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unboundprompts · 3 months

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Pirate Terms and Phrases

-> Pirate Lingo

-> A Pirate's Glossary

Batten Down The Hatches - tie everything down and put stuff away for a coming storm.

Brig - a prison on a ship.

Bring a Spring Upon 'er - turn the ship in a different direction

Broadside - the most vulnerable angle of a ship that runs the length of the boat.

Cutlass - a thick, heavy and rather short sword blade.

Dance with Jack Ketch - to hang; death at the hands of the law (Jack Ketch was a famed English executioner).

Davy Jones's Locker - a mythical place at the bottom of the ocean where drowned sailors are said to go.

Dead Men Tell No Tales - the reason given for leaving no survivors.

Flogging - severe beating of a person.

Gangplank - removable ramp between the pier and ship.

Give No Quarter - show no mercy.

Jack - flag flown at the front of the ship to show nationality.

Jolly Roger - black pirate flag with a white skull and crossbones.

Keelhaul - a punishment where someone is dragged under the ship. They are cut by the planks and barnacles on the bottom of the ship.

Landlubber - an inexperienced or clumsy person who doesn't have any sailing skills.

Letters of Marque - government-issued letters allowing privateers the right to piracy of another ship during wartime.

Man-O-War - a pirate ship that is decked out and prepared for battle.

Maroon - to leave someone stranded on a. deserted island with no supplies, typically a punishment for any crew members who disrespected the captain.

Mutiny - a situation in which the crew chooses a new captain, sometimes by forcibly removing the old one.

No Prey, No Pay - a common pirate law that meant crew members were not paid, but rather received a share of whatever loot was taken.

Old Salt - experienced pirate or sailor.

Pillage - to steal/rob a place using violence.

Powder Monkeys - men that performed the most dangerous work on the ship. They were treated harshly, rarely paid, and were expendable.

Privateer - government-appointed pirates.

Run A Shot Across the Bow - fire a warning shot at another boat's Captain.

Scurvy - a disease caused by Vitamin C Deficiency.

Sea Legs - when a sailor adjusts his balance from riding on a boat for a long time.

Strike Colors - lower a ship's flag to indicate surrender.

Weigh Anchor and Hoist the Mizzen - an order to the crew to pull up the anchor and get the ship sailing.

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#creative writing #writeblr #pirate writing prompts #pirates #pirate au #glossary #pirate lingo #pirate terms and phrases #pirate language #pirate vocab #pirate vocabulary #victorian slang #how to talk like a pirate #how to write #writing tips #fiction writing #writing advice #writing help #writing resources

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chatsukimi · 16 days

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ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

featuring: protective!heian!sukuna, kindhearted!servant!reader. slight angst/hurt -> comfort. synopsis: you're sick. to your surprise, you're rescued by the man second closest to death himself. masterlist

you should've known he wouldn't come. sukuna has never set foot in the servant's headquarters in his life, let alone to chase after a sick servant. you lower your head, trying to ease the headache that has plagued you through the day.

sukuna loves his bloodshed and his gore. him and death would be good friends, you think to yourself. he wouldn't care if your body was burnt or buried, you think to yourself; wouldn't care if you died at all.

the room the others put you in is empty. ash spreads neatly over the cold floor. the scent of kibble haunts the atmosphere. it's where they put the dogs before sukuna killed them.

ever since you took care of the king of curses while he was sick, the other servants had been careful in keeping a distance from you. not in ill of heart; they're simply terrified at what you must've done to survive in your week long stay with the monster. honestly, you don't blame them.

but now when you're laying on the freezing ground, struggling to breathe, it's hard not to.

'this is where you live?'

your eyes look up. shock. then, with all the strength you can muster, you heave yourself one step away from the man at the doorway, which only serves to piss him off more.

sukuna ryomen, in all his glory, looks down at you. bending down to pick you up like a limp doll to be seated against the wall, he seems to revel in his regained strength. you can't help but feel happy for him, to have survived this fatal disease. not many men can attest to that...

then again, he is no ordinary man.

'i asked you a question.'

you nod, a small thing, barely a movement. he seems to clench his teeth.

he takes off his long white coat, flaunting a layer of dried blood, and drapes it over your shoulders.

yet it doesn't end there. he retrieves from his pocket a bottle of what looks to be a golden syrup.

you know exactly what it is.

he takes your hand and wraps it around the flask, making you hold it, sparing, not one, but two of his eyes, to stare at you, making sure you do as he commands.

'swallow.'

you shake your head. you know he's asking you to do. this is a medication is so rare for your disease that no sorcerer has found in over a hundred years. he's brought this thing of myth right to your very lips. now he's asking you to drink it, and thus take away any chance of it saving anyone else's life.

you scowl, but the tickling sensation in your throat grows stronger, eventually erupting out of your mouth in a harsh cough. you look away from sukuna.

'leave,' you whisper, weakly. 'don't wanna infect you.'

'i survived the illness already. i've developed an immunity.'

you shake your head again. you couldn't threaten your king's health with your own weakness. you just couldn't.

'i can't take this.'

he growls. without any notice, he swallows your lips in a kiss. in the momentary haze, you could hardly resist, fisting the front of his kimono to ground yourself. then, you feel something sweet, honey-ish, hit your tongue.

with his hand locked on your chin, it forces you to swallow.

you pull back, pushing him away. he groans.

he wipes his mouth, still with two eyes staring.

no... no, why did he do that?

'y-you- how? no... why did you waste it on me?' you whisper, desperately searching his face for an answer. 'i'm just a servant. you could've given it to a princess, or a scholar, or priest-'

he grabs you by the arm and forces you into his arms. its heat astounds you, and you find yourself crawling closer. a vague thumping sound seems to press against your ear-

oh. you calm your breathing.

it's his heartbeat.

alive.

'sleep in my room tonight,' he demands.

what did he say? you strain your mind, trying to replay what he said earlier. no... maybe you heard correctly.

'but i'm no concubine,' you respond, instantly.

his arm supports your waist, helping you up effortlessly to your feet. he then directs two of his eyes to the doorway, his cadence low and domineering.

