, you could feel just how hot the cooking tray was.
You felt how the heat seeped through the fabric mittens and onto your palms.
You needed to speed up before you burned yourself. Pulling the pan up further, you suddenly felt your soles slowly slip due to the pumpkin puree under you.
Dread filled you as you began to slide on the smooth flooring.
You had accepted your fate, and while still trying to lift the burning tray to a safe spot, you started sliding fully. Thinking of a safe way to execute your plan, you paused your movement to not further the slide.
That was until you felt a presence hovering behind you.
You would’ve questioned the person if you didn’t have a steaming pan stuck in both hands. Standing there, almost falling with the tray, two skinny hands quickly covered your own from behind.
Arms surrounded yours, helping you hold onto the pan.
"I’ve got you." Toby stuttered as he stabilized you and the tray.
You were stunned, to say the least. You did need help; you just didn’t expect it to come in this manner. He was close—almost too close for just friends to be. You could hear his rapid heartbeat as his muted, warm breath invaded your neck.
The sensation that this brought was so much warmer than the freshly baked pie that had been cemented to your hands.
Your thoughts felt like they were leaking out of your head like your brain was slipping out of your ear.
Noiselessly, you froze up like an idiot. Thoughts paralyzed you when you smelled the pine on his worn-out hoodie.
Every breath you took sealed your fate. You wanted to speak, but here you were holding your peace. The feeling pulsing through you had to have been what sinking in quicksand felt like.
He had planned on mirroring your movements from behind until you just decided to stand still like a mannequin on display, "Are you going to place it? Or what?"
God, you had been spacing out.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Returning to consciousness, you forced yourself to continue your original plan. Ignoring the figure observing your stillness, you finally pulled the tray out completely.
The weight of the pie, which seemed almost unmanageable seconds ago, was now securely resting in your shared hands.
Carefully holding the fall-themed dessert, you maneuvered the both of you to the gasoline stovetop. The way you two cooperated felt like a team game as you both gently placed the pumpkin pie down.
Once the pan made a satisfying clink sound with the oven, his bony hands swiftly uncovered yours. He pulled his lean, well-formed arms, now fully away from your figure.
As you pulled your oven mittens from your warm palms, you felt his brisk absence.
Exhaling, you distracted yourself with the pie. The once-saffron orange had been reduced to a muted ginger. Near the edges of the circular treat was a deep auburn shade hinting that it’d been cooking using its heat.
Admiring your work, you couldn’t help but think how good it’d taste on a crisp Halloween night.
The toasty atmosphere was still swirling, enveloping the both of you. Inhaling the aroma of the freshly baked pie, you could feel the lingering tension. Your breath stifled, trying to embrace the smell rather than your accusing thoughts.
A mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and a tinge of cloves spread through the cabin like wildfire. Honestly, the pie smelled like a lit candle from a high-end store.
Looking back at Toby, you met his sight, "Thanks."
The words were plain and simple. Relaxing you could feel the heat of the room gradually decline.
"A-huh," he muttered back at you, resigning his gaze to the floor.
You watched him scratch the inside of his mixed hands more destructively than he needed to. The conversation was growing dry as you didn’t say anything in response to his dead tone.
Your sight soon hunted down the almost hollow can. There wasn’t much left. Not nearly enough for each slice to have its own dollop. Would one swirl in the middle be enough, or was it not even worth it at that point?
Indecisiveness flared through you as you decided to use this moment as a spark for conversation, "Cream or no cream?"
"Well, there’s not much left, but if you want to do one dumb dollop, then go ahead." He replied, picking at his fingers like he wasn’t the reason you were lacking whipped cream.
Looking at him this close, you could tell he was chewing the inside of his cheek. He seemed to have ignored what happened last time. Eyes tracing to the other side, you looked at the hollow gape in his mouth. Teeth ran up his jaw like a canine, revealing his darkened gums.
You tapped your fingers on the skinny can like a drum as his eyes flickered to yours. "Y’know, it’s rude to— stare."
You slightly recoiled, turning your gaze elsewhere as he dropped his head slightly to the side. Unannounced to you, a misshapen smile formed on his face. He was fond of the way you responded to his words.
"Sorry." You exhaled, knowing he was playing with you.
In response to your words, he lightheartedly giggled. He had a certain way of letting you know if he was upset with you, and this wasn’t it. But, still, you didn’t want to set him off in any way.
He knew he shouldn’t mess with you like that, but he found it so addicting.
You heard a firm click of the tongue, and unwillingly, you turned back to him. He was tracing his convoluted scars with his index finger; no blood dripped from the healed wounds. At this point, it seemed he wanted your attention.
He wanted you to look at his wilted wounds with loathing repulsion. He needed to hear you critique his looks so he could bury the feeling deep inside of him.
Instead, your sight trailed from his face to his arms and then to his hands.
His sculpted hands were littered with disfigured markings from his past. The valleys of his fingers had been flawed with absent chucks of flesh like he’d gnawed them off a while ago.
But that aged damage wasn’t what you were disturbed by.
It was the inflamed scarlet decorating his chapped palms. The marking seemed tender to the touch, unlike the rehabilitated marks everywhere else. He held his shaky breath in his throat, seeming to realize what you were skeptical of.
"...You touched the pan, didn’t you?" Your words came out loosely; you watched him swallow densely now, not enjoying the words coming from you.
He kept silent with a stiff expression (he got caught red-handed), "Maybe."
Of course, Toby couldn’t feel it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t injured. With the number of reckless incidents he inflicted on himself, you’d think he’d learned by now.
Typically, his only argument was that it gave you all the superhuman ability to heal wounds overnight, and while that was true, it could still get infected in that time frame.
Inhaling, you wished that he hadn’t helped you after all. He didn’t have to, but he did. Of course, you might’ve fallen on your ass if he hadn't, but still, there was a chance you wouldn’t have.
Maybe he was scared that you'd drop the pie you two worked so hard on, or maybe he was driven by a feeling of irrationality that had him doing before thinking.
You came to his side before calmly reaching out for his scorched palms. He withdrew naturally before he realized your intentions. He soon gently rested both of his unstable hands on yours.
Taking both of his trauma-filled hands, you investigated the swollen skin. You absent-mindedly started to run your digits all along the inflamed marks.
Reaching his palms, you could tell he was much warmer than he should’ve been.
In concern, you mildly pulled him by the wrist. Mindfully, you both treaded through the battlefield of a mess to the sink. You turned the faucet, bringing it to a slow, manageable pace.
