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mayorida · 6 months

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please buy his jam, he worked so hard

#ac #animal crossing #nh #new horizons #acnh #animal crossing new horizons #nature town #naturecore #fallcore #cottagecore #tys ida #nettle

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ammoknightsofficial · 1 year

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The Splatoon 3 Art Book is raising some very important thoughts and questions in me, specifically regarding that selection of concept art of Deep Cut.

One of them featured Big Man as a Salmonid, and… That got me thinking. Splatoon 3 really fumbled the bag by not making Big Man a Salmonid, actually. I think him being a Manta Ray was the wrong choice to make, especially from our current perspective of the game’s narrative.

In Splatoon 2, Octarians had a very stressed importance. Octo Expansion did nothing but heighten this, and all of this was very gracefully tied together with one of the news hosts being an Octoling herself- one who was trying to conceal her identity as such, which made the themes presented in Octo Expansion feel all the more real. It worked, and it worked really well. Her presence as an Octoling- even as one trying to conceal their identity!- added some much needed insight on the Octarian Experience, and how it feels to live in Splatoon’s society as an oppressed racial minority. It was fascinating. It added a lot of depth to the game’s narrative and worldbuilding.

But in Splatoon 3, Salmonids have an increased importance. With Mr. Grizz being the final boss of Story Mode, Little Buddy- though his presence is discomforting- as your companion character, and Big Run being a recurring element, you’d think they’d have a Salmonid news host to add depth to our understanding of the Salmonid Experience, much like Splatoon 2 did with Marina and the Octoling Experience. It makes all but perfect sense, and it would have worked well to repeat that formula.

But… No.

We just have Big Man, a Manta Ray with a personality and current plot/lore importance as flat as his body. He’s clearly visually alienated from Shiver and Frye, but there’s no element of intrigue to it. His presence doesn’t pose any questions like Marina’s did. He’s just a walking missed opportunity. And it’s sad.

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shadowglens · 1 year

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night and day from the character design asks for my beloved ida <33

oc asks: character design edition

night: what does your oc wear to sleep? do they have a favorite pair of pjs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

ida is a big fan of very feminine, petite style pjs even if she's a little embarassed about it. lots of skimpy white camis with mini pink hearts, mini pj shorts, lacey nightgowns, you know the drill. she likes to indulge in really soft, good quality pjs dafgdsjf.

day: what does your oc wear on a normal day? why do they default to those clothes? do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?

default for ida these days is: skinny light denim jeans (normal or ripped depending on the mood), pastel coloured or white t-shirt of some kind, boots, a denim jacket or soft cardigan, a pair of sunglasses that are too big for her face, and all her belongings shoved into either the pockets of her jeans/jacket or a tiny little handbag.

#oc tag #jendoe #ch: ida greene #ty aj!!!#ida is definitely a denim on denim kinda girl and i love that for her

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m--bloop · 1 year

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Tagged by @midnightcowboy1969 thank you <3

Last song I listened to: forget by twin shadow

Three ships: my mind is blanking atm :( oh! ricardo/pollo my beloveds...

Currently reading: the nasty bits by anthony bourdain

Last movie I watched: the sicilian connection (1972) namely for ben gazzara. The story was kinda confusing and bland but there were many nice shots.

There are multiple uploads of it on youtube...

Craving: mango juice

I’m tagging: @sewerfight @benelelax @sullengirl @pettydemon @train-inthedistance @moldmoldfoldfold !

#ty ida :)#tag game

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naughtystiel · 2 years

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When you get this you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) <3

i can cook pretty damn well

im good at money and time management

i like my hands and my eyes

i befriend people easily even tho im introverted af

im handy and can fix stuff by myself

#my head is steaming but i managed lmao #ty ida 💖#answered

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mayorida · 7 months

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Finally fall 🍂

Inspiration hit on a plane yesterday, I've finally done some more little areas on my new island Nettle! 🌿

#ac #animal crossing #nh #new horizons #acnh #animal crossing new horizons #nature town #naturecore #fallcore #cottagecore #tys ida #nettle

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satoruhour · 9 months

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hello :) may i ask a husband nanami headcanons? your so talented!

a/n: ty anon !!! i hope u like this :3

warnings: (in second half of post) pregnancy kink? breeding / creampie kink ofc, consensual somnophilia, praise, pet names

i. sfw headcanons

nanami is so sweet when he first proposes to you! ofc you have sex on the daily or weekly but when he’s reading his speech to you when he’s kneeling down it’s so sweet that you cry

and this dude wonders why you’re tearing up when his words literally mirror a poet’s LMFAO

nanami proposes at a quiet place only the two of you frequent, to avoid unwanted attention like crowds (he’s just thinking about gojo and how annoying he would be)

but also because he just wants it to be as special as he can make it out to be

honestly, if the whole kuantan thing works out he would love to propose there while the waves and horizon set the scene naturally. like he already knew he wanted to retire from being a jujutsu sorcerer here but he just melts when you’re here too. everything wrapped up in one, and the tear-filled “yes!!!” makes him jump and warms his heart

has a dinner laid out for you and everything and if the beach is deserted he wouldn’t mind having u right there LOL hes quiet but freaky just sayin’ !!!