'it doesn't matter.'

he leads you placidly through the servant's quarters. you notice all conversation cease at your entry, bodies dropping into a low bow. a small voice in you whispers that it's where you should be too. you tug at sukuna's arm.

'i'm only a servant, sukuna.'

you know what it looks like, a servant clutching onto a man, more god than human. a man who has slaughtered villages, blood staining the base of his kimono crimson, and turned half a province on its head, just to save you.

'whatever you are in my eyes is what you are to the world,' he states, his expression unchanging. 'if i deem you a queen, that is who you are.'

exiting the servant compound, you know you can't say no- not like you wanted to. the wide expanse of his chest is comforting.

yet however sweet this feeling remains, you can't help but gulp. perhaps this is the closest a human has ever come to courting death.

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk #jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna angst

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indigovigilance · 8 months

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The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death

read on Ao3

The final fifteen is obviously a major plot point, and serves a role in a story that was written long before Terry Pratchett was ever diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. But the scene itself wasn’t written until just a few years ago, during the writing of Season 2. In fact, the scene came about during a park bench conversation between Neil Gaiman and John Finnemore.

Others have noted that the non-romantic kiss that signals the story moving into the third act is a Neil Gaiman staple. The function of such a kiss, from Gaiman’s perspective, is to communicate.

In 2023 we are seeing a lot of stories written by men, for men, about men who are best friends and discover that their friendship can go deeper than the norms of society would usually allow; that platonic and romantic love are not so far apart, and perhaps the better word for a relationship that can be described this way is intimacy.

Neil Gaiman has made it clear in interviews that his friendship with Terry Pratchett was deeply intimate. They began collaborating on what would become Good Omens in the 1980’s, endured a tumultuous experience together through the first publication, wherein Neil offered to martyr himself on behalf of Terry if the book failed, and then spent the better part of two decades touring the world, meeting the people who loved their work. Neil would even off-handedly remark that Terry’s fans were so cheerful, and Neil’s seemed like they were ready to kill themselves; wouldn’t it be nice if they got married? From the outside, it looks very much as if Terry was Aziraphale-coded, and Neil was Crowley-coded, working together in an unexpected partnership to make the world a little bit more tolerable for the humans inhabiting it. I am not conjecturing that Neil and Terry had romantic inclinations the way their fictional characters do, but I think it is fair to say that their opposites-attract intimacy became an important part of who each of them were.

In 2007 Terry Pratchett was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, he began to lose himself, and knew that the person he used to be was slipping away. He wanted to end his life on his own terms, and die as himself, but England did not and still does not allow for voluntary euthanasia or assisted suicide. He advocated for the right to die but never achieved it, and ultimately succumbed to the disease in 2015. Neil Gaiman has spoken a lot on the topic of death, and one answer of his that resonated with me reads:

Mostly it feels terrible. It even feels terrible when it’s someone who has been in a lot of pain for a long time or has not really been there for a long time and you know that Death has in some ways been a blessing: suddenly you are mourning the whole person.

It doesn’t get easier as you age. It gets stranger. The point where you realise how many people you used to know and like who aren’t there any longer, and you cannot talk to them or see them or laugh with them is painful in a way that I had never expected. The first time that someone you had a romantic relationship with dies and you realise that there had been moments both of you shared and now you are the sole custodian of those moments and one day you will be gone and they will be lost forever is peculiarly strange and hard.

~~~

The entire show is seeded with references to Terry Pratchett, but the most important one is the one that’s missing. Neil Gaiman cameoed as a sleeping moviegoer in S1E4, but a long time ago, he and Terry had discussed cameoing as sushi restaurant-goers, because sushi was weirdly prominent in the book. That cameo would have been in S1E1. But when it came time to do it, Neil couldn’t. Not without Terry.

Neil: I was gonna say our location is a Chinese restaurant we’d had turned into a sushi restaurant. So Terry and I, Terry Pratchett and I, had a standing… not even a standing joke, just a standing plan, that we were going to have sushi - there was going to be a scene in Good Omens where sushi was eaten and we were gonna be extras, we were gonna sit in the background, eating sushi while it was done. And I was so looking forward to this and, so I wrote this scene with it being sushi, even though Terry was gone, with that in mind and I thought: Oh, I’ll sit and I’ll eat lots of sushi as an extra, this will be my scene as an extra, I’ll just be in the background. And then, on the day, or a couple of days before, I realized that I couldn’t do it.

Douglas: You never told me this before either. I might have pushed you into doing it, had I known. I think you were right not to tell me.

Neil: I was keeping it to me self ‘cause I was always like: Oh, maybe I’ll be… this will be my cameo. And then I couldn’t. I was just so sad, ‘cause Terry wasn’t there. And it was probably the day that I missed Terry the most of all of the filming - it was just this one scene ‘cause it was written for Terry and all of the sushi meals we’d ever had and all of the strange way that sushi ran through Good Omens.

~~~

In the Final Fifteen, it is clear that Crowley and Aziraphale want to stay together. They love each other. They each know that the other loves them. There’s nothing that needs to be said, no convincing that their bond is true and real and precious.

But Aziraphale has to go to Heaven, and Crowley cannot follow him there.

I cannot speculate what it must have been like for Neil to endure losing a friend who, though I’m sure he desperately wanted to still be in his life, he also knew that life had become a burden to him, and grieved that Terry was not able to choose the time and manner of his departure from this Earth. This sort of complex grief, we fan-ficcers know, is the kind that is often best processed through story-telling.

I think that what we see Crowley going through in the Final Fifteen, alongside its importance to the story arc of Good Omens overall, is Neil processing his grief at losing his friend Terry Pratchett, and even the kiss, that violent, terrible, awful kiss, was the symbolic representation of Neil saying goodbye.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ivoc #this meta ended up being only about 2/3 the length of my usual metas and somehow that feels appropriate because Terry's life ended too soon #and the jarring brevity of this piece parallels that feeling of sudden unexpected loss #for me anyways I don't know about you guys #if this made your eyes even slightly moist you are obligated to reblog to help someone else feel their feels #I don’t make the rules #but them is the rules #blessed by Beelzebub

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f1byjessie · 4 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

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yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

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mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

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yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

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mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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yourusername there’s no place like home

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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mynameismckenziemae · 1 month

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All of Me

Part 1

(next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC/You

Summary: You find yourself bored at the beach on a rare day of R & R. Things get a lot more interesting when Jake runs into you (literally). One thing leads to another and you find yourself back at Jake’s for a steamy, fun filled night.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Non-explicit smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), slight mentions of losing a spouse, alcohol use, etc.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Relaxation has never been your forte.

