Tonner Angst 🥺👉👈
short story under the cut (if it fucking works that is)
"Seymour! Wait!" He handed a bloodied item to Legs and ran up the stairs after Skinner, managing to grab his arm once he reached the main bar area. He crushed the smaller man against himself gently but with no intention of letting go. Skinner eventually lost steam and sobbed in his shoulder, clutching at his shirt.
"Why...why did you make watch that?" he all but screamed into Tony's shoulder. He lifted his face and shot a piercing look into his eyes. "You said it'd be a 'little chat,'" Skinner went on, his breaths becoming faster and more shallow, punctuated by irregular hiccups.
Tony's eyes were misty and he gave Skinner a miserable look, stroking his shoulder. "I thought you know what that meant by now...but...but you're right, Seymour," he tried to explain while holding Skinner by the shoulders. "That was too much...you shouldn't have seen that."
"The beating I can understand," Skinner said with tears flowing freely. "But what you did with that ice pick...my god..." He gripped Tony's shoulder hard enough to hurt him, and was shaking uncontrollably, hardly able to talk.
Tony hugged him tightly and for a moment their tears flowed together. "I'm so sorry, counselor," he whispered. "Come, let's have a seat. We have to calm you down."
They slipped into a booth and without having to look away from Skinner, Tony snapped his fingers. Within moments Frankie was by their side with a filled shot glass.
"No, I don't want that!"
But Tony insisted, "Drink it, Seymour. Please, you need it."
Skinner snatched the tiny glass with a glower and threw it back and retched. Tony nodded to Frankie, who came back with a bottle and another glass. He stroked Skinner's back and hair while his upper body twitched, but less and less as the hiccups passed. He made himself breathe deeply, and mechanically drank the next shot that was given to him, making a face afterwards. He slumped against Tony.
"Why did you have to be so cruel?" he asked in a defeated whisper.
"I swear I didn't know it would upset you so much..."
"No," Skinner interrupted, giving him a hard look, before pressing his head against his shoulder. "I meant to him. You didn't even get any answers out of him. You should have killed him hours ago."
Tony whispered the man's sins, and Skinner tightened up, pausing in horror before scrambling out of the booth. Tony got up in concern while Skinner threw up into an ice bucket. While Skinner knelt on the floor and emptied what little was in his stomach, Tony stood over him and pulled out a cigar. He sighed, just looking down on him for a moment, and lit it. "Now do you understand?"
Skinner didn't answer.
Tony crouched down and offered a hand. Skinner sniffed, looked at it a moment, then took it. Tony pulled him into a gentle embrace, careful to keep the cherry far from Skinner's body. He pressed a kiss into Skinner's cheek and then started leading him out of the club. "Get Legs," Tony ordered Frankie. Then to Skinner he said, "Let's get you home."
Skinner stopped. "No...I can't...I can't be alone tonight, Tony."
"Your mother is waiting for you..."
"I can't face her right now...I can't handle another fight."
Tony kissed his forehead. "Give me your phone, I'll talk to her. Meanwhile, go ahead and get in the car; I'll be right there."
"Yes, Sir." Skinner gave him the phone and went out with Frankie and Legs, who was wiping blood off his face with a bar rag.
Frankie sat with Skinner while they waited for Tony, stroking his back. He went back in the club to help clean up the mess in the basement when Tony got in the car. Like magnets the acting don and his acting counselor sat glued together, Skinner partly in his lap, and they rode in silence for a while.
"Do you think less of me for this?" Tony finally asked in a small voice.
Skinner pulled away to look at him. He wiped tears from Tony's cheek and sighed. "I don't know what to think. But I still love you, if that's what you're worried about."
"You are such a sensitive man," Tony said. "I fear for you...what you saw tonight is so commonplace. I will try to shield you as much as I can from the worst of things, but Seymour...I'm afraid I can't protect you from it all."
Skinner sniffed and wiped his own eyes. "No, you shouldn't have to. I...I need to be stronger."
"You are already so strong," Tony whispered back, gently pulling Skinner's face closer. He kissed him softly.