when you walk down the aisle he cries. really

and is now obsessed with how he can call you ”his wife” as opposed to “his girl”

okay but now on to the domesticity. the dynamics are almost the same: he isn’t against you heading out to earn your own money, and he’s more than happy to be a stay-at-home husband if you want him to, but seeing you in your cute apron has him already thinking of family and how you would bounce the baby on your arm as you prepare dinner

nanami is more doting when he’s your husband, not that he wasn’t before, but he thinks it’s the old age when he sees your leg cramp and he massages it or when you squint at your book so he turns up your lamp to a higher setting

also likes to flaunt off his wedding ring, albeit with flushed cheeks. he does it when he drinks tea, sliding gojo his paper work, polishing his weapon and it’s silent, laidback bragging and only gets annoyed when gojo asks about it

if anyone else does it he’s happy to talk about you lol

is a lot more slack when it comes to his salary and treating you to things, saying things like “oh, it’s okay, my pretty wife deserves this”

nanami does his part of the housework now that you’re permanently living together and pulls his weight — buying cleaning supplies, folding the laundry, buying food for the dog

he doesn’t care much about gender roles and is willing to show you that a good husband shouldn’t just be a milestone to complete and then immediately refuses to participate in household work

deadbeat husbands = boooooo

for now you’re still busy as jujutsu sorcerers, but after a year or two of being married he’s trying to convince you to take less missions, partially because he’s afraid of curses taking advantage of your relationship (not that they didnt before, but now they have a leverage against you) and marriage to hold either of you hostage

but the main reason for the persuasion is because he wanted a kid. and you step back in shock because nanami kento? wanting a kid? it seemed so out of character for him but considering how much he liked to come in you… was already pretty telling

like he loved the dog but also wanted like. biological kids. it was wild, he knows, even when you tell gojo (he’s still a little mad that you did, but it was an accident), even the six-eyes user was pretty surprised.

when the kid comes he’s just. crying again. he really loves you so much, and the fact that you carried a baby for nine months and was in pain for 12 hours and then pushed a whole ass baby out ur vagina? goddamn

you two name her nanami kumiko and he holds her like she’s the only one in the world (besides you), cooing gently as how the baby seem to snuggle into his warmth

he gives her a danish name too: ida, but he’s not sure if he should include it in the birth certificate, so he didn’t

he is very protective of his girl, especially how you techniques seemed to be passed down and how the jujutsu society might be seeking out your offspring in kuantan, but he makes sure no one comes close to the two of you, even asking gojo reluctantly to monitor any news of the higher-ups looking to ruin her childhood

nanami really thinks it’s age now, because he find it so hard to say no to your baby girl whenever she asks for something — whether non-verbal or verbal

is a calm dad, usually burping the baby after you feed her, changing her diapers, etc., even suggesting bonding by holding her close with skin-to-skin contact and you're surprised he even knows about that

you give in when you see that he does it anyway, rocking the baby softly on the balcony with his top off, already knowing she’s going to be a daddy’s girl when she grows up

spoils his daughter but still disciplines her when it’s necessary, but he reverts to gentle parenting when he needs to. learns how to tie hair because of her, teaches her about manners and consent and tells her he has no problem if she decides to punch a guy one day. she’s just confused lol, why would i need to do that, dad?

bless him, she got your kind disposition, but yeah he emphasises that she should stand up for herself if needed

during pregnancy, he’s also making sure you never lift a finger, running across the house to complete errands, going out to buy your cravings and regulating your diet. it’s pretty cute but nanami is sometimes really strict about what you eat because he doesn’t want your health to decline lol

“just one cup of coffee… please?”

nanami only grunts in disapproval, hoping a peck to your forehead can wake you up, ”no.”

okay but that’s a lot, i have a lot of Thoughts

now….

ii. nsfw headcanons

building on that hc earlier abt going from calling you ”his girl” to ”his wife”, he uses it so much in the bedroom you’d think it was a fetish

and you kinda understand it, there’s the jump of your heart when he introduces you as “his wife” compared to a mere girlfriend

honest to god, coming home that day and seeing you cook wasn’t the first time he’s thought of having a kid. it’s happened many times before, seeing you interact with the first-years, guiding a first-grader home after a mission

and sure he’s done it before, but you’re always on the pill and he has really really thought of getting a vasectomy, but then he thinks of how cute you’d look with a round belly, carrying his baby and that glow that he knows he’s the reason for

so the day he proposes to you, he fucks you like an animal, cumming deep in you with choked groans and fills you up.

wedding night? same thing

but what really got him going was after he told you about wanting a kid, and you begging with those eyes of yours is what drove that string to snap. “i w-want you— shit— to fuck a baby into me, kento!”