Quickly, swatting your hand through the water to ensure it was at a safe temperature, you pulled his wrist again, motioning him to cool down the wound. He glared at you before giving in to your concerns. The water splashed the side of the sink in response to his hands suddenly changing the course of the mini waterfall.
He stayed quiet, looking down at you. "You realize I can’t feel it, right?"
"Yeah, but you’re still wounded." You rebutted his obvious observation, holding back the urge to say something witty.
You solemnly watched the liquid deliberately stop the inflammation. It wasn’t like you didn’t know about his medical condition; it was more that you didn’t like him denying his physical well-being. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal to him, but it was to you.
"...Thank you." The words dripped from the grit of his teeth lowly, almost like he didn’t want you to hear them.
You grinned hearing him force his pride away, "You’re welcome."
You looked him in the eyes and kept your smile. It felt right to help him, and it felt even better to hear him praise your efforts.
"We should probably-" He tried to speak until both of you were abruptly cut off by a noise neither of you wanted to hear.
The doorbell.
Heads turned to the front door; it was obvious they were back. Anticipation bubbled viciously in your stomach. How long had you two been messing around?
This wasn’t good. Neither of you was supposed to be here right now. It wasn’t part of the plan. You felt your body stiffen as you swiftly looked at your partner in crime. He seemed to stare at you just the same.
"Fuck."
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Written By: Verdana. (bogusbox)
Beta [Alpha] Reader: Sara. (tobyskitten342)
Mentions: @flufftober & @tobyskitten342
A/N: I won't be participating much this year due to my personal life. Things are pretty messy over here, but I hope the oneshots I do post are okay!
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#flufftober 2023#day 1#creepypasta#ticci toby x reader#ticci toby x y/n#ticci toby x you#ticci toby#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x you#creepypasta oneshot#x reader
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Pretty Baked 1/2
When you decide to move and open up a shop in Charming, California, the local motorcycle club that runs out of Teller-Morrow Automotive practically adopts you and introduces you to their world.
PART ONE | PART TWO
Words: 8K
Author's Note: Sons of Anarchy!AU. No Clay. I'm sorry if you like him, but he intimidates me more often than not lmao. And as much as I love kid fics, I've decided against Abel existing in this imagine. Just go with it.
When you were just fourteen, there was an unfortunate accident which claimed your parents' lives. The life insurance money for both of them was split between you and your brother, but neither of you could touch it until you turned eighteen. Your brother hit eighteen first and immediately left the care of your uncle, spending his money without a care in the world. And no matter how much you and your uncle told him to spend it wisely or invest, he didn't listen.
So when you came into your money, you asked your uncle for help. He helped you invest most of it and then you used a small portion of it to help put you through school. You went to school for a business degree, and when you graduated you used the recipes your uncle's girlfriend showed you to open up a small bakery and coffee shop. You only made and sold a few select items, and the coffee you brewed was plain. Many businesses sold fancy, expensive drinks, but you wanted to keep it original. The elderly locals of the small Texas town you grew up in adored you for keeping the prices affordable and in return they made Pretty Baked one of the best breakfast joints to eat from.
Over the years you slowly expanded on Pretty Baked, bettering your uncle and girlfriend's lives since they had looked after you for years. But then your brother started coming back around, asking for cash here and there when he couldn't make ends meet. And against everyone's wishes and your own better judgment, you gave him the cash.
You quickly grew tired of Texas and your brother's entitled attitude towards the cash you earned for a living, so you started looking for a place elsewhere to set up shop. You don't know what made you look into California, but you did and you looked for a small town that could possibly use a little boost.
Charming, California, in your eyes, was the perfect candidate. And after searching for buildings for sale, you found one that was within a decent price range, as well as a small three bedroom house too. So after leaving your uncle in charge of Pretty Baked's Texas location, you moved to Charming to open up your second location.
More worried about your living situation first, a few friends helped you load up a moving truck that your uncle would drive to California for you while you drove your Ford Explorer. Those same friends also made the drive with you, your two Great Danes, and your uncle, and they helped put together your bed and drop your dog's mattresses in one of the spare bedrooms before wishing you luck and leaving you to your own devices.
Furnishing your house was easy since you didn't care for anything fancy and everything you wanted was fortunately in stock there at the stores. You had new sofas, another queen sized bed for the third room, a kitchen table and chairs, a coffee table and a TV all delivered in one day. It took you a couple of days to get everything put together and on the day you've had your new refrigerator installed, you're surprised to hear your doorbell ring as you're in the middle of making a grocery list.
Your two Great Danes erupt into chaos, rushing the door and barking.
"Knock it off!" You shout. Immediately the dogs stop barking, coming to heel as they walk around you so they can see who the guest is as well. You sigh and then paste on a friendly smile as you swing open the door. The woman standing there is easily in her 40s, rocking a black skin tight long sleeve shirt whose sleeves are sheer, skin tight jeans that are tucked into knee high black heeled boots with a tupperware container in hand. Her brunette hair is curled and waved to perfection, blonde highlights added in here and there. All in all, she's one smokin' cougar. "Hello."
"Hiya, sweetheart," she drawls, amusement lacing her tone. Shit. She definitely caught you ogling her. "Name's Gemma. My son lives a couple houses down from you and I thought I'd welcome 'ya to the neighborhood. I brought you some treats."
You wince as your dogs immediately respond to one of their favorite words, their deep woofs making even you startle. Whirling around, you raise your pointer finger at them. "No!"
"Holy shit," Gemma exclaims.
You mentally laugh, knowing your two Great Danes paint a menacing picture. Both are pitch black with their ears clipped. Both have dark brown leather collars, silver plaques pinned to them with their names and your information on them in case they get lost. "She means treats for me, not you. Behave!" Once your dogs settle, you turn back around. "Sorry about that. I'm YN and the two bodyguards are Grimm and Reaper."
Gemma's eyes immediately sparkle. "You're joking."
"Nope."
She laughs. "I love it."
"Thanks." You stand there for a split second before you remember your manners. "Oh shit. Come in!" You say, gesturing her inside. "Sorry for not offering sooner. And sorry about the mess. I just had my appliances put in today."
"It's not a problem." She walks in as if she owns the place, heels clicking. You smile as you see her pat each of your dogs heads, obviously looking around as she makes her way towards the kitchen. "Wow. Place looks great."
"Been in here before?" You ask as you follow, Grimm and Reaper following behind you as well.
"Yeah. I thought my son would like this place, but he preferred something smaller."
You huff. "I would have to, but my dogs are my babies. I needed room for them."
"Oh yeah?" Gemma places the Tupperware container on your table, taking a seat. She looks you up and down before you take your own seat, smirking at you. "So where does Charming's newest resident hail from?"