He walked Skinner inside the mansion once they arrived, with his arm around his back. Legs took the car back to the club to begin a long night of dismemberment and suit-case stuffing. Little Michael watched the two walk upstairs, with an unsympathetic look, ignoring Skinner's friendly wave before turning away.
"Help yourself to some refreshments, dear," Tony said when they got to his bedroom, indicating a mini fridge. While Skinner grabbed some water, Tony rifled through his dresser to pull out two sets of pajamas. Offering one to Skinner, he said, "I hope these aren't too big...I'll just be in there." He changed in his walk-in closet while Skinner slipped into the roomy night clothes.
When he got into the bed Skinner sank against him, wrapping an arm over his chest. Tony turned on the TV and they relaxed with some home shopping network; Tony occasionally making comments about the jewelry. A few got a weak laugh out of Skinner.
"Don't let me sleep in," Skinner yawned after a while, snuggling against him.
"You aren't seriously going in to work tomorrow, after this?" Tony asked.
Skinner balked, "Well...why not? It's Friday tomorrow, I have to e there to make up for everyone else's slacking...we've got a very important assembly..."
Tony laughed gently. "Tesoro mio...alright, I understand, Seymour. But please, at least take a half day, I'm imploring you."
"A half day...? Well, I...I suppose...I don't know..."
Tony stroked Skinner's hair. "I can talk to your boss for you."
Skinner vehemently shook his head. "I don't think that would help, he doesn't know who you are."
Tony raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Well, find an excuse to get off early, please. You've earned it."
Skinner sighed and wrapped a leg around him. "Fine...I'll try."
Tony kissed him. He stayed up a while after Skinner fell asleep, petting his hair, brushing his lips against his brow, but mostly thinking very deeply. When Skinner squirmed and groaned with a nightmare, Tony held him. He finally fell asleep imagining the extravagant dinner he wanted to treat Skinner to.
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Hi everyone need a little help spreading some light onto my campaign. I’ve decided to put me first and with that i decided to escape my abusive relationship with not only my mother whose been doing this for years but also physical abuse from my ex. here’s my GoFundMe campaign explaining what’s been going on [https://gofund.me/f3d3d21a ] . thanks to the help of a few friends I was able to raise enough to have my dogs and some of my belongs transported. they are scheduled to be picked up this coming tuesday.
unfortunately that leaves me with no money and since I need to fly to my next location so that i’m able to meet them there and receive my dogs and things I’m $350 short on a plane ticket. anything helps doesn’t matter how small. I want to purchase a ticket by tomorrow before the prices go up. Please help by donating if you can’t donate I understand please just share to as many people as you can. thank you. I know some hate donating to GoFundMe not a problem i have other money transferring apps since GoFundMe takes long itself to deposit into my account.
Cash App: $NadineKori
Zelle, Chime and Apple Pay is available too just DM me for my number.
Thank you again so much and thank you in advance for any and all donation.
Feeling so kill John Winchester
me: every character can be criticised. not one of them is perfect, and that's how it should be. that's what makes them a person -- they have flaws.
someone: *begins an analysis of c!quackity with well-constructed criticism*
me, grabbing them by the throat and slamming them against the wall, internally agreeing with everything they're saying: how dare you
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Okay well i'm heading into work for the day! But I will be lurking for plotting & shenanigans on discord. I am feeling soft today.
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Spousal Bullying (Domestic Abuse)
Spousal Bullying (Domestic Abuse)
One of my readers suggested that I do a piece on spousal bullying, and I apologize for the length of this post. Because there’s much to cover on this subject, I did my best to cover everything as concisely as possible.
Whether you call it domestic abuse or spousal abuse, it is still a form of bullying, only the bullying takes place in the home against a significant other. The reason this is a…
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“no one on this website can be trusted to eat the rich, because they can’t even be trusted to identify the rich!”
I’m gonna fucking rip your throat out.
some of yalls alpha isnt as hubby wubby snuggly wuggly cuddle wuddle kissy wissy mwah mwah daddy waddy as mine and it shows
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Please share this.