wheew and he goes insane. nanami loves it when you beg for his cum, legs locked around his body to get him to do it. you’re relentless too, spreading your folds for him as his cum seeps out slowly and soon he’s fucking his cum deep into you again, filling you up two, three, four times

and he doesn’t exactly care if that time doesn’t work because now he knows you aren’t taking contraception so he just does it regularly for good measure.

you aren’t complaining because you’ve never seen nanami so feral when he’s pushing his cum deep into you, whether it’s with his cock or with his fingers. that period before your pregnancy was so fulfilling that you wouldn’t mind pushing out another baby for your husband, if it meant getting railed by a man on a mission to make you a mommy

by god he fucks you on every surface of the house

when you’re pregnant too, you can’t help but get wet bc of your hormones and sometimes comes home from work, tired and needing some relief

he finds relief between your legs when you’re sleeping, talking about how nice it was to get used while sleeping, but you didn’t expect nanami to utilise it while you’re pregnant. you wince and groan as you sit up, but you need to see your husband lapping at your cunt immediately, moaning into your core like a starved man

but ofc nanami is a lot gentler when you’re pregnant. he offers to do the work, thrusts gentler and less impactful, but he still feels so good

a few years after marriage, sex is still an ongoing thing, but it’s converted more into love-making and lazy intercourse because you weren’t exactly young. sure you both would go crazy a few times a week but it was difficult with a maturing kid in the room next to yours.

you both would also take the time to discover other kinks!!! always busy, it was a difficult thing to do, but in between taking care of kumiko and handling lighter missions, you’d find new ways to continue keeping your love and sex life exciting

nanami liked going slow with you too though whispering into your ears endless praises of how you were doing do well, settling into missionary so he could see how his thrusts still had the same effect it did on you years ago

“doing so well, sweetheart. that’s it… my pretty wife’s such a good girl f’r me.”

nanami wasn’t against a second child, but sometimes he sees how much you go through in labour and in pregnancy that he becomes lightheaded with what could happen to you, especially with the unexpected illnesses that come with pregnancies. he told himself he would only grant you another if you ask for it

but then one day when kumiko prances up to you in the midst of her math homework, asking when she would get a little sibling and youre taken aback while nanami just chokes on his tea

yeah, sure, you taught her sex education way before her peers and how babies are made but you didn’t expect to actually ask the two of you straight up about having a sister or brother

that night, you mulled over the decision, and nanami mumbles into your neck from the back, ”don’t worry about kumiko, baby. she’ll probably forget it sooner or later.”

“but what if i want to give her one though?” you mumble, your smaller hand guiding his lower and lower…

“do you want to?” nanami only can suck in a breath when he feels your throbbing cunt, your nimble fingers showing his how you liked your clit to be rubbed. even if he knows you inside out he still lets you do it, “i do… do you, kento?”

his first name is whispered, breaking the tension and nanami has to hold himself back from handling you too roughly, loving the way you grin languidly.

oh, here comes round 2!

omg headcanons are so fun lol i never wrote 1k words so fast since they’re informal and chill

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katsukismrs · 5 months

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i wish i were heather.

platonic!katsuki bakugou x reader

a/n: if you can’t tell i’m not in the best mental state rn💀 inspired by Heather by Conan Gray. this isn’t my best piece but meh

warnings: y/n ran away from home due to abusive family, was left out a lot by friends, bakugou’s sort of the exception???

—

“You’re rich, Y/N! Literally if i were you, i’d be spending money everywhere!” Denki exclaimed in disappointment “And you don’t do anything with your money!”

“That’s called not being wise with money, Kaminari!” Ida disagreed wholeheartedly with Denki’s statement. “Y/N’s being completely reasonable with her money.”

Truth is, it isn’t that you can’t find a reason to spend your money, you donate to charity each month and take yourself and friends on shopping sprees. It’s just that the money feels.. empty. It has always been.

It was widely known that you spent the last years of your childhood and your first years of being a teenager in an orphanage, since you strongly disapproved of going back to that hell of a place your family calls home. You were 10 when you ran away from there, the day that marked your freedom.

But you can’t help but feel.. lonely.

Walking around in parks, malls, or any open space makes you see the life you can only dream of having. Children being pampered and loved by their parents can only make you feel like your skin doesn’t fit right over your bones, makes your legs eager to run somewhere far away to scream.

And unfortunately that has gotten to your UA classmates, too. Seeing Midoriya with his mother, seeing Bakugou with his parents, seeing everyone living the life you could never have. But they want to be you. It’s stupid to think about how they’ll trade a life full of security, love, support and happiness for having money and fame. but the grass on the other side is always greener, isn’t it?

There’s a side of you, that envies your classmates so much it could kill them, kill them for the life they potentially stole from you, but you know that isn’t the case and never will be.

And it isn’t with those in UA, either. But all your friends have something in common: they leave you, just like your parents did, just like everyone will.

Your friends left you for others, your best friends were never ‘forever’ as they say, and you hated that, and you hated yourself for it.

—

You sit in Katsuki’s dorm.

In silence.

With your thoughts. Disgusting, disgusting thoughts.

“I wish i were you, or anybody else.” You abruptly spoke.