You arch an eyebrow at her. This was probably the town's biggest gossip, but you didn't have anything to hide. "From an equally small town down in Texas."
"Reason for the move?"
"I'm opening up a second location for my bakery."
"Really?" She drawls. "Tell me more."
You chuckle at her. "You want my whole life story, don't you?"
"Well, aren't you a smart girl?"
"Fair enough. I'd wanna know all about the newbie too." You sigh, reaching for her Tupperware of treats and popping open the lid. Chocolate chip cookies are inside, and you readily bite into one, groaning in delight. "These are good." You shove the rest of the cookie into your mouth and then wipe the crumbs off on the bottom of your shirt. "So, uh, my parents died when I was young. My uncle and girlfriend raised me and my brother, but my brother split as soon as he was of age and came into possession of his share of our parents life insurance money."
Gemma scoffs. "Typical."
"Yep. Anyway, when I came into my portion of the money, I invested most of it and put myself through college. Afterwards, I opened up Pretty Baked. My uncle's girlfriend had some fruit kolache recipes that she taught me so we excelled at that. Then over time, I added in sausage kolaches, other various doughnuts and simple coffees since nowadays all everyone sells is the expensive shit."
"Good for you." She genuinely seems impressed. "So your business did well then?"
"It did. So well, in fact, that I was able to better my uncle and his girlfriend's lives as a thank you for stepping in when my parents died. But then I wanted a change in scenery, so I looked elsewhere to set up shop and Charming met the criteria I was looking for- small, but loyal."
"And you plan to keep this shop exactly like your Texas location?"
"Oh yeah. I'm gonna have to keep my menu very small right now until I can hire staff that knows what they're doing, but eventually- if business does well here- I hope to expand the menu to everything I sell down in Texas."
"Well I, for one, can't wait to try what you have to offer."
"Thanks. It's gonna be a while since I still have to order all the appliances for the shop, but I can make you a tester's tray to try a bit of everything."
"Yes. I love that idea." Gemma's phone vibrates from within her pocket and without even looking at it, she says, "That's my cue. I should get going."
"Oh. Okay." You stand up at the same time she does, tutting at Grimm and Reaper when they move to follow. "Thanks for stopping by."
"It was my pleasure, baby girl." She reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a business card and handing it to you. "My family and I own Teller-Morrow Automotive here in Charming. If you need anything or want to drop off some snacks, call the office. I'm the one who files all the paperwork and handles the phone."
"Yeah. I will." You smile at her, opening your front door and stepping aside so she can walk out. "It was nice meeting you, Gemma."
She smirks over her shoulder. "You too, baby. And if you do stop by the shop, bring those precious dogs of yours. I have a feeling my boys would love them."
The following day you finally get to go grocery shopping after having let the new refrigerator cool off overnight to make sure it was working properly. It was, so now you're anxious to stock it and your cabinets.
You manage to get everything you want, plus some snacks you're sure you don't need but desperately want, and load it all up into the backseat of your vehicle. Then after locking the doors, you take your basket back inside to go buy the dog food next.
An employee helps you get two large bags loaded into your basket when he sees you struggling, but unfortunately gets called away before he could help you out to the parking lot. Groaning, you head out by yourself and walk over to your Ford Explorer. Pressing the button for the hatchback to open, you wait until it's fully up before trying your luck with the too heavy bags.
You've only managed to get the first bag halfway out of the basket and on the edge of your trunk space when the basket starts to roll back, and you curse as you try to stop it with your foot. Stuck in an awkward position, you curse again. "Fuck my life."
There's a snort behind you. "Need some help there, darlin'?"
The voice is quite pleasant so you don't bother rejecting the offer. "Yes, please. Fuckin' dog food weighs a ton and I'm just one tiny person!" A man walks around to be in front of you, easily taking the bag of dog food from you and loading it. As he works, you quickly check him out- dirty blonde hair slightly slicked back, blonde facial hair and what appears to be some sort of motorcycle club vest over a plain white tee. As he loads the second one, you smile at him. "Thanks."
"No problem." He smiles and you do your best not to swoon. "I'm Jax. You new around here?"
"YN. And yeah. Just got in a few days ago."
He nods and then gestures to the dog food. "You gonna be good getting that off at your house?"
"Probably not." You chuckle. "I'll just back up to my garage and pull them out. I'll slide them into a corner or something."
Jax chuckles. "You sure? I don't mind lending a helping hand. We, here in Charming, look out for our own."
"Being in a new place and all, I should say no, but I'm from Texas where we help out anyone and everyone," you say. Shrugging, you then tell him, "Fuck it. If you're offering, I'll definitely accept the help."
"Well alright then. What's the address? I'll follow you on my bike." You rattle off your address to him and are surprised when his eyebrows raise to his hairline. "No shit? I live on that street too. In fact, I think I'm only a few houses down."
Something in your mind clicks and you give him a quick lookover once more. "You related to that hot, yet very intimidating woman that goes by Gemma?"
Jax barks out a laugh. "That's my ma. She introduced herself to you already?"
"Yep." You grin. "Brought me cookies to butter me up for my whole life story. I caved." Your blonde companion snorts and you shrug. "I couldn't help myself. She's really hot."
"Should I worry about you chasing after my ma?"
You shake your head and shut the hatchback. "Nah. I only appreciate good looking women. I don't sleep with them."
"Good to know." Jax's blue eyes sparkle and you curse your luck. Figures mother and son would be smokin' hot. "So should we get going?"
"Yeah! I have groceries in the backseat that I need to get home too."
"Well alright then. Lead the way."
After putting the basket away, you jog back to your vehicle and buckle in behind the steering wheel. The drive to your house is pretty short and you park in your driveway while Jax parks in the street. You open the hatchback and then walk around to open the back passenger door, grabbing as many bags as you can.
Jax manages to get one bag of dog food lifted up onto his shoulder and he readily follows you to the front door.
"Guard your nuts," you muse.
"What?" You smirk at his expression, throwing open the door and immediately step aside. The deep, menacing woofs don't startle you this time and you laugh at Jax when his jaw drops upon seeing your dogs rushing him. One arm holds tight to the bag of dog food and his free hand immediately covers his junk when Grimm noses his crotch. "What the fuck."
"You're new and you have their food. They're easily excitable."
"They're intimidating as hell, but not very good guard dogs."
"Wanna bet?" You grin and then look at your dogs. "Boys, sit!" Immediately, the Great Danes back off of Jax and sit, staring at you. You then point to the front door. "Guard." Your dogs get up and sit by the door, ears sticking straight up and not moving a muscle. You look back at Jax. "Walk towards the door."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Jax takes a moment to consider it before he takes three steps towards the door and both your dogs stand, growling menacingly at him. "Alright. I get it. They're good guard dogs."