Starting when you were a little girl; always having to sleep with one eye open to avoid your drug-addict mom’s unpredictable moods and the men she brought home. That unwanted attention only increased with age and the way you began to fill out your clothes which only fueled the resentment your mom had for you.

That resentment came to a head shortly after you turned 16 when one of her ‘friends’ made a pass at you and she subsequently kicked you out. Because it was your fault, of course.

Your best friend's family had taken you in with open arms and while it was the first time you felt like you had a home, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that her parents had another mouth to feed and another body to clothe even with their constant reassurance.

So you put your head down and continued to work hard to graduate high school early with honors. You joined the Navy at 17 shortly after with nothing but a backpack and $368 to your name.

Boot camp wasn’t a walk in the park, nor was the next 12 years of medical school and residency. During that time you fell in love, married the love of your life, got pregnant, and then watched your husband wither away from a debilitating, aggressive disease to pass away shortly after the birth of your son.

With the help from your in-laws and best friend, Maggie, you were able to stay enlisted for the past 8 years as you had navigated being a single mother and widow while also pursuing and achieving your dream of becoming a doctor.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Late last night you arrived home from an endless 6 (and hopefully your last) month deployment-a week earlier than expected. Normally coming back from deployments early is ideal, but your son, Drew, was at Disney with grandma and grandpa for a few more days.

So here you sit on the beach with a cold beer catching some rays while trying and failing to relax.

A rowdy group of guys playing some version of football down the beach keeps creeping closer with each play and the hot, sandy-haired quarterback keeps catching your eye. He’s peacocking for you; flexing and glancing your way. You pointedly ignore it and have to bite back your smile when he deflates.

It doesn’t stop you from sneaking peeks at his sweaty chest under the cover of your sunglasses though as you pull out the smutty book Maggie’s been begging you to read.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Just as you’re getting to the good part of your book, something flies over the top of you; a foot knocks the beer that was nearly to your lips down the front of your white coverup.

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” there’s an apology before he’s even on his feet. “I didn’t see you ‘till the last second.”

Liar.

“It’s alright,” you reply, looking down as you try to soak up some of the liquid with your towel but it’s no use; it’s saturated with beer, and the wet fabric clings to your torso.

“Sorry!” One of his friends yells, likely the one who threw the football. “Let me buy you an apology drink?”

“No worries,” you call back, glancing back down with a grimace. “I’m good, but thanks anyway!”

“We’ll meet you at the Hard Deck then,” his friend calls before jogging over to the rest of the group already heading that way.

“I really am sorry,” the culprit repeats. Your breath catches when you turn back to him. He’s even more good-looking up close, especially with that sheepish grin. Even though his eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, it’s obvious he’s checking you out. Your nipples are now standing to attention, pushing against your bikini top through the newly see-through fabric of your top. “I knew you were here but I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten. Are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

“I was thinking about taking your friend up on the offer,” you answer truthfully, “but most of the bars around here have a strict “no shirt no service policy.”

You know Penny wouldn’t care but still.

“I’ve got more in the cooler though. You can have one if you get me one too,” you wink before peeling off the soaking garment.

He swallows thickly as he watches before he shakes himself out of it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“So, I, uh…I’m Jake,” he says, handing you a beer. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m Reese,” you reply, shaking his hand after taking the bottle from him.

“Like the peanut butter cups?” He asks with a cheeky grin as he sits beside you in the sand.

“Wow,” you deadpan before taking a pull of your beer. “Never heard that one before.”You laugh at the dejected look on his face. “Yes, like the peanut butter cups.”

He laughs too, finally loosening up.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

It doesn’t take long for you to piece together that Jake’s younger than you and it’s obvious that he has no trouble keeping his bed warm. He learns quickly that you’re not easily impressed and changes his tune, turning the conversation toward you. You keep it vague, telling him you work in healthcare when he asks, knowing some men are easily intimidated by your degree, and in turn, he tells you he works in aviation.

Your heart pinches more than once as the afternoon passes. Your late husband, Andrew, had taken you to the beach for your first date and Jake reminds you so much of him; the way he makes you laugh; the charming cockiness when he talks about flying, the way he flirts and strokes your ego just right.

You hope your ego isn’t the only thing getting stroked when the sun begins to set. A shiver works through you, making you miss its warmth.

“Cold?” He asks as he rubs his rough, calloused palm over your arm. More goosebumps rise at his touch.

“A little,” you admit with a smile, but it quickly turns into a frown when you press your phone to check the time but it doesn’t light up. “Shoot, my phone died. So much for calling an Uber.”

“You can charge it at my place if you want. It’s not far,” he offers, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

“Sure, that’d be great,” you agree, knowing he’s offering more than a charger.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

He learn he was definitely offering more than the phone charger.

You ache in places you forgot existed as you reach for your phone buzzing on Jake’s nightstand.

Jake was better in bed than you expected.

He was a little quick on the draw the first time he had you with your back pressed against his front door, but he surprised you by dropping to his knees after he came, not even bothering to take the condom off. He’d paused at the thin line marring your lower stomach and you held your breath as you waited for him to comment or kick you out but he surprised you again by kissing your c-section scar instead before feasting between your legs like a man starved.

While you showered the sand and sticky residue of the beer off, he had ordered pizza.

After, he invited you to his bed with the excuse that your clothes were still in the dryer (even though you had both hard the buzzer). You’re not sure who fell asleep first, but you woke up a few hours later with his arms around you and his hard-on pressing against your ass.

You fell asleep after riding him, more relaxed than you had felt in years.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

You sit up as you read the messages from your son.

Drew: Mom!! Grandma and Grandpa said we could home early!

Drew: They said we’d be home by 10 with our new flight.

Drew: Is that okay? I just missed you so much.

Drew: Mommmmm

Drew: We’re boarding now.