“Hm?” He looked at you, perplexed. “What’d ya say?”

“i don’t want to be myself anymore.” you spoke.

“Who do you wanna be then? me?” He joked.

“I want to be anybody else but me.”

He turned to face you. “Because?”

“Everyone thinks i have it perfect because i have money.”

Katsuki stared at you, waiting for you to get to your point.

“But rectangular pieces of paper can’t love like a human can.” you spoke with a monotonous tone.

He waited for you to get to your point, staying silent.

I wish i were Jiro, who has supportive parents.

I wish i were Ochako, whom regardless of financial situation, her parents still love her anyways.

I wish i were Ida, whose brother adores him.

I wish i were Mina, who can make friends anywhere and everywhere.

I wish i were Kirishima, able to make friends stay.

I wish i were Shoto, whose father is trying to make up for the damage he caused him.

But all you can muster out is “I don’t want to be myself, i don’t want to be here as me, i want to be someone else, anybody.”

Katsuki looked at you. “You think you can have it your way every time in life, huh?” He laughed.

You looked up at him, tears threatening to fall as your throat begins tying itself into a knot.

Katsuki sighed “Listen, I’m not the type to come to for this verbal shit, but you’re pretty fuckin’ awesome as is.”

You didn’t believe him, you couldn’t believe him.

but maybe you could someday, but for now?

you wish you were Heather, or someone else who isn’t you.

—

#bnha x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader angst #platonic #bakugou x y/n #bakugo angst #bakugou katsuki #bnha angst #free

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assortedseaglass · 10 months

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Recollections - A Seamstress and the Sailor Story

Request: I was thinking very generally and vaguely about either Billy and Ida or Bess and Tom, something about how the romance started? As in... How the soft feelings and affection built up during their teenage years, the pining, the mutual comfort from one another, just spending time together every day being friendly? Just... I want the sweet teenage romance fluff ya know? The deep friendship, the love that they have for one another when we meet them and how it started. @annoying-leftist-donkey

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

Warnings: Language, one teeny smutty thought, very minor spoilers for The Seamstress and The Sailor if you haven’t read that.

Word Count: 3.9K

Southport, 1925

“We blame it on a tough week at work, or too much going on at home, but children know. They’re more connected to the earth than we are,”

Tom turned in his seat when he heard his father mention children. Next to Douglas, Marie Bennett was repacking the picnic basket.

“They can sense changes in the weather and all that,” Douglas waved to the sky beyond the bus’ dirty windows. “S’why they’re agitated today. Spring tides. The moon,”

“Alright, Papus,” Tom’s mother smiled at her husband and, with delicate touch, biffed Tom’s nose with a napkin. “Nosy,” He stuck his tongue out and turned back to face the front. Albie Vaughn, with his scabbed and spindly legs, sat next to him, busying his hands with the hair of the two girls in front of them. Lois Bennett and Cora Vaughn were ten and too old to engage with their younger siblings. That is, until they got to the beach at least. When Albie finished tying the girls’ pigtails to each other, he nudged Tom in the ribs and they laughed. From a seat across the aisle, a pair of dark eyes watched the boys.

“Bess Vaughn, what have I told you?” Etta swatted at her daughter’s legs from the seat behind her and the little girl swung her legs down, eyes still focussed on her brother and his friend.

“What?” Albie said.

“Nothing,” Bess’ voice was quiet, and Tom stared at her. There was something about Bess Vaughn that gave him the creeps. Before he could ruminate on why, the bus juddered to a stop and Fergal Vaughn jumped from his seat.

“Take the baskets down for you mothers, lads,” Fergal said, hoisting little Dot into his arms. Lois and Cora whinged as Douglas struggled to untie their hair, and Bess followed her mother and Marie towards the beach. She’d overheard Douglas, telling Marie all about the weather, and how people became agitated when it changed. He was right, too, about the spring tide. The faintest slash of silver was visible on the horizon, a barely there strip of receding sea at the edge of miles of sand. The boys instantly dumped the picnic baskets by the sand dunes and sprinted after Cora and Lois, their shrieks rising into the grey April sky. Fergal unfolded a chair and perched upon it, Dot babbling away on his knee. Beside him, Marie, Etta and Douglas lay a blanket, and when the women were seated upon the sand, Douglas made his slow way towards the water, shoes off, trousers rolled up, hands in pockets. Bess watched the boys chase her older sister and Lois, and Douglas strolling towards the horizon. She decided to follow him.

After an hour of chasing the others, Tom ran to the edge of the dunes. Cora was it, and too slow to catch either him or Albie, making do to run after Lois. He plucked an apple from the picnic blanket and blew a raspberry at Dot, making her giggle.

“Where’s dad?” Marie answered with a point at the sea. There, silhouetted against the glistening water, were two figures. One tall, stooping every now and again to point at something, the other small, collecting whatever the other passed to them. Apple in hand, Tom sprinted along the flat sand, dodged Cora’s attempt to tag him, and towards his father. Bess saw him coming before Douglas, and stood still to watch him. Her stare caught Tom off guard and he faltered, his run becoming an awkward walk. They watched each other a moment.