Autistic people are tortured & pushed to suicide every day, & this type of "therapy" is so normalized that it's recommended to parents the moment their children are formally diagnosed as Autistic.
IT IS CONVERSION THERAPY. ABA & conversion therapy were invented by the same people.
Supporters of human rights & justice seem to know full well that conversion therapy is actual torture. But the horrific abuse of Autistic people is never even talked about, & it's so normalized that only Autistic people know the truth & everyone else actively silences us.
We're not even considered a marginalized group by most, because of the horrifying volume of misinformation by those who have far more power than us.
The world needs to know. Or we'll never stop being doomed. The suicide rates of Autistic people will never go down. We'll never find the peace & joy that's robbed from us the moment we're perceived.
[ A.I.M- Autistic Inclusive Meets (@AIMautistic) posted to Twitter:
We are often asked "But does ABA 'work'?
Oh it works, it smashes your autistic childs esteem & moulds them to mimic neurotypical behaviour whilst in constant fight or flight.
PTSD for life & no awareness of rights or autonomy, susceptible to grooming.
Is that what you want?
posted 6:58 AM, 6/19/21 ]
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One of my favourite social spaces…
Okay, I am a library nerd.
I am anticipating great things.
For now, 10 times the people and the space will be a welcome start.
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It hurt in a way that well exceeded the physical pain, though that too was an ever-mounting presence that he couldn't quite ignore. He felt a warm wetness seeping through the sleeve of his tunic and dripping down his arm by the time he collapsed in front of the stream, choking on his own shaky sobs.
It was bad, this time.
Which wasn't to say it wasn't always bad. For a practiced martial artist, his father showed little restraint in many stretches of his life, particularly in regards to matters involving his only child. It was something the boy had at one time pointed out to him; and got a back hand to the face as a response. But he'd never taken a real weapon to him before; only fists and reeds.
As carefully as he could with trembling hands and blurry eyes, the boy peeled back his sodden sleeve to try and assess the damage. It was always his left arm, now; father had made a ritual of his discipline that had thusly left the limb a chaotic mess of overlapping lashes, healed, reopened, healed again, and often until they bled. The bladed switch had been used with every intention of leaving him permanently marked; something to remind him of his failures and disgracefulness when the bruises on his ribs and limbs faded.
And it would remind him. Four perfectly spaced lines that gaped violently on skin they painted red, each hooked at the top where the barbed tips of the weapon had snagged in and pulled. They were still bleeding, and deeper than any wound he'd received in the past, but he knew well enough from his studies that no major blood vessels had burst. He'd have to try and stitch them up later perhaps, but right now wasn’t the time for that. He was much more concerned with trying to preserve the silken fabrics that his blood had left stained, as they were, after all, one of the only only remnants of his personal expression that he had left. Father had made certain of this, too. Creativity and the arts, they were not a luxury he’d been allotted. They were a distraction, and a distraction he’d been told time and time again that he hadn’t the time nor talent to pursue. It was best he focus on bettering himself in other ways, the ways he wanted.
He hated that man. He hated his stupid school, he hated that he was expected to follow in his footsteps, he hated all of his other students who so effortlessly surpassed him. He hated the other schools that left them financially drained, he hated the little izakaya down the way that happily took what little they did make so father could drown away any remnants of pleasantness he had left in him in a nightly wash of liquor. He hated the barkeep and he hated the other patrons, he hated that no matter what he did he could never find a place to hide his treasures(and himself) from his father’s frigid scrutiny, he hated his rules and he hated that no amount of discipline could ever erase his drive for something more. He’d tried his best to do what he was told. He hated himself more than anything else.