Mom: I missed you too! Of course, it’s okay! I can’t wait to see you. I love you so much.

You look at the time when your text fails to deliver, 9:18 AM.

Shit. Time to go.

Resisting the urge to whip off the covers and scramble, you slowly get out of Jake’s bed, not wanting to wake him.

You’re quiet as you find your clothes in the dryer and gather your things.

There’s a notepad and pen on the small table near the door and your heart stutters when you see the dog tags hanging next to his keys.

Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

US Naval Aviator.

Well. He did say he was in aviation.

Your phone buzzes again and you quickly scribble a note before heading out the door.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“Reese?” Jake murmurs, cracking his eyes open when he pats the bed, finding it cold.

“No way,” he mutters grumpily as he heads out of the bedroom to find the house empty and quiet.

The first woman he’d felt anything for in years snuck out while he was sleeping.

An orange sticky note stuck to the door catches his eye and he walks over to read:

Sorry to run out-something came up and I had to get home. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again soon though, lieutenant.

Jake smiles despite himself at the smiley face you drew beside your name and sighs before heading back to bed.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

A/N: Wellllll here’s the first part! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ☺️

I’m leaving early tomorrow morning for a 6 day girls trip (to the beach) so I might be slow to respond/update but who knows, maybe I’ll get bored 🤷🏻‍♀️

Thank you to @lexixstewart again for the meet-cute at the beach idea 🫶🏻

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist (sorry if I forget anyone, I won’t be mad if you remind me).

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hookslove1592

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@buckysteveloki-me

@k-k0129

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@jessicab1991

@djs8891

@lonelysoul504

@mrsevans90

@landpiranha-blog

@bellaireland1981

@angelbabyyy99

@writtingrose

@shanimallina87

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun maverick #top gun smut #older women and younger men

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heartpascal · 11 months

Note

omg plsss do more platonic father-figure joel fics comforting the reader please i begggg they are so good

carved over the door

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you’ve been hiding something from joel, and he finally found out. his reaction is… not what you expected.

▹— a/n: ok this isn’t even like. close to being a favourite but i think the idea is cute, execution just isn’t great!! to be clear, things like this are NOTHING to be ashamed of, but this is gonna touch on how it can make the person feel!! (EDIT as of july, i have no idea how this fic is looking so please go easy, i haven’t proofread it, only tagged a bit of writing on the end to finish it up, so it’s not great)

▹— warnings: father figure joel, reader is illiterate, r is embarrassed about it, therefore says some bad things, is ashamed almost, so please be wary, cute lessons ensue, swearing, lazy writing at the end, use of ‘sweetie’

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything), @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours (pedro)

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Being born into the end of the world probably should have killed you off early. Most kids your age were either dying or dead, or being trained to become child soldiers. It was rare for kids born in the pandemic to live, you had been told. Risks of death were everywhere, from Infected, to FEDRA, all the way to all those diseases you hadnt been vaccinated against.

Survival odds were bleak, to say the least, but you were one of the lucky ones.

Life had put you in the path of the only two good people you knew — Joel and Tess. It was them who had saved you from FEDRA’s clutches, though you had never understood why. They had consistently told you that they only looked out for themselves, so was the way of life in the apocalypse, but each time you needed them, there they were.

There was that time you had an infection, and despite the weather being awful and security tight, Joel and Tess had gone out on a supply run, getting a hold of the antibiotics that had saved your life.

You tried to be useful, hopeful that if you helped them enough, as much as they helped you, that they wouldn’t kick you out any time soon.

It’s why you always took it upon yourself to clean their bloodied clothes, to sew up the tears that would have ruined them, to wash the dishes you all ate your rations off of. It’s why you always made sure to use the coldest water, refusing to take any that may be the slightest bit warm from them. Little things like that would surely keep you at least somewhat helpful.

It’s also why you kept your biggest secret quiet.

You had done your best to prevent them from ever finding out, and had they not decided that you could join them in visiting Bill and Frank, you were sure they never would’ve.

They’d known the two men for a while before you had arrived, and this would be your first time meeting them. Joel usually insisted upon you staying at the QZ, too worried over the journey and the risks it posed for you to attend any of their supply runs, but they seemed… content to let you join.

The three of you would be heading straight to Bill and Frank’s, and then straight back. No pit stops, no detours, just one confirmed route.

Your nerves had been playing up the whole time, causing you to jump at any sound, your hands shaking at the sight of Infected, hell — you had listened to every word that Joel and Tess said, though they didn’t blame you. It was your first time outside of the QZ, and they understood how frightening this could be.

You couldn’t decide if arriving at Bill and Frank’s made your anxiety better or worse.

It kept you quiet the whole time you were there, even as Bill tested the three of you, nodding when the screen flashed green. You stuck by Joel’s side as the four of you set up the table, Bill inside the house cooking dinner.

The four of you finally sat down, with Frank and Tess starting up conversation quickly, before Frank stopped, turning to you and saying, “Oh, would you mind going and grabbing a bottle of Barbera, sweetie?”

He was nice, and you didn’t want to get Joel and Tess in trouble with them by bringing you if you didn’t help them out, so you nodded with a nervous glance at Joel. “Sure, in there?” You pointed towards the house, and Frank nodded with a smile, turning back to his conversation with Tess.

You stepped away from the table, glancing back and seeing Joel looking at you with a quirked eyebrow, frown marring his features. You smiled tightly toward him before opening the front door, stepping inside and following the smell of cooking until you found Bill. “Um, Frank said to grab the bottle of… Bar—Barbera?”

Bill grunted, a grumpy expression covering his face, and nodded his head toward another door. You went through it quickly, down some steps, and you just about stopped yourself from crying when you saw the number of bottles around the room.

By the three minute mark, the stairs creaked, and Joel appeared at the bottom, looking increasingly concerned as he saw your distressed expression. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—it’s fine.” You replied, your voice shaking slightly, and you looked away from him, continuing to scan all the bottles on the shelves in front of you. The labels meant nothing to you, and you couldn’t help but get more upset by Joel’s presence.

He placed a hand on your shoulder as he approached, and didn’t say a word as he grabbed a bottle up towards your left. He led you out of the room, handing you the bottle and guiding you to where the other three were now settled at the table, food set out in front of them.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Frank said kindly as you set the bottle down at the table, quickly pulling your hands back before anybody could see the shake to your fingers.