“What are you doing, dad?”

Douglas smiled at him then at Bess. He nodded his head at her, some sort of encouragement to speak. When she didn’t, he answered. “I’m teaching Bess about the shells and the creatures that live in them.”

Bess held out her hand to show Tom the shell in her palm. “Dog whelk,” was all she said.

“Right,” God, she’s weird. “Well, um, do you want to come and play it with the rest of us? It’s getting a bit boring with Lois and Cora, they’re rubbish.” And he’s my dad, not yours.

“No,” Bess went back to staring at the collection of shells Douglas had given her.

“Go on,”

“Leave her alone, Tom,” Douglas’ voice was soft, his eyes back to scouring the sand for treasures.

“But she never plays, I’m just trying to be nice!” He stepped forward.

“And you can’t force people to play with you,” Douglas turned a rock over in his hand. Tom huffed and grabbed Bess’ arm.

“Come on,” he dragged her towards their siblings.

“Tom-” Douglas had no time to admonish his son before Bess did it for him, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his arm. “Bess!” Tom howled, tears pricking his eyes as he lunged at the little girl. Douglas pulled his son away just in time, his hand wrapped around his son’s scrawny arm. With he other, he took Bess by the hand and marched them back up the beach. “You two can sit with your mams for the rest of the day.” Both children made to protest but he cut them off. “And if I see anymore of that behaviour, from either of you, you’ll be on the first bus home.” Behind his back, Tom and Bess scowled at each other.

St Thomas’ Secondary, 1929

The bell rang, and Bess’ heart sank. She’d spent the last hour hiding behind the bicycle rack, leant against the wooden fence that separated the secondary school from the primary. She peered through the wooden slats, and saw Dot running to class, hand in hand with her friends. Bess sighed and stood up; if she timed it just right she could wait for the others to go inside and still be on time for history. At least being V in the alphabet meant she was sat at the back of the class, and the others would forget she was there. They never usually bothered her when Cora was around, just gave her funny looks. But Cora was at home in bed with a head cold, sadly refusing Bess’ pleas to “just get up and try.”

She watched as the other children filtered through the wooden double doors, Mrs Keith ringing the bell in her hand that called them to lessons. Queenie Warren’s golden curls bounced in the afternoon sunlight, and a pang of jealousy prodded Bess’ insides. The last to go were Frank Smith and Walter Watson. Bess saw their eyes dart around the playground before disappearing behind Mrs Keith. With everyone inside, this was her chance. She ran across the playground as quickly as her little legs would take her, ready to join the queue filing into classroom six. The skirt of Queenie’s dress was just fluttering through the classroom doorway when Bess tripped, her face hitting the book she was carrying as she landed on the ground.

“Where’ve you been then?” The boy’s voice wasn’t kind, or curious. It was tight, teasing, smug.

“She’s a witch, Frank. Remember? She can make herself disappear.” Walter stood over her, one leg either side of her torso, preventing her from standing.

“Wish she would. Her and her whole Paddy family.”

“Please,” Bess’ voice quavered as she spoke, trying to push down the skirt that had ridden up in her fall.

“Been saving this for you.” Walter said, producing from his satchel a carton of milk from the canteen. “You Micks always reek of dirt and incense, what’s another bad smell?” And he poured the sour liquid over Bess’ copper hair.

She whimpered, mouth tight to avoid the rotten milk as she struggled to wipe it from her eyes. There was a dull thud as something hit the floor beside her, and whatever it was groaned. Looking tentatively sideways, Bess saw Walter Watson on his side, looking up in nervous apprehension. She followed his gaze. Frank was cowering against the wall and next to him was Tom Bennett. He said nothing, only stared down at the boy on the floor.

Bess rarely saw Tom these days, aside from the back of his head in class. He’d taken to skipping lessons, only appearing for sports or undoubtedly the few days after his dad had caught him skiving. Tom had hardened since Marie’s death, the plucky friend of her brother making way for the rebel stood above her. At just twelve, his face was already sharp, his shoulders beginning to fill out as teenagedom approached, and his piercing eyes already bore signs of that most adult emotion; weariness. His grief had not been gentle. Tom was always popular at school, but now he was intimidating.

The four children stared between each other, Tom’s eyes not once leaving Walter’s. When Frank stood forward to offer an explanation, Tom slammed him into the wall with surprising force.

“It’s ok,” Bess wobbled to her feet and brushed her damp hair from her eyes. “I’m ok.” Tom watched her a minute, before releasing Frank and glaring down at Walter.

“You so much as look at her, at any of us, I’ll put you in the Infirmary.”

Walter nodded and scrambled from the floor, Frank in his wake. They ducked into classroom six, and Bess and Tom were alone. She watched the floor, embarrassed of her milk-sodden hair and her rescue by Tom.

“I’d better, you know-” she gestured to her face.