"Damn right they are." You then look at your dogs again, softening your voice. "Alright, boys, go play." Their tails immediately start wagging and then they're off, rushing off into the house.
"Those are some smart dogs you have," Jax says, following you into the kitchen.
You place your groceries on the counter and then open the pantry door. "Put the dog food in there," you say. "And yeah. Grimm and Reaper are the best."
"What did you just say? What are their names?"
"Grimm and Reaper." Jax laughs. "Why is that funny? Even Gemma found amusement in their names." He turns around and it's then you take notice of the grim reaper on the back of his vest. "Oh. Is it like the mascot of your club or something?"
"Everyone around here and other MC's associate the reaper with the Sons of Anarchy." You nod, understanding their amusement now. "It looks like Fate brought you here."
You snort, pushing off the counter and heading for your door once again. "If you say so." Your cell suddenly rings and you pull it out of your pocket, frowning at the name that flashes across it. You silence the call and then shove it back down into your pocket.
"Boyfriend?" Jax guesses, watching you carefully.
"Nah. Brother." You shrug. "I'll call him back later."
Jax doesn't say anything else as he follows you outside, grabbing the other bag of dog food while you grab up even more groceries. Once everything is inside, you turn towards Jax who is crouched and scratching the necks of your dogs.
"So thanks for everything," you tell him. "Those bags of dog food would have been an issue for me."
"Anytime, darlin'." He stands, flashing that annoyingly pretty smile of his. "So I guess I'll see you around then?"
"Of course." You escort him to the front door so you can see him off. "After all, Charming is pretty small."
Over the next week, you spend a majority of your time cleaning up the shop that is set to become Pretty Baked's second location. Gemma had stopped by to check out the building and offer any help should you need or want any, but the work kept your mind and hands busy so you were perfectly content doing all the work by yourself. Then before she had left, the two of you traded cell phone numbers and you promised to call her soon to let her know you were heading over with breakfast goods.
You call in the orders for all the kitchen equipment you're gonna need, as well as tables and chairs and any artwork you can hang on the walls. The tables, chairs and artwork are going to come in within a week, but the kitchen equipment is set to be delivered within three weeks.
So in the meantime, you make good on that promise to Gemma one morning. And after making sure she's going to be in the office at Teller-Morrow Automotive by at least seven in the morning, you wake up at five in the morning to start baking.
You only have the stuff, and the time, for cheese sausage kolaches, as well as apple and raspberry kolaches. You have a bag of the special blend coffee beans that's really popular back in Texas, so you make a pot for Gemma to try and to get her opinion on it. You're not sure how many people work at the auto shop, so you figure ten each of the sausage, apple and raspberry kolaches should be good enough. Then after pouring the entire coffee pot into an enormous thermos jug, you grab a stack of styrofoam cups and whistle for your dogs.
Grimm and Reaper get put up in the backseat and the trunk space of your vehicle, and you load up the goods in the front seat with you. It's seven forty-five by the time you're pulling out of your driveway and find yourself on the way to Teller-Morrow Automotive.
When you pull up to the auto shop, Gemma waves you down and directs you to a parking space. You're not surprised to see various motorcycles parked alongside the side of the building or the few bikers groggily walking around.
"Well don't you look all bushy-tailed and bright-eyed," Gemma muses as you hope out of your vehicle.
"I've been up since five," you say. "And have had about five cups of coffee."
She huffs in amusement. "Did you bring your babies?"
"Of course." You open up the back door. "Let's go, Reaper." The Great Dane hops down, circling Gemma before sniffing her hand and taking a seat next to her. She smiles, scratching between his ears. "Grimm, you're next buddy," you say as you open up the hatchback. Grimm joins his brother and you slam the door shut, walking over to your passenger seat to bring out the goodies.
"So what'd you bring us?" Gemma asks.
"Cheese sausage kolaches, as well as apple and raspberry," you tell her. "Also brought some coffee for you to try."
"Excellent. Let's sit down at the picnic tables. I'm sure some of the guys will find us there."
"Okay. Are my boys good to explore?"
"Sure thing." As you and Gemma settle down at one of the tables, you set everything out. She sits, eying the goods as you take off the lids. "So what do you recommend?"
"Personally I love the sausage kolaches," you tell her. "It's good, especially if you're in a rush."
"Alright. I'll try one of those." Gemma grabs one, arching an eyebrow at the size of the sausage wrapped in a puffy breading. You shrug and she takes a bite, and you nervously watch as she chews and chews before swallowing.
"Well?"
She grins and takes another bite. "Not what I was expecting, but it's good. Especially considering it's breakfast food."
You exhale with relief and then fill one of the cups with some coffee. "Try this. It's one of the blends I brew and sell. I don't have sugar or milk, so you'll have to drink it black."
Her nose wrinkles, but she accepts it anyway. "I don't like my coffee black, but I guess I can try it since you took the time to brew it."
Gemma takes a drink and you smirk when you see her eyes widen. "Good, right?"
"Oh, honey, please tell me you have more of this stuff stocked somewhere in your house?" Gemma takes another drink, savoring it. "I don't think I can wait until your grand opening."
You chuckle. "Don't worry. This is my favorite. I have lots at my house."
"Whoa! Whose fuckin' horses?!" You turn around and watch a curly-haired individual, guarding his crotch and pushing the faces of your dogs away from him.
"Tig!" Gemma shouts. "Come here." The individual in question looks over, running a hand over his face as if he'd just woken up before heading in your direction. One of your dogs shoves his nose into Tig's stomach and he winces, attempting to shove him away.
You and Gemma chuckle, but you end up whistling sharply to get your dogs' attention. They perk up, awaiting a command, and you snap your fingers before pointing at the asphalt next to the picnic table. "Lay down." They trot over to do as they're told and then when Tig drops into the spot next to Gemma, you smile apologetically. "Sorry about that. Grimm and Reaper love greeting new people."
Tig sits a little straighter. "Did you just call them Grimm and Reaper?"
"I did."
Tig slowly smirks and Gemma introduces the two of you. "Tig, meet YN and her children. They just moved to Charming. YN, this is Tig."
You nod at him. "Hello."
He nods back and, before Gemma can tell him to try anything, he grabs one of the apple kolaches and shoves it in his mouth. He groans and you grin, and he grabs another before pouring himself some coffee. "Gem, where did you get this stuff?"
Gemma smugly grins at you. "Our newest resident and friend here makes them. She's opening up a shop pretty soon."