You sat through the rest of the dinner quietly, barely able to enjoy the actual nice, home-cooked food through your racing thoughts. You answered Frank when he spoke to you, still knowing that you needed to be polite, but you were starting to feel sick.

When the three of you finally made it home, Joel and Tess had shared a number of concerned glances, eyebrows drawn close together as they murmured between one another, still talking quietly even when you dropped down on the sofa, a sigh leaving your chest.

It stayed that way for the next few weeks, and there was an awkward energy growing in the apartment the three of you shared. With your uncharacteristic quietness, and the way Joel and Tess would converse quietly, as if you hadn’t noticed, something was up.

That much became increasingly obvious when Joel sat you down on the couch you slept on, the crease between his brows as deep as ever.

He said your name nervously, and cleared his throat before he continued, “When we were at Bill and Frank’s, I, uh— I noticed somethin’.”

“Noticed what?” You responded when he didn’t continue, your anxiety leaking into your voice in the way it shook as you spoke, and you knew exactly what was coming. He’d realised your secret — he and Tess must’ve been deciding what to do during all of those talks.

“Fuck,” He muttered, clearly unsure how to go about this conversation, “Don’t… take this the wrong way, but, can you read?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you swallowed nervously. “‘Course I can read, Joel.” You replied, snapping at the man, who just frowned more at your response.

He nodded, and reached into the backpack by his feet, pulling out a relatively thin book. He looked almost remorseful, pulling this out when he knew you were lying, and you hated the way that shame pulled at your stomach, making you feel sick as you looked at the letters you couldn’t make any sense of.

“Y’know, there’s nothin’ wrong with not knowing.” Joel said, voice softening as he looked at your panicked expression.

“Except that you don’t want me around anymore, right? It’s fine, but it’s not good enough. Don’t want some dumbass kid who can’t even read hanging around, is that it?” You snapped, anger firing up in your chest as you stood from the couch, fists clenched at your side as you averted your eyes from the book in his hand.

Your cheeks were burning, embarrassment flooding your expression, and your eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

“What? No, kid, sit back down.” He said, pushing you back to your seat by your shoulders. “Don’t go ‘round making assumptions like that. I’m offering to teach you.”

“Oh.”

He snickered at your response, though he looked almost embarrassed to be making the offer, like he was unsure what your response would be.

“So… you’re not kicking me out?”

“‘Course not. Getting ahead of yourself, there.”

“You really wouldn’t mind… teaching me?” You asked, heart still hammering in your chest as you stared at the man, his face softening at your nervous questions.

In response, he moved to sit right beside you on the couch, and opened the book in his hands. “It’s been a while for me, kid, so go easy.”

You smiled at him, wiping your tears before settling close to his side, head gently resting against his arm to get the best angle of his book. He pointed an index finger at the words as he read aloud, pointing new letters out each time they came up. Some familiar words came up, spelled phonetically, and made sense once you’d learnt the full alphabet on paper, but others made much less sense. Like fight — where did the gh come from?

By the time the two of you had made it through the first chapter, you could recognise letters on paper, know the sounds that the letters made, and even read majority of the simpler words, the ones that came up often.

Tess came home a bit later on, after you had fallen asleep against Joel’s shoulder. She raised her eyebrows, a hint of something like a smile on her face as she looked at the two of you, and asked, “Good first lesson?”

Joel wiped a hand down his face, his muscles tense in his efforts to keep still in order to not wake you, and stay awake himself. “Made some good progress.” He acknowledged, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he looked down to where you were slipping from his shoulder. Tess nodded at him, before heading down the hall to get on with unpacking her backpack.

From then on, these sorts of evenings happened a few times a week, almost always ending with you falling asleep against Joel. Your reading ability improved, and when the two of you finished the short book, you started rereading it immediately, now able to follow along more clearly as the stuttered words flowed more easily, and soon enough, Joel was promising to grab a new book from Bill and Frank’s.

The new words were tricky, when starting the new book, but each time you got stuck, Joel was there to help, and eventually, you got used to reading without his help. Sounding out words you were stuck on yourself, just waiting for his confirming mmhm to be muttered before you would continue on.

When finally, you finished an entire chapter without a murmur from Joel, you pulled away from his side excitedly, looking towards his face and seeing his expression being nothing short of filled with pride. He pulled you back to his side, one arm wrapped around you this time, and squeezed your shoulders before urging you to continue.

Feeling your eyes start to slip, words going blurred on the page, you asked, “Could you keep going?” Without questioning you, he continued from where you left off, reading the words out loud and keeping his arm wrapped firmly around your shoulder.

It was strange, hearing that softness to Joel’s voice, when before these lessons, you’d only ever heard the gruff voice he usually had. It made sense, you supposed, given that he remained rough around the edges for everybody who wasn’t you and Tess, but it made you feel… almost comfortable. It was like a safety net was wrapped around you, like nothing could happen to you if you stayed at his side.

You yawned, eyes still trying to focus on the book that Joel continued to read, his finger subconsciously moving along the page whilst he spoke the words.

It wasn’t long before you fell asleep against him, his voice fading to a whisper when he realised. It became something of a tradition between the two of you, these lessons where Joel taught you, and then eventually read to you until you fell asleep. He didn’t mention how much it reminded him of before, of her. And you didn’t mention how much more comfortable you had gotten since the lessons had started.

No longer were you on the edge of your seat, waiting for them to give you the boot. Now, you finally felt… accepted. In a way you never had been before Joel, before being taught something that wasn’t just for survival.

Strangely, it was almost like you could live, rather than survive. You didn’t voice it aloud, but you suspected Joel felt similarly, if his change in behaviour said anything.

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diejager · 6 months

Note

Am kinda curious and want more of monster's 141 +Konig and other's x human reader.

So! Before all the shit Graves did, how was meeting with reader?? Was it bad or did he and the shadow vampire also wanted her?? Am soooo curious, and hopefully you can see this ask !!

P.s I love your writing !!!! 😆😆

Cw: blood drinking, trafficking, tell me if I missed any.