“I’ll tell miss where you are,”

“And don’t tell the others, please.” Tom nodded and watched Bess hurry to the girls’ bathroom. He didn’t see her again until 3 o’clock, when she was leant against the school gates. Somehow, she didn’t seem as nervous as normal and Tom smiled, knowing that he might have something to do with it. Her hair was wrapped in the Miss Abbott’s, the librarian’s, scarf, and she gave a small wave to him as he approached.

“How’s your hair?” he asked, noting only the faintest whiff of dairy about her.

“Washed it in the sink, Miss Abbott said I can keep the scarf.” She beamed, though Tom knew the scarf was less of a gift, more a case of not wanted the ruined garment back. He nodded and began his walk home.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Albie?” Bess called, not moving from her sentinel at the gate.

“His got lines with Mr Hughes,” Tom called over his shoulder. Bess tutted and hurried to meet his steps, standing a step away from him than perhaps was natural. They walked together a while, Bess silent and Tom chatting to friends as they departed for their homes. It wasn’t until they rounded into their street that she found her voice.

“Thank you, for earlier.”

“S’fine.” Tom kicked a stone before laughing. “Why didn’t you bite him?”

“Pardon?” Bess stopped outside her front door.

“Walter. Why didn’t you bite him?”

“I-well-”

“You bit me when you got angry,” he smirked.

“I was eight!”

“Would have come in handy back there,”

“I don’t want to bite Walter Watson, I’ll catch something,” she gravely, wrinkling her nose. With a loud laugh, Tom waved and strolled across the street to his own home.

“See you tomorrow, Bess.”

“Yeah, bye.”

St Thomas’ Cemetery, 1933

“-thinks the sun shines out her arse, and I know you’d hate me saying that but it’s true. She can’t do any bloody wrong in his eyes.”

Tom picked up a branch of fallen yew and thwacked the foxglove looming from the ground of the next grave. He’d been coming down to visit his mother a lot recently. Bess told him about it, how when she was sad or angry, she’d come down and talk to Etta. Sometimes she and her sisters brought picnics and blankets, sat by her grave and spent an hour chatting together. He glanced across the graveyard to where Etta lay. The Vaughn’s last offerings of brandy and flowers were gathering crisp leaves. Looking at the small posey of flowers he’d stolen from other people’s gardens, he swiped the branch of yew through the long grass. Compared to the effort the Vaughn’s gave to Etta, his offering was pitiful.

“FUCK!” Again and again he thrashed the foliage, sending pollen and leaves into the evening air. When there was nothing but tombstones left to hit, Tom launched the branch across the cemetery. “FUCK!” The word tore from his throat, causing it to crack. He flung himself on the ground at the foot of his mother’s grave and wept.

Sometimes, he thought his mum and Albie were the only people that understood him, but with Albie still deep in the grief of losing Etta, Tom found he had no one to turn to. The five years anniversary of Marie’s death hit Douglas hard, and his relationship with his son had been fraught ever since. Tom thought it was his father’s timidity, Lois’ seeming perfection, Tom’s inability to commit to any one thing that caused the friction. What he didn’t realise was that each time Douglas looked at his son, he saw his wife. The same passion, same loyalty, same quick temper. Tom cried and cried, brushing angrily at his face in a feeble attempt to wipe away the traitorous tears. If she’d have been here, his mum would have made a joke about Douglas’ humour bypass and rubbed Tom’s back until he was calm. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. The grass rustled at his side and he looked up.

Bess was wading through the overgrown cemetery towards Etta, a long piece of string stretching between she and him. Attached to the string, glinting in the sunlight, she’d dropped a tin can by his knee. When Tom looked back to Bess, she was already sat at Etta’s grave, holding up her own tin can and smiling. He sniffled and held it to his ear. She said nothing, only smiled.

He watched her while she spoke to Etta and tidied her grave, replacing the flowers and dusting off the brandy bottle. She gave the gravestone a gentle kiss and walked back to Tom. He patted goodbye to his mother and met her in the centre of the cemetery, under the ancient yew. As was always her way, she stared at him before speaking, her way of assessing which step to take in conversation. Bess took in his red eyes and furrowed brow, the fidgeting that always happened when he was angry, like he was fizzing with energy.

“Was it a bad one?”

“Not really,” Tom sniffed and she watched as his lips twitched into a pout. She licked her own. “Just dad being dad, you know. Wishes I was the one gone, not mam-”

“Shut up. You know that’s not true.” Bess’ voice was harsh, a new development in her growing confidence, but one that Tom admired. He watched as she wound the string around the tin cans.

“Thanks for that,” he pointed to them.

“S’ok, wanted you to know you’re not alone. We’ve forgotten, me and the others, just because your grief has been longer, it doesn’t make it easier than ours.” Tom never knew what to say when Bess came out with her moments of profundity. She didn’t say much but when she did, God, she knew what you needed to hear. Bess Vaughn had a knack for rendering him speechless. “I got this done for you, too.” From her dress pocket she pulled a key. “So you can stop climbing through the window. Dadda’d kill you if he found you in a bedroom with his three daughters.”

Tom snorted. “What will he say if he catches me having a late-night tryst with his most reliable daughter?”