Tig groans some more, grabbing a sausage kolache this time and eating half of it in one bite. "Sweetheart, if you truly made these I'll be your first customer."
"I did and I'll hold you to it." You slowly grin at him.
"Do you know when the grand opening will be?" Gemma asks.
"Yeah, it's-" Your phone suddenly rings and you cringe, apologizing to them while quickly pulling it out. Seeing your brother's name, you silence it and set it down on the table top. "So, uh, the grand opening will be probably in about two months or so. My usual hours are from five thirty in the morning until two in the afternoon, but for the first day I'll probably open at noon until five so no one has to worry about waking up super early for something they've never tried before."
"That's smart," Gemma says.
The roar of motorcycles catches your attention and Gemma waves them off. "It's just Jax and a few others. They had a run a couple of days ago, so they're just returning."
You nod as if you understand what a run for them means, watching as the four men disembark their bikes. The tall man with a full beard and a beanie adorning his head is the one who nudges Jax and gestures in your direction, and you smile when you see recognition dawn on the blonde dreamboat. Grimm and Reaper notice him then, whining and twitching as if they're about to disobey your earlier command.
Rolling your eyes at your dogs, you grin and glance back up at Jax. "Guard your nuts!" You shout, laughing when Jax seems to brace himself and then cover himself. The other three men with him look curiously at you and the second you utter, "Go!", they freeze when the two Great Danes leap up and bound towards them.
"Holy shit!" The brown-skinned man with a mohawk exclaims. "These dogs are huge!"
Grimm and Reaper happily greet Jax before trying their luck with the other three, and you snort when two of them get noses to the crotch.
"You met my boy?" Gemma asks.
You glance back at her, nodding. "At the supermarket. I was having trouble with the bags of dog food. Jax offered a hand." She looks pleased about that tidbit of information, but before either of you can say anything, the men are joining you.
"Hey, YN. What are you doing here?" Jax takes a seat next to you, straddling the bench to your left while the bearded biker takes a seat on your right. Both men each have a dog interested in them.
"I brought some stuff over for your mom to try. She and Tig are fans."
He smiles. "Oh yeah? What'd you bring?"
Someone groans and you look over at the mohawked man who's clutching a styrofoam cup in his hands. "Goddamn that's some good coffee."
The other two men you don't know take that as their cue to reach for something to eat and drink, and Jax shakes his head at them. He makes introductions for you, gesturing to Happy, Juice and then Opie who's sitting on your other side. You smile at each of them and then at Jax when he grabs something to eat. Each of them are surprised and practically eat everything you've brought, and it's Juice who asks where you got the coffee from.
"I, uh, I have it flown in for my shop," you tell him. "Pretty Baked is still a couple months away from opening, but I got a few bags of the coffee at my house. I'll bring a bag so you guys can have some here."
"Pretty Baked?" Opie asks, lips twitching.
"My bakery," you tell him, chuckling bashfully. "I might have been a little stoned while brainstorming name ideas. My uncle thought it was hilarious and now I'm opening a second location here in Charming."
Your phone vibrates on the tabletop and once you see the name, you silence the vibrations. "You can get that," Gemma says. "That's the second call you've ignored."
"It's fine." You shake your head, grinning. "Just the brother." Out of the corner of your eye, you see Grimm set his big head on the table, staring at Happy who's shoving a pastry into his mouth. "Grimm! Head off the table." Grimm whines, but does as he's told. Only to plop his head on Happy's knee. "I swear they're better mannered. I just have a feeling that Happy fed him and now he's kissing his ass."
The table chuckles. Your phone vibrates again and you swipe it off the table, silencing it and shoving it into your pocket.
"Alright. Spill," Gemma says.
"Spill what?"
"You know exactly what. Why are you dodging your brother's call? You runnin' or something?"
"Not really." Your vague answer doesn't sit well with anyone and you sigh when you realize the whole table is expecting more. Glancing at Gemma, you ask, "So remember how I told you my brother split with his half of the life insurance money?"
"Yeah."
"Well when his half ran out, he came crawling back when he realized my little shop was bringing in some cash. He asked for money to make ends meet and I coughed it up."
Opie huffs. "Big mistake."
"Yeah, well he was my brother," you say in defense of your actions. "Everyone warned me not to, but I didn't listen. And then soon enough the cash I gave him went from paying his bills to paying for his drunken benders and hookups." You reach for one of the last remaining pastries and take a bite out of it. "Anyway, I finally put my foot down and stopped giving away my money. He had the audacity to call it family money as if he worked his ass for it and eventually I got tired of his pestering. My uncle gave his full support of me leaving Texas and here I am. The phone calls are probably just my idiot brother only now realizing that his personal ATM is no longer within a five minute drive."
"I'm sorry, baby," Gemma says. "That's no way to treat family."
"Yeah."
"You worried he'll come looking?" Jax wonders, gaze concerned.
You glance at him, shaking your head. "Nah. And if he does, I'll just have to deal with his nagging. I'm good."
You sit around a little while longer before the guys have to go. Jax squeezes your shoulder before he takes his leave, everyone else welcoming you to Charming before filling up their cups one last time, petting Grimm and Reaper, and then heading into the building connected to the garage.
"They like you," Gemma muses once it's just you and her again.
"They were probably just exhausted after whatever run they got back from and were grateful for the fuel."
"If that's what you want to think."
Your phone vibrates in your pocket again and you sigh. "I should get going and finally deal with my brother," you say. "We should do this again."
"We will. Keep me updated on your shop as well. If you need any help, you have my number."
Over the next couple of months, Gemma stays true to her word and helps you out around the shop. Even the Sons of Anarchy show up, doing some heavy lifting when your kitchen appliances finally arrive. Then after the shop was put together, you knew you couldn't do everything on your own. So after putting flyers out around town, you took a chance on hiring two newly graduated teenagers just looking for some easy money during their gap year- two teenagers who didn't cower at the sight of the Sons, but still talked to them with the respect that they showed everyone else.
The day of Pretty Baked's grand opening in California, you drop off Grimm and Reaper at the auto shop where the club's prospect Half-Sack happily takes over care for them for the day. Chibs, Bobby, Juice and Happy wish you luck, and Gemma rides with you to the shop to get ready. Emma and Todd, your teenage help, are already sweeping and wiping down the tables and counters when you get in.
At five minutes 'til opening, you glance out the front windows and are surprised to see a small crowd gathering.
"Chin up, sweetheart, and smile pretty," Gemma says as she slides an arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the door. "The local paper is here too. They want to do an article on Pretty Baked."