In the same occasion as this Drabble, before all the shit Shepherd and Graves put TF141 and the Los Vaqueros through, he’s a man of self-priority, putting his ego and goals before anyone else’s. He’s a selfish and condescending man, controlling in occasions and extremely possessive of the things that are is —either given or taken.

He wants you out of curiosity and need, he’s a simple vampire after all. It’s the curiosity to know what makes you so special to the men in 141, what makes them cling to you so strongly with a protective stance and this overarching need to have you unharmed from them or other people; and the need for fresh and filling nourishment, something young and lively.

You smell sweet and healthy, something every vampire craves to stay strong and thrive. You would make an amazing blood bag, or perhaps a human thrall used for feeding and servitude alone. You smelled like addiction, good blood that Graves rarely found wherever he went: poor and famished countries, abandoned and forgotten towns, disease and drug ridden cities. Humanity had turned for the worse and he has a specific palette, he’s sophisticated —or so he likes to call himself. He’s a commander of a known PMC, he has power and fame, how hard is it to find the right blood bag? Difficult.

While it might be easy to make someone disappear, he can’t have someone - anyone - besmirch his name or his company’s. That’s why he usually feeds on cold bags he buys from hospitals and other companies catering to monsters and hybrids, or feeds on those that are willing to be bought. Once he’s had his fill, his Shadows get the rest, lapping at the lasting drops, leaving just enough blood in their victim to stay alive, heart beating slow and body still warm.

You are temptation in the face, sweetness that they were starved for a while now. It didn’t quell his interest knowing that Price and his boys were ruthlessly protective of you, lingering so close to you and never leaving you alone. It’s like a game, a taunt or something Graves could hold over their heads if he got you. If not a win, it was fun.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @kaelysia @mixplara @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

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rthko · 10 months

Text

Gay men have an incel problem. There's no doubt that "attractiveness" is a loaded concept and that beauty standards correlate with power relations, but it is rare to find a discourse framework so dogmatic in its association of beauty with privilege. It's morally just, then, that "privilege" be knocked down a peg. That guy who won't let you, specifically, fuck him? He's your oppressor, and if you're feeling more bold he's an airhead. He's catty and shallow. He's a disease-riddled drug abusing slut. He's probably insecure and has no self worth outside of sex and parties. See how quickly the logic of "punching up" becomes the pickup artist technique of "negging." The object of your desire, who it's your birthright to have sex with, is unapproachable, but you can bring him to your level and assert control by making him insecure.

One of the most glaring exceptions I can think of to the notion of beauty as power includes those who maintain a certain physique for sex work. The stripper or "OnlyFans gay" could be outed and fired from his day job, the boy who pays his living expenses through sugaring lives at the mercy of these relationships, the full service sex worker could face the full brunt of state violence and incarceration. What power do they really have? Apparently just enough for gay sex workers to be a consistent target of incel-style harassment on The Website Formerly Known as Twitter.

Since all parties involved are men or in some way adjacent to manhood, it's hard to apply a predictable script of gender relations to these interactions. But it's hard not to see a resemblance between "jocks" and "Chads," "twinks" and "Stacys," "InstaGays" and "E-Girls." If this all sounds ridiculous, it is. But half a century of "Castro Clone" discourse has borne no fruit. Insightful conversations on intra-community power relations and people excluded from gay life on account of their bodies are too often overshadowed by a politics of sexual entitlement and resentment. It is then no longer about disparities of race, ability or class but 20 year olds with Lana Del Rey profile pics who have nothing to add to the conversation but their own unfunny memes and bitterness. Log off.

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thesituation · 5 months

Text

i think a lot of tumblr users are afflicted with the same disease as conservatives wherein they see things online and assume that whatever it is they’re seeing, whether it’s evil trans people or women being “misandrist”, applies to society at large rather than being a select corner of the internet reflecting a very very rarely held belief or behavior in broader society. conservatives thinking trans women are bathroom predators is just as detached from reality as the people on here who spend paragraphs explaining why men are victims of patriarchy. it’s all born out of a kneejerk reaction to something online, and they then become resistant to hearing otherwise and seek instead to validate that kneejerk reaction based on biases we’ve all been conditioned to believe. in most cases people begin to think something extremely and astronomically uncommon is somehow commonplace and a legitimate issue to raise hell about just because it’s “not discussed enough which means it’s being covered up/nobody cares about [imaginary victims of said fake phenomenon]” which feeds the fire even more so and makes them feel like they have a purpose in bringing these things to light. in reality you are falling victim to availability bias based on what you see on the internet

#.txt

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pathetichimbos · 8 months

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He's truly so handsome and beautiful in his own way, he's so tall and strong and his hair is so messy yet so mesmerizing to look at and the way he just does anything is worth watching

Thomas is a very handsome man, and there's not a single doubt in my mind that he didn't have such a severe skin disease and clear neurodivergency in such a small, judgmental town, he would've easily found someone and settled down quickly.

He's tall, with thick, curly hair, strong arms and a wide build set, he's practically begging to be wifed up, but in classic southern culture, anything different is shamed and shunned.

To them, it didn't matter that he was just a kid born with a bit (well, a lot) of bad luck, he was diseased and contagious.

Parents warned their children not to get too close, people covered their faces if he breathed a little too hard, and no one ever treated him like a normal child.

There was more than one instance where young Tommy would go to the store with Luda Mae when she managed to scrape enough cash together to get something small, and everyone would drop what they were doing to give him odd glances and confused stares.

Thomas has never been confrontational, so he hides quietly behind his mother's dress, tiny hands pulling at the old, stained fabric to hide his face.

Of course, his mother is a lot more argumentative, noticing rather quickly how uncomfortable everyone was making her precious baby feel.

"You really think he can help you find your groceries or you just like starin' at little boys?" She asks loudly, staring down a younger gentleman with a warning glare in her eyes.

"What!? No-- I--" The man stumbles over his words, trying to back-track and explain himself.

"Come on, Tommy," Luda Mae grabs her sons hand, pulling him down the aisle, "Let's get away from this pervert."

"I'm not a pervert!" The young man calls back, letting out a sigh in defeat and going back to his shopping.

Thomas can't help but smile, stifling a chuckle as he follows behind quickly.