“We do not have ‘trysts’,” Bess began walking from the graveyard and Tom followed. “’Reliable’? God, how boring. Is that all I am?”

“Dependable, then? How about that?”

“I sound like a piece of furniture,”

“You’ve got the legs for it-” Tom broke off with a laugh as Bess hit his arm. “Violence in the churchyard! Don’t let Father Michael see.”

“Says the one swearing and beating up the plants,”

Longsight Labour Club, 1939

“I heard that Bess is coming back today? She could give me a break on the keys,” Connie shuffled her sheet music and watched as Cora and Dot strung bunting from the light fixtures. Owing to her nights singing at the Labour Club, Lois had secured the small hall for her birthday. A table of cream tea was at its centre, the trestle tables ready to be whipped away for an evening of dancing.

“That she is,” Cora said from atop the ladder as Dot fed her bunting. “Perfect timing for you, Lois.”

“Not just for me,” Lois stood at the bar watching her friends’ handiwork. Little did they know that the comment was not directed at them, but her brother. She winked at him and Tom raised his eyebrows. He and Albie were cleaning glasses behind the bar, laughing occasionally at their sisters as they struggled to reach the rafters.

“She’s had a good time then? At the atelier?” Connie asked them.

“God, yeah,” Dot said, lightly slapped by Cora for her language. “She’s got all these fancy clothes and rich clients. And she gives me her copies of Vogue when she’s done with them.”

Connie looked impressed. “Might have to get her to send me some too.”

“She even makes their patterns now. Promised to sew me a new summer suit.”

“If you pay for the fabric,” Cora cut in.

“Better start saving then, my girl.” Fergal had arrived with some of the older residents of the street. Over the next twenty minutes, people of all walks of life trickled into the hall. Mrs Flaherty and Mrs O’Connell, Mrs Mason and her brood of offspring. Queenie Warren who immediately ran to Albie and Tom. Even Harry Chase and some of his private school chums. Tom and Albie looked at each other pointedly as the group of young men approached the bar.

“If it’s brandy and cigars you’re after, lads, the Con Club’s your best bet. You’d be more welcome there too.” Tom muttered the last sentence under his breath and Albie laughed.

“Tom,” Harry held out a placating hand which Tom shook a little too roughly. From behind them, one of Harry’s friends whistled lowly.

“I might consider voting the other way if the reds attract that kind of woman.” The gaggle of men, Tom included, looked to the door. His mouth ran dry. The light pouring into the hall illuminated perfectly elegant cut of her dress and the sway of her hips. He could see, through the white fabric, the faintest outline of her legs and he swallowed with difficulty.

Each man jolted when a shrill cry rang out through the air. Dot was careening towards her older sister, Cora close behind. Having greeted her siblings, Bess made her way towards Lois, and Tom was absolutely cunt-struck. When she left for her apprenticeship at the atelier, Bess still hid herself from strangers. She kept her eyes averted from others. Now, she moved with graceful purpose and her eyes, though still dark, shone with self-assuredness. She knew the effect she had on the room, and Tom felt his cock twitch at the power she held.

“That’s my sister you’re staring at.”

Tom turned his head slowly towards Albie, his eyes slightly unfocussed. When his friend frowned, Tom smirked.

“Wouldn’t you love me as a brother? Anyway, she could do worse,”

“She could do a lot better and all,” Albie gave him a warning look and turned back to the bar. When Tom looked back across the crowd, momentary terror washed over him. Bess, in all her white-clad and gorgeous glory, was heading towards him. Suddenly he felt underdressed in his shirt and threadbare jacket.

“Hi,” What sort of wet fucking hello was that?

“A glass of white please, barkeep.” Bess smiled at him as she leant against the wooden bar. Behind her, Harry’s friends were agog that she was speaking to him. Confidence bloomed in his chest and Tom stood a little straighter.

“Anything else the lady wishes?” Tom reached overhead for a wine glass, not missing the way Bess’ eyes watched the muscles of his arm.

“You working the bar all night?”

“Depends if my sister lets me off. Perhaps the birthday mood might strike her right.” He poured the wine, still feeling Bess’ eyes on him. If she had become a woman during her time in central Manchester, Tom had become a man. His shoulders were tight in the jacket he wore, its collar open just enough for Bess to see the muscles of his strong neck. She traced it upwards with her eyes. The underside of his jaw was sharp, his pink lips casting a small shadow on his sharp chin. His brow furrowed as he poured her drink, and Bess wanted nothing more than to lean across the bar and kiss the small wrinkle that had formed there.

“I hope so,” she sipped her wine and licked her lips. “We have so much to catch up on.” With a smile and nod to the other young men, Bess strolled towards the table of cream tea, perched next to her siblings and engaged in conversation with the older women, each eager to know about her time at the fashion house. When she looked up to see Tom watching still her, her dark eyes flashed with mischief, and she winked. In his pocket, Tom’s hand thumbed the key to the Vaughn’s house.

“Fuck me,”

Notes: I said I’d wait until Borne & Bound was out there, but my head ran away with me. I’m splitting the request into two so there will be a Billy and Ida follow up.