"Oh my god," you quietly groan.
Emma and Todd laugh, the two of them following behind you. Gemma squeezes your shoulder before stepping off to the side, and your two employees stand on either side of you. The small crowd quiets down, the only sound being the click and flash of a camera as you decide to address them.
You give a small speech, thanking them for coming out and giving your little shop a chance. The local paper's photographer asks for a picture of you and your employees posed in front, and then you're opening the door and welcoming everyone inside.
You have three different flavored sausage kolaches and four different fruit kolache flavors for sale, as well as three different blends of coffee. And while you dealt with the food sales, Emma and Todd handled the coffees since you taught them how to brew them properly. You weren't surprised that the sausage kolaches did well, but you were surprised with the fruit sales. Apparently the strawberry and cream cheese was a big hit, as was the coffee that some of your elderly visitors loved because of the low prices.
At around three, you find yourself in the kitchen making another batch of fruit kolaches. Pretty Baked was doing well and you were excited, as were the teenagers manning the front for you with Gemma keeping a watchful eye over everyone coming and going.
Just as you placed three trays into the oven, there's a knock on the back door. You frown, heading towards it a bit warily, but the grinning face just outside the small tempered glass window makes you sigh and roll your eyes.
You push open the door, shaking your head. "You do know the front door works perfectly well, don't you?"
Jax steps in, shutting the door behind him and following you into the kitchen. "Yeah, but then I'd have to stay out there like a normal customer and not be able to keep you company back here."
"Aw. Such a charmer, Mr. Teller," you muse in your best southern accent. "I'm the one from the South. Aren't I supposed to be the one charming your pants off?"
"You tryin' to get me out of my pants, darlin'?" His eyes sparkle and you throw a dish towel at him when his words make you blush. He laughs.
"You're cute," you admit, shaking your head in amusement and sliding over a tray of done pastries for him to snack from. "But I know a losing battle when I see one."
"Losing battle?" His eyebrow arches, but his gaze is set on the pastries before he chooses an apple kolache.
"Mhm. From the couple of parties I've been invited to, courtesy of Gemma, those women- what do you call them, sweetbutts?- have all laid claim to the president." He scoffs, filling his mouth with food. "And let's not forget the ex who's been circling, pissing off your mom every other day."
Jax frowns as his eyes snap to you. "Tara? She botherin' you?"
"She's not bothering me," you tell him, chuckling softly. "I've just seen her around a couple of times out and about in Charming. She seems perfectly capable of checking her vehicle all on her own, but the second a kutte is within sight distance, she acts like an oblivious female who has no idea how to change a tire." You shrug. "Your mom saw it on one of our shopping excursions and called her out. There was a whole yelling match about old heartbreak and manipulative cunts."
"Jesus." Jax groans quietly. Then quickly collecting himself, he apologizes. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with their bullshit."
"Don't worry about it. I might not enjoy being dragged into drama, but I do love to watch it unfold. And your mother," you trail off, laughing. "She's the biggest shit stirrer I've ever met. I love it."
"You and my ma are going to be trouble, aren't 'ya?"
"Who, me?" You set your elbows on the metal tabletop, clasping your hands together and then setting your chin atop your clasped hands. Batting your eyelashes, you say, "But I'm just a lil' 'ol bakery owner from Texas. I don't got a mean bone in my body."
Jax snorts. "Bull. I heard how you southern women politely insult others by blessing their hearts or some shit."
You laugh and push off the table, heading to the sink to wash some dishes. "I'm still not getting into a catfight over you, Jackson. My fighting days are over."
"Yeah? We'll see about that."
His words make you freeze, and when you glance over your shoulder his smirk is enough to get your heart pounding.
Stupid Jax Teller and his pretty smile.
Over the next few months, Pretty Baked did excellent for being in such a small town such as Charming. In fact, it did so well that you were able to expand the shop's menu pretty early on, adding breakfast sandwiches, doughnuts, and bagels to it. People only had good things to say about your shop and work ethic that no one really said a word about you associating with the Sons of Anarchy. At least not to your face they didn't.
Surprisingly, Gemma became a constant fixture in your life. You got to know the Sons of Anarchy, most of whom you came to adore, and their clubhouse became a second home for Grimm and Reaper when you needed a dog sitter or one of the men wanted to hang out with your two beasts. You knew there was more to their motorcycle enthusiasts' schtick, but you never cared to figure out exactly what it was that they truly did. You got to hang out in their clubhouse, much to the sweetbutts' displeasure, and confuse the hell out of everyone when you and Jax would flirt but never take it any further than that.
Soon all anyone can talk about is the Taste of Charming, but you opt out of putting up your own booth since you wanted to enjoy the festivities before participating the following year. The various businesses around the small-town set up booths, either selling food or handmade goods to raise funds for their shops and/or the local schools. It was very family orientated, so you spoke to the Chamber of Commerce who was putting on the small festival to make sure it was okay to have your Great Danes with you. And after making sure they were well behaved and would be on leashes, they granted you your request.
After stuffing a backpack full of necessities for your dogs to look after them and pick up after them, you dress comfortably in a tank top and shorts, and drive out towards the center of town. And when you find parking, you clip on Grimm and Reaper's leashes, and take off exploring. Many people ooh and aww over your dogs, and you're very grateful that they're well behaved as strangers pet and ask to take pictures with them.
After you've explored and spent some cash at various booths, you find your way to the Teller-Morrow Automotive booth where Gemma is serving up bowls of chili.
"So this is the infamous chili I've been hearing about, huh?" You muse. You transfer both leashes into one hand, reaching over to grab a tortilla chip from Juice's plate to dip into his own bowl of chili. He squawks and you grin, tasting the chili for yourself. "Oh. That's good."
"Told you." You glance over at Gemma as she smirks. "Now do you wanna get your ass behind this booth and help out?"
"What do I do with Grimm and Reaper?"
"Hand them over, gorgeous. Uncle Tig wants some quality time with his nephews."
Laughing, you shake your head as the eccentric biker takes the leashes from your hand, proudly marching off with your dogs and Juice in tow. Then turning back to Gemma, you say, "Let me just wash up and then I'm all yours."
Since half the booths set up are selling food, there's been a portable washing station set up. You walk up to it, washing and sanitizing, and then putting on gloves so you can handle the food.
Gemma ends up taking a backseat to her own booth, filling up the bowls while you deal with the people. And with you at the front of the booth, it's a bit of a shock that more people stop by.
"Typical," Gemma scoffs when there's a lull in the crowd. "I serve the food and we just get our regulars who have no issues with the club. You serve and everyone suddenly flocks to the booth."