...That's how it always went when he was a kid. Of course, and unfortunately, things changed as he got older, and not for the better.

He shot up like a weed, his shoulders got wide, and he got big.

He was no longer a strange, deformed kid hiding behind his mother's dress, earning pitiful looks and sympathetic head shakes, he was dangerous, and a monster.

Suddenly the town he grew up in wasn't as kind (not that it was all that kind in the first place), and people that once spared him a rare, feel-sorry smile wouldn't give him a second look, quickly leaving the room in unjustified fear.

He was even more shunned than before, ridiculed by the men he worked with and fearfully avoided by any woman that might catch a glimpse of him.

He could hear people talk about him in rooms he walked past, laughing loudly as they verbally berated him behind his back, most of them too afraid to actually say anything to his face.

He didn't understand why they were so scared. He had never hurt anyone, not so much as raising a fist in anger, but he was treated as he was just some dangerous freak who could snap at anytime.

Years of abuse and mistreatment falls on his shoulders, but he never hurts a soul. He puts up and shuts up, keeping to himself and trying not to cry himself to sleep most nights.

Only when the factory shuts down and he has to face that his entire life as he knows it is over does he finally snap, and in my opinion, it was well deserved.

But, that's another topic for another post. I'll go ahead and end my drabble rant here. Thanks for sending in the ask love <3

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x y/n #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

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lyomeii · 2 years

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a child with an incurable illness

->warning: yandere theme, platonic relationship, death (not reader)

-> request by anon! My first ever request I sincerely apologize for any mistakes I made! Could you, however, write the agriche family reaction on a child!reader who has recently become gravely ill? And finding out their illness is incurable. (If you aren't writing right now, you can delete this!)

->a/n: okay, this and the winter drafts are the only ones who didn’t got deleted, so yeah :/ but the good side is that i am back writing after my tests are over. So, enjoy. also in this imagine, I made the reader’s dead :) and I almost forget, after this i shall open my request tomorrow. Ps: this isn’t my best work since I spend a long time withou writing so forgive me

-> they didn’t saw that coming, none of them expect you to fall ill like that. It’s was spring and as usual, you were walking in the garden under Maria’s and Sierra’s watchful eyes, worrying about if you could trip someone and get hurts or bleed your knees

-> but the worst happened, the immense sound of you failing down over the roses and hurting your skins with thorns made Sierra screams, hoping you to get up and say “ that was nothing” and go back playing, however, you didn’t got up and blood start running your white shirt, making Sierra and Maria taking you to the family’s doctor

-> the news were swift told by toward the family members who all came to visit you at your bedroom, where the doctor was trying their best to find what exactly happened and what disease you have. After a few hours, the doctor step out of the bedroom and tell Lante about your disease

-> a rarely yet deadly disease that probably your mother’s side of the family carried for years and that now got you too. Such news made your parents and siblings distressed about it, threatening to kill the doctor if a cure isn’t found and well that what happen after the poor man told there is no cure for such disease.

-> with such news, none of them give up of finding a cure. Lante send his best men to very part of the world, Dion visit horrible places to find anything related to the disease while the others members tried their best to make your life more comfortable as times pass. Depends of the day, you fell terrible, sometimes you can raise from bed nor eat properly meals that the best chef ever made, yet there is the good days where you spend a few minutes out of your bedroom, listening to Grizelda reading a book, Roxanna showing her butterflies or Jeremy spending time with you til bedtime.

-> when the soldiers and Dion return home, they all have the same answer about your state, no cure. With all hope lost. Now the family decided to try their best to kept you alive for as long as possible and enjoy moment at their side, however as much they have numerous plans to spend their time with you, the disease got worsen.

-> incapable of speaking nor walking by yourself, you are now locked inside your bedroom doing simple activities that don’t require much strength such as reading or drawing. And whatever someone is free from their duties, they spend their time with you.

-> Roxanna and Jeremy tell stories of the outside with the butterflies flying around the bedroom. Grizelda takes you to the garden where you should to play, but this time she is either carrying you or use a wheelchair at the side of Sierra and Maria, both who make you laugh and smile with the many sweeties and toys you gain from them

-> in the other hand, Dion still act a little cold and distant about you. As much he wants to spend at your side and enjoy the last moments of your life, he feels that if does that, he might suffer even more than he wishes.

-> the day is coming closer, they all can sense it and when the moment arrive, the household shall prepare the greatest and most gorgeous funeral of all time

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #the way to protect female lead’s older brother imagine #the way to protect female lead’s older brother x reader #yandere the way to protect female lead’s older brother x reader #yandere dion agriche #dion agriche headcanon #yandere jeremy agriche #jeremy agriche x reader #roxanna agriche x reader #yandere roxanna agriche #lante agriche x reader #yandere manhwa

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cxyotl · 1 year

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Piglin stuff bc im. bored and kinda sad.

-Piglins are a Netherian race of anthropomorphic boars. The term “piglin” is an Overworld name for the race, literally meaning “pig-like” or “derived from pigs”. the term was adopted by the piglins, who’s word for themselves could be translated to a similar phrase.

-Piglins are matriarchal and live in clans but the eldest son of the clan is trained as a brute, or soldier in the multi-clan bastions as a representative. “brute” is, again, an Overworld name based on the Piglim word for soldier, which is a grunt that sounds a bit like the English word “brute”. the Piglin word is actually more like “brrutk.”

-Piglin language (Grüntish) is made up of a series of grunts, oinks, and squeals. one grunt can mean many different things based on culture, context, and tone. for example, take “brrutk”. that grunt or word can translate to soldier, eldest son, diplomat, or even villain depending on how the grunt is enunciated.

-Because Piglins naturally have a warmer body temperature, about 115° F or 46° C, cold temperatures are a better indicator of illness than warmer temperatures. the zombie virus, also known as the rotting disease, is a disease that happens when Netherians are exposed to colder temperatures or are ill enough that they become cold.

-The rotting disease pandemic hit the Nether severely, wiping out fauna and flora for a long time before it was managed. Piglins, their forests, and their main sources of food (hoglins and striders) were especially affected.