Each little scene was referenced somewhere in the plot of TSATS, and I enjoyed fleshing them out to show why they were so meaningful to Tom and Bess! Papus, mentioned by Tom’s mum, was a famous mystic. Royal Infirmary was a hospital and asylum in Manchester.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @ewanmitchellcrumbs @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #ewan mitchell x reader #tom bennett x ofc #the seamstress & the sailor

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dollsonmain · 7 months

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For people that missed it (@giraffeseatingcake), because it's on my mind again, the Tina Dollyhair thing to the best of my ability to remember which we all know is not great and of course I didn't keep links to everything. I could probably find them again but you know, I don't want to. Google it yourself.

I don't know why I started looking into it again. Maybe someone mentioned Tina's supposed death somewhere, or maybe someone mentioned Ida taking over and it got me curious. I don't remember.

Anyway, we never found a public death notice or obit for Tina and that makes sense since obits aren't posted unless a family member pays for one to be printed. I didn't know that before.

What I did find was mention of Heidi with a different last name. IIRC it was through public records, I started noticing clusters of names that were showing up together often across different public record aggregation websites. Tina Amuntula/Kristina Amuntulla/Kristina Miller, Heidi Amuntulla/Heidi with a different name, and Steve Amuntula/Amuntullah who also has a different first name but I've forgotten it. He goes by Steve publicly in the US.

There was also some sort of hint that Heidi was in television or the movies in some capacity which made me wonder if there was an IMDB profile for her. There was! Then I looked her up on wiki and found that Heidi OTHERNAME was also named Heidi Amuntullah.

Also checking the ownership history of DollyHair showed that Steve's other name was registered as owner for some time.

Going around and around in circles with public residential and business records put the whole family together.

That was the first time I'd had anything even close to proof that Tina's Sister Heidi actually existed.

How this led to finding out that Tina apparently really did die is that searching about Heidi and Steve Amuntullah brought up a series of documents about a court case brought against the two of them by Melanie Chan.

I did keep a link to one of the documents but not everything else tying this document to Tina Dollyhair because of course.

Anyway, it's here:

In that document it says:

The FAC alleges that Plaintiff’s landlord, Kristina Miller, passed away in August 2020. (FAC ;41.) Defendants being decedent landlord’s father and sister are inferred to be heirs or successors-in-interest to decedent landlord.

Melanie Chan was suing the Amuntullas for wrongful eviction after Tina died, saying they didn't give her enough warning to be able to find another place to live before changing the locks on her. Heidi and Steve took ownership of Tina's house and wanted to sell it. It's recorded either in this document or some of the others that Tina was letting Melanie live in her upstairs for rent without any sort of official lease.

That's basically it.

Tina really died in 2020 (not any of those other times she said she died before), Heidi does exist and both Heidi (Tina's sister) and Steve (their father) took ownership of Tina's house, kicked out her unofficial renter, got sued for it, won the lawsuit, and sold the property.

As for Ida claiming to not know the family or not knowing any of the drama behind the DollyHair shop, she's mentioned in that document, too.

Plaintiff’s reliance upon the allegations regarding “Ida,” an employee of Heidi, is uncertain to allege a trespass in that it is only alleged that Ida entered the “house” and not specifically her “upstairs guest apartment.”

It could be a different Ida.

She could have somehow not known, I guess. It's possible she worked for Heidi without knowing anything about Tina or DollyHair and Heidi was like "Hey, you want this business because I don't...."

So, it's possible.

Either way, I do hope DollyHair as a company can build a new, better reputation with good customer service and not shorting people on their hair orders, now. They do have some hair colors that aren't available elsewhere and DollyHair has the widest selection of fibers as far as I know.

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shadowglens · 1 year

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glance + formal + change for ida 💕💕

oc asks: character design edition

glance: at first glance, what stands out most about your oc's appearance? what's their distinguishing feature?

ida's hair, definitely. she has very curly blonde hair that she almost always leaves out, and when it's long it turns into a sort of mane. she also tends to favour more pastel colours in her clothing, which stands out a lot too.

formal: what's your oc's formal look? do they like dressing up? do they have different looks for different occasions?

ida isn't a big fan of dressing up, but she does have a few nice dresses set aside for emergencies. she likes strappy dresses with lace detailing around the straps, maybe some floral details. something tight around the waist/chest, but free flowing around the legs. she'll probably still wear her boots or denim jacket lol.

change: has your oc ever drastically changed their appearance? significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? why? how do they feel about the change?

as a teeanger she favoured a grunge aesthetic a lot more, with lots of distressed denim and torn fishnets and band tees. she also straightened the heck out of her hair when she was younger. for anyone who hasn't seen her since then, she looks Very different, which is just how ida likes it. she'll probably get a dramatic haircut at some point when a big trauma happens but i haven't decided yet.

#oc tag #aragorngf #ch: ida greene #ty ty jasmine xx #i'm generally feeling iffy about t/w/c lately but i will always love miss ida

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