You grin at the moody woman. "At least the club is pulling in some cash. Maybe this time you can actually beat the Fire Department."
Gemma glances at the booth in question, sneering at the firefighters who are grilling it up next to the police department's booth. "Yeah. Maybe."
You chuckle and then get back to work when a couple more individuals walk up to try the chili.
"What are you doing working the booth?" You glance up at the question, smiling at Jax standing there in his kutte, white tee and jeans. "I thought you wanted to explore."
"I did and then I decided to try your mom's chili. She roped me in."
"She's good at getting people to do her bidding."
You shrug. "It's fine. Tig and Juice took the dogs off my hands, and I was happy to help." Jax steps aside as a customer walks up, watching you smile and talk to the customer as politely as possible. "Where's everyone else?" You ask once the customer has walked off with their food.
Jax leans against the booth, accepting a bowl of chili from Gemma before dropping a bill into the tips container. "Around. Bobby volunteered at the dunking booth to raise money for the school, so Chibs and Happy are spending their cash trying to dunk him." You laugh. "And Opie's around here somewhere with his wife and kids."
"And then there's lil' 'ol you walking around all on your lonesome," you tease.
"I wouldn't be alone if someone would abandon their duties to a certain booth and walk around with me."
"And leave Gem all on her lonesome?" You gasp. "Never."
"Jax, leave YN alone," Gemma says. "She's the only reason all these new people are approaching the booth. Go bother someone else."
He rolls his eyes, grinning all the while. "Whatever you say, ma." Then looking at you, he winks. "I'll come back for you later. Don't leave."
"Yeah, yeah." And before Jax can leave, you say, "Hey, can you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"In my backpack, there are some collapsible bowls for Grimm and Reaper. Can you take them to Tig so he can give them water? I'm sure he's fed them anything he can get his hands on around here."
Jax chuckles. "Sure thing, darlin'."
After a couple more hours, the crowds start to thin when the sun dips in the sky and Gemma decides to call it a day. She has Half-Sack and Juice clean out the pots and utensils, and then has them dismantle the booth to stash away in the van while they continue to make their presence known around the festivities. Gemma sticks around Bobby as he counts the money the booth made, so Jax pulls you away to have a bit more fun. He tucks you under his arm so your arm closest to him slides around the back of his waist, and then the two of you are off browsing booths that are still standing.
There's a booth dedicated to the Elementary School that's selling friendship bracelets and other beaded bracelets that have different charms on them. The black beaded bracelets catch your attention, and you carefully peer at what charms the bracelets hold.
"Oh hey," you say when one bracelet catches your attention. "Look at the little skulls." You reach for the bracelet in question, stepping away from Jax so you can look for more. Every small bead on the bracelet is black, with the exception of a single white skull charm sitting in the middle. "I'm taking it."
Jax grins. "You a fan of skulls?"
"I'm a fan of lots of things," you tell him. There's another black beaded bracelet, but the single charm on this one is an iridescent lotus flower charm. You gasp in delight, excited when you find a second lotus flower bracelet so you can gift to Emma. Then grabbing a blue threaded friendship bracelet for Todd, you hand over the four bracelets to the booth attendant so you can purchase them.
"Seven dollars," the woman kindly tells you as she places the bracelets in a small paper bag.
And before you can reach into your pocket for the bit of cash you were carrying around, Jax hands over a ten dollar bill while grabbing your bracelets in return. "Keep the change, sweetheart."
The woman blushes as she stutters out a thank you, and then Jax is steering you away as he hands you the paper bag. You gently shove your elbow into his side, shaking your head at him. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you."
"Of course." He smirks down at you before once again you find yourself under his arm.
You walk around a bit more, buying candy apples for both yourself and Jax, and then Jax buying you a flower crown that has cascading multicolor ribbons that would go down your back from the florist booth. You spot Tig when you're walking around, happily chilling with your dogs still so you leave him be. And then when you make your way back to Gemma, she's looking far too smug while staring at the glowering members of the fire department.
"What's going on?" Jax asks.
Bobby looks up, chuckling. "Guess which booth just put an end to the fire department's reign of smugness?"
Jax laughs. "No way. We finally made more money than them?"
"Sure did," Gemma muses. "And we got our favorite little baker to thank for that."
You blush when she smirks at you, but before anything else can be said, someone's talking into a microphone atop a stage in the middle of all the festivities.
"Attention Charming residents," a man says, "this year, we decided to add a little more fun competition to the schedule and give out a little extra cash to the businesses who keep our little town on the map." Many people whoop and cheer. "It's a game of karaoke. Each booth vendor can send up one person to play for them and the winner will take home an extra five hundred dollars!"
As the people cheer, your jaw drops. "Holy shit."
"You can say that again," Bobby says.
"The karaoke game is a Finish the Lyrics game. We're going to play ten songs- songs that can be from any year or may be entirely from this year, no one knows except the one in control of the music- and the first to buzz in and sing at least ten seconds of the song gets a point towards whichever shop they're playing for."
"Fuck," Jax swears. "Who do we have that knows at least every genre of music?"
"There's Juice," Bobby grumbles. "He's into all this new age shit."
"Nah. He's into all that alternative shit. I doubt they'll play enough of it for him to pull out a win."
You chew on your bottom lip, not saying a word as you glance at the stage. Emma, the teenager who works for you at Pretty Baked, is standing behind a laptop and tapping keys here and there. When she glances up, she meets your gaze and smirks. She winks and then gestures to the microphone stands being set up on stage, conveying she thinks that you should play. You sigh and then glance back at Gemma and Jax who are still conversing about the extra cash when some of the boys from the fire department and police department pass by, knocking their shoulder into Bobby.
"Better luck next time, biker trash." Someone from the fire department sneers.
"Looks like we're gonna surpass your shitty little auto club again with this win," another one says.
Jax lunges for the fireman, but suddenly Happy and Chibs appear out of nowhere, catching him. The men from the fire department and police department laugh, heading for the stage.
"Are these the only participants joining us up here?" The man in charge of the game says. There's only three contestants standing around- one from the PD, one from the FD, and a teen girl from the florists booth.
You catch Emma's eye again and she gestures to the contestants, widening her eyes to urge you to play. You close your eyes, raising a hand as you shout, "I'm in!"
To be continued..
#jax teller x reader#jax teller imagine#sons of anarchy imagine#soa imagine#sons of anarchy#soa#jax teller#gemma teller morrow
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Went down an essential rabbit hole last night about the different styles of alternative that Oda has tossed in with some of the crews. & I know this isn't everyone- I'm only in Marineford, okay.