-Piglins make their clothes from hoglin and strider leather. Their main source of meat is hoglins, and they usually tame striders as transportation. Hoglins are sometimes captured and placed inside of bastions to protect the area or be released in battle against enemies, but this is extremely dangerous and therefore quite rare.

-Professions within Piglin clans are loose and unspecialized, since every clan member needs to learn and act as farmers, doctors, and hunters simultaneously. Matriarchs (Kruuk), heirs, and high-ranking men in clans do the same work as the rest of the clan

-Clans are family based, but sometimes can contain as many as four or five family units. These are organized and ruled by the oldest women from each family, all working together as one democratic “council”

-LGBT identities are honored in Piglin communities. transwomen who used to be brrutks are particularly respected for their ability to become kruuks and their experience in a bastion.

-Bastions (military bases that are organized and run by multi-clan alliances) are manned by the brrutks, prisoners, and volunteers. Serving in a bastion is both an honorable thing and a punishment depending on why you are there.

-Killing a hoglin is the most honorable thing a piglin can do, and an apprentice piglin (a younger member if a clan who is training) killing their first hoglin is a cause for celebration as it marks the end of their training. Hoglets (baby hoglins) are never hunted, but they can be captured to be brought into bastions.

#minecraft lore #piglins #minecraft headcanons

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redr0sewrites · 3 months

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🥀Zestial Doodles🥀

tumblr why do u keep fucking with the quality urghhh- hes so pookie bear coded i love him sm-

ANYWAAAAYSSS i could yap about zestial for hours so here are some of my hcs (esp for his human form/life) below:

starting off strong, i hc that he has a very narrow upper palette in his mouth, which is why in death his mouth looks all crooked. while we don't know much about zestial, we do know he's old af and obviously dentists weren't really around in his era, so he pretty much lived with the narrow palette his entire life (tootalluyyy not projecting)

he also has a naturally crooked smile + teeth, and heavy dimples

back when he was alive, he had a high social status/class and was a relatively wealthy noble. he worked his way up from the bottom through making deals and earning favors, which attributed to his cunning nature

zestial was a serial killer, and would attack anyone who wronged him or disobeyed him. because he was so intelligent, his victims would often disappear quickly and quietly with no evidence tying back to him.

zestial was diagnosed with porphyria at a young age, which is a blood disease that is related to your liver and bone marrow, and the overall production of a certain hemoglobin that assists your blood in transporting oxygen around the body. porphyria can cause pale skin, receding gums, and other vampire-like traits which caused many around him to become suspicious and begin starting rumors that he was a vampire

doctors would sometimes prescribe patients in the middle ages with blood diseases to drink animal blood, and when given that prescription, zestial decided to take it a step further and start drinking human blood as well (leading to his spider-like traits in the afterlife, and also adding to the vampire rumors)

eventually he was caught and burned at the stake, leading to his charred skin and lack of features in death

zestial's hair is very curly, but he would slick it back to fit in more with the european standard. he also refused to wear a white wig like most upperclass men, which set him apart in social gatherings

he has heavy eyebags and rarely sleeps, even when he was alive he was much more active at night

zestial was incredibly tall even in life and especially tall for his time period. he would often wear a hat to appear even taller

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warcrimesimulator · 9 months

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A 33-year-old New Zealand woman who was accused of faking debilitating symptoms has died of Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS).

Stephanie Aston, 33, passed away in her home in Auckland on 1 September, the New Zealand Herald reports.

Aston became an advocate for patients' rights after doctors refused to take her EDS symptoms seriously and blamed them on mental illness. She was just 25 when those symptoms began in October 2015. At the time, she did not know she had inherited the health condition.

EDS refers to a group of inherited disorders caused by gene mutations that weaken the connective tissues, according to the National Institutes of Health (NIH). These tissues are responsible for many important functions, and they support the skin, bones, blood vessels, and other organs.

Symptoms of EDS include fragile, small blood vessels; loose joints; abnormal scar formation; abnormal wound healing; and soft, stretchy, velvety skin that bruises easily, per the NIH.

There are at least 13 different types of EDS, and the conditions range from mild to life-threatening. EDS is extremely rare: Only one in every 5,000 people have it. Patients with EDS can sometimes receive treatments that might help manage their symptoms—such as physical therapy—but there is no cure for the illness. People who live with EDS often have to restructure their lives to learn how to protect their joints and prevent injuries.

Aston sought medical help after her symptoms—which included severe migraines, abdominal pain, joint dislocations, easy bruising, iron deficiency, fainting, tachycardia, and multiple injuries—began in 2015, per the New Zealand Herald. She was referred to Auckland Hospital, where a doctor accused her of causing her own illness.

Because of his accusations, Aston was placed on psychiatric watch. She had to undergo rectal examinations and was accused of practising self-harming behaviours. She was suspected of faking fainting spells, fevers, and coughing fits, and there were also suggestions that her mother was physically harming her.

There was no basis for the doctor’s accusations that her illness was caused by psychiatric issues, Aston told the New Zealand Herald. “There was no evaluation prior to this, no psych consultation, nothing,” she said.

She eventually complained to the Auckland District Health Board and the Health and Disability Commissioner of New Zealand. “I feel like I have had my dignity stripped and my rights seriously breached,” she said.

Research suggests women are often much more likely to be misdiagnosed than men. A 2009 study of patients with heart disease symptoms found 31.3 per cent of middle-aged women “received a mental health condition as the most certain diagnosis”, compared to just 15.6 per cent of their male counterparts. Additionally, a 2020 study found that as many as 75.2 per cent of patients with endometriosis—a painful disorder that affects the tissue of the uterus—had been misdiagnosed after they started experiencing endometriosis symptoms. Among those women, nearly 50 per cent were told they had a “mental health problem”.

One reason women’s health conditions are often ignored or misdiagnosed could come down to where the research stands. A 2022 paper states that “females remain broadly under-represented in the medical literature, sex and gender are poorly reported and inadequately analysed in research, and misogynistic perceptions continue to permeate the narrative”. Women’s pain, in particular, is especially under-researched: 70 per cent of people with chronic pain are women, yet 80 per cent of available studies on pain have focused on men or male mice, per Harvard Health Publishing.

#I am feeling new levels of violence every day

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