Stripping off the elegantly stitched florals as best he could without further ruining them, his knees slid in the mud to get closer to the edge of the stream and dip the fabric into it’s cool waters. He scrubbed and scrubbed at the splotched red in his sleeve until some of the stitching started to fray, but even then he could still see a tint of cherry blossom pink where his blood had sunk in, much more vibrant to his own eyes than it was to most. It was difficult to admit defeat, but it was something he would have to do eventually. His flesh still bled, and that in itself did more ill than good in the way of trying to clean the offending fluid from his tunic. He’d only caught sight of the stranger from the corner of his eye when he’d finally given up on saving the fanciful costume, sinking back against the bank with the garment clutched to him protectively to preserve some sort of modesty, even in his distress.
“GoawaypleasegoawaypleasegoawaypleasegoawayPLEASE.” the boy screamed.
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Chapter 4 for anyone who's interested :)
In the race for the title of Most Annoying Fans in baseball, there are many contenders but at the moment, the Mets and the Dodgers fans seem to be neck and neck in the race
Posting my TRIGGERS! (Keep in mind I haven't found all of them, and some will go away)
Rape, or mentions of doing it, I hate you if you say you like the idea of it or are victimizing the rapist.
Loud ear-piercing noises.
yelling (specifically at me).
any form of threatening to harm me.
Crossing busy highway
I got hit by a vehicle twice. One was a sideswipe to the right leg, and the other got hit by a motorcycle backing away from a barking dog
Just the thought of falling from a dangerous area or somewhere unstable where I can fall at any time horrifies me
skin peeling (I shivered thinking of it)
Excessive amounts of blood, like massacre amounts of blood.
Clowns (Especially the creepy ones)
getting stuck in a dark area, with no way out.
Big scary dogs with loud barks
Those are just some, and I may add more if I remember any that I've forgotten.
Seeing Through Your Soulmate AU: Where when you sleep, you see the world from your soulmate’s eyes. But personal and important information (Address, phone #, their face) is blurred out in the dream.
Maddie and Chimney see the most important moments of their life.
The first time Chimney remembers seeing his soulmate’s perspective is when he’s eleven, and he’s taken to a place that is quiet and comfortable and safe, in a two-story house that looks like a good family lives in it, filled with toys in cupboards and around the house, and family photographs on the wall. The faces are blurred, and those are the rules of the world. You can’t learn your soulmate’s details through your dreams, you can’t know who they are until you meet them, until the dreams stop because they are finally there right beside you. That’s what keeps it exciting, and he hears the wistfulness in his mother’s voice all the time, when she talks about what her soulmate is seeing and how exciting their life must be, travelling from place to place, and he wants to ask her why she married his father, a cold and distant and unloving man. Is he that cold because he knows he doesn’t have a soulmate and his mother does? He knows what she would say though, that if she hadn’t married his father, then she wouldn’t have him, and she can’t imagine her world without him.
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ਦੀਪ ਸਿੱਧੂ ਸਣੇ ਹੋਰ ਮੁਲਜ਼ਮਾਂ ਨੂੰ 29 ਜੂਨ ਨੂੰ ਕੋਰਟ ਅੱਗੇ ਹੋਣਾ ਪਵੇਗਾ ਪੇਸ਼
ਲਾਲ ਕਿਲ੍ਹਾ ਹਿੰਸਾ ਮਾਮਲੇ ‘ਚ ਚਾਰਜਸ਼ੀਟ ‘ਤੇ ਕੋਰਟ ਨੇ ਲਿਆ ਨੋਟਿਸ, ਦੀਪ ਸਿੱਧੂ ਸਣੇ ਹੋਰ ਮੁਲਜ਼ਮਾਂ ਨੂੰ 29 ਜੂਨ ਨੂੰ ਹੋਣਾ ਪਵੇਗਾ ਪੇਸ਼
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Hi, I was wondering if you could Headcanon how Luca and Andrew would react to reader having a breakdown because of an unhealthy relationship with a parent ?
a/n: this is a difficult one for me given the fact that I struggle with having a connection to my own parents/family in general due to my autism as well as other mental health issues causing for separation and arguing, so this will be a little more personal than my other headcanons. Please be advised, as there will be content warnings before each one and above the cut.