But.
Alternative Characters in One Piece: Kid Pirates + Heart Pirates
Of course the biggest one that comes to mind are the Kid Pirates in general.
Kidd gives me 80s punk vibes. Anarchy, the hair, the fit, the attitude- purely 80s Punk. But to contrast him- Killer is 80s Glam Rock. The hair? The tight t-shirt? The lipstick? Everything about him is 80s Glam Rock. Heat & Wire both fit the 80s Goth scene, though Wire veers closer to Mall Goth due to the fishnets + platform boots + tiny shorts + big ass coat.
The Heart Pirates aren't necessarily all Alt, but. Look at their Captain. Trafalgar Law screams, specifically, Loser by Beck, but also Pepper by Butthole Surfers. He's Skater Punk ( thank you to my wonderful partner for this one ). Shachi screams Weezer. Island in the Sun? Say It Ain't So? Beverly Hills? Pure Shachi. While Penguin is more early 00s- Three Days Grace, EARLY MCR specifically ( IBYMB & Three Cheers, specifically ), EARLY FOB ( everything from '03-'08 ). Ikkaku is a Flyleaf girlie. They're all Skater Punk in varying levels.
I'll probably add more to this later on but feel free to add on any of your favs + which subculture they fit in with this.
#one piece#kid pirates#kidd pirates#heart pirates#eustass kidd#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#shachi one piece#penguin one piece#ikkaku one piece#massacre soldier killer#killer one piece#heat one piece#wire one piece
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laokyk /lˈe͡ɪəkˌe͡ɪk/ : (to be) insane
Negative Descriptor. Present tense. Formal.
📖 Definition & Synonyms
→ Definition: The state of mind achieved when signing up with GIL.
→ Synonyms: crazy, nutty, deranged
🗨️ Example Usage
→ Romanised: 'Eihe wishoRoji nirare loka Ce-Rikijaizo.' 'Eon'laokyk.'
→ English: 'I have much better hair than the Doctor.' 'You're insane.'
→ Audio:
→ Sollifreyan Font (v1):
🧩 Modifiers
→ Comparative: shoLaokyk (more insane)
→ Superlative: choLaokyk (most insane)
→ Procedural: laokaret (insanely)
🔍 Advanced
Etymology and Morphological Breakdown
Lag- (Root): Derived from "lag," signifying "anarchy."
-oke (Stem): Originating from "oke," which means "reality."
-yk (Suffix): A common suffix used for descriptors with a negative connotation.
Concept and Context
Conceptualisation of 'Laokyk': Combining "lag" (anarchy) with "oke" (reality), "laokyk" implies insanity as a chaotic or disordered perception of reality.
Cultural Significance: The term reflects broader Gallifreyan attitudes towards mental health, social order, and the value placed on rationality and conformity.
Negative Descriptor Classification: The classification points to the undesirability of the state it describes, indicating a deviation from typical Gallifreyan norms.
(GIL Gallifreyan Conlang Guide (coming soon))
Gallifreyan Word for Wednesday by GIL
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#doctor who#dr who#time lords#gallifreyan language#conlang#GIL#gallifrey institute for learning#whoniverse#GIL words#TOTW: Everything's normal here
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What happens with Robyn after that ??
Girl how could you 😭😭😭
"You won't be able to hold up that attitude for very long, Robyn. Sooner or later that feisty and rebellious spirit of yours will break and you will make up for your father's mistakes and join this cause."
"Over my dead body." (spits in Philip's face)
"Hm." (wipes the spit away) "Familiar words from a familiar face. I'm only afraid you have no choice. It's only a matter of time, dear nephew."
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I would draw it but AGH I don't have the time
That's what happens. Robyn's spirit does eventually break after a long time of as much anarchy as he could manage until he doesn't have the energy to fight it anymore and he agrees to join Philip.
Nobody knows where Robyn or his mother are - they vanished. It takes an especially huge toll on the Bowers and Ahana. Micah most of all. They search up and down the Isles but to no avail. After years of searching Micah can't handle it anymore. Everything in Bonesborough reminds him of Robyn and it's too painful to bare. He moves away. Back to his birth town.
One night, years after the Clawthornes' diappearance, Breena is awakened by loud knocks at the front door. It's not even knocks anymore. Someone is banging their fists against the front door. She goes to open the door.
"BREENA! THEY'RE AFTER ME! LET ME IN, PLEASE! "
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Is it me or is the Team Sonic w/ Shadow from Sonic Boom the literal embodiment of a usual friend group?
I mean, guys... think about it-
Sonic is the leader and the one who tries to be a cool kind of guy. Maybe a flirt and probably the heartthrob but keeps failing in trying to let the ladies fall for him. He's also like the tired dad/big brother of the group as you can see from his daily life. Also, ADHD? Hell yeah
Amy is definitely the mom of the group. Always keeps everyone in check, does the cooking and cleaning and the therapist. You and your friends probably call them "Mom" as a joke but then it's now stuck to you as you see yourself as a mom to them now- If being called "Mommy"? They love-hate it if single and think their life is a joke.
Tails, the boy genius. The one who does all the assignments for y'all- we all have that one friend who acts more mature than the rest, has the biggest IQ but is SURPRISINGLY YOUNGER THAN US. Sometimes, you listen to their quirky ideas and you think you're either safe or in danger-
Knuckles is the Himbo. Looks tough, is a strong dude, but has the mindset of a child. Big-hearted dude who can give the best hugs, but the possibility that they will crush your bones when doing it. Also like your motivational coach in Physical Education- Definitely the fun brother.
Sticks is the one friend who has "strange" interests. Interests like conspiracies, theories, unexplainable shit, superstitious beliefs and anarchy. Sometimes, you're too scared to talk to them because of how they act towards you. Unpredictable and heck, a force of nature if you try to describe them yourself-
Shadow, the edgiest edgelord in the group. Always stay on the sides, mostly in dark areas. Definitely scary af, and gives death glares if you look at them. They make the most solid burns toward you or your enemies and the most aggressive one in school fights. The bad boy/girl/enby you'll ever meet. They probably have done bad shit in the past and have a motorcycle at the age of 10. Despite their bad attitude, they do care for you.. maybe 50/50. Depends on them.
For me? I'm definitely Sticks in my friend group. How about you? :3
#sonic boom#sonic the hedgehog#sonic t. hedgehog#miles tails prower#tails the fox#amy rose#knuckles the echidna#sticks the badger#shadow the hedgehog#sonic boom is the REAL reason why I got into the franchise#team sonic#team sonic boom#honestly sonic boom needs more justice#i want a season 3 SEGA
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