If I've missed any warnings I should list, please let me know via dms or comments
A reader breaking down due to having an unhealthy/abusive relationship with their parents
tws: mentions of being trapped/isolated in a closet , mentions of past neglect (unsanitary, starvation) , mentions of gaslighting , gaslighting (reader repeats things they've been told) , mentions of weight loss (in a negative way) , violence (shovel to face) , blood
Luca Balsa || Prisoner
tws: mentions of being trapped/isolated in a closet, mentions of past neglect (unsanitary, starvation) , mentions of gaslighting
Luca could feel the rustling of the bedsheets even in his sleep, and he knew straight away what was happening even before he was fully awake. It was like a cycle now, especially since his body began to wake itself up during or even before this began to happen on most nights.
He knew that you couldn't help it, he knew that you struggled forgetting about what drove you to the manor like the others did, and gently turning on the bedside lamp to the bed the two of your shared he already was able to see the tears streaming down your still asleep face. Brushing the tears from your cheeks for a moment, Luca gently pressed against your shoulders, beginning to gently shake you. "Hey, (y/n), wake up." He didn't like being loud during the night, especially when you didn't exactly know who would be fighting the next day, but he needed to be just loud enough to stir you. "Come on, it's a dream, you're here, with me." Watching as your eyes cracked open, blinking away both tears and sleep, the electrifying man sighed.
"I'm... not there..."
"You're not there. You're with me." He could see your body shake, still stuck within that dark closet, soiled, left to be so hungry you would pass out, and then told that you were making a big deal of nothing by the people that were meant to care about you, and that you loved so dearly even still. Luca knew all of it, he knew that you were still stuck in that time.
And yet you began to sob, pulling the prisoner down on top of you as you cried. "They locked me in there for being in a relationship with you-," he was able to make out, "they hurt you, they came and hurt everyone and-." Your sobs continued to break your sentences as you tried to explain to him the night terror that you had experienced. The way you explained it, how the ghosts of the past told you that they had hurt everyone in your dreams because they love you.
Luca just wished that, like him, you could forget, but yet, it was a long road ahead of you, and he planned on being there every step of the way.
Andrew Kreiss || Gravekeeper
tws: gaslighting (reader repeats things they've been told), mentions of weight loss (in a negative way), violence (shovel to face), blood
"You never listen to me!" Andrew flinched as Freddy basically screamed in his ear, trying to keep the veteran away from him at arms length, "you and your fat fucking partner never fucking listen! I told you two that it wasn't a good idea to kite in the same area, but ooooh, I can't run too far because I eat too much cake!" Andrew hated the fact that Freddy was basically insulting the idea of what you two did, but it had made a tie, it had allowed for Freddy and Patricia to escape while the two of you were left behind.
And yet, Andrew could also feel your hands begin to shake as they gripped to the back of his coat.
"Maybe if the bitch lost weight, they would-" Andrew had enough. Andrew had enough, and watching as Freddy fell down spitting out blood on the way, Andrew's shovel suddenly felt way to heavy in his hand. "The fuck-" Andrew hit him again, this time, he made sure that Freddy was out cold. And then his own blood ran cold.
"you'd be prettier if you were skinnier..." Freddy had set you off, remembering how you had mentioned the way your parents treated you, Andrew dropped the shovel and turned around to face you, gripping your hands in his as he attempted to ground you. "People don't want a fatty... Eating this will help you lose weight"
"Hey, hey, look at me." Andrew tried calling out to you, seeing how unfocused your eyes were as they dashed around whatever you could look at. Andrew knew what it was like to be in the midst of a breakdown due to his own trauma, but it killed him inside that the only thing he could do was be there, call out to you, though looking over his shoulder at the unconscious and bleeding Freddy, he knew he had to get you out of there. "Why don't we go to the library, read something you like?"
The gentle nod from you, as well as the quietening of your muttering gave Andrew enough indication he needs that it was safe to lead you away.
It didn't stop him from wrapping his coat around you though. Maybe if he did the same things you did for him, it would help you.
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I'm not atsumu slander i swear
But look at his stupid face i wanna choke him
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