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#welcome to the 1900s!
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Day 1900
THE 20TH CENTURY RAHHHHHHHH
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javertisgay · 2 months
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if I ever manage to own a house or flat the first thing i’m doing is making the bathroom polar disaster themed. like how people have beach/ocean themed bathrooms. but I’m hanging up ‘man proposes, god disposes’, the goodsir daguerreotype is gonna be there like a family portrait, i’m painting it the iciest colour blue possible and breaking the heating so it’s always cold as hell. every winter i’ll get to roleplay being sir john stuck down the ice hole
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1unpunishable1 · 5 months
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Dream Kitchen
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jinxed-sinner · 9 days
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Alright here's my full (possibly hot) take on redesigning Hazbin Hotel characters and making a video showcasing those redesigns while you criticize the official designs.
First and foremost, you are redesigning someone else's OCs. Hazbin Hotel is, in essence, a passion project for Viv. How she talks about it makes that incredibly clear to me. The only difference between Hazbin Hotel and, for example, the story I'm developing surrounding some of my D&D OCs is that Hazbin Hotel got picked up by a streaming service and is significantly more popular than most passsion projects get.
Personally if someone wanted to redesign my D&D OCs, I wouldn't mind it, in fact I'd probably think it was really cool that someone would want to redesign one of my OCs to be closer to their tastes in terms of what they like to draw. I would, however, be made incredibly uncomfortable if someone made a video redesigning them where they also pointed out everything they thought was wrong with the designs. I didn't design these specific D&D characters to be 1-to-1 accurate to their classes in D&D or to look professionally designed. I designed them how I wanted them to look for the story I'm telling because I don't plan to ever play them in a campaign. The main character Avlan is a paladin, and I can acknowledge that his design might not look exactly like a paladin. One of the tabaxi in the story (Ice) is a bard and the other (Spark) is a ranger, and I acknowledge that their classes might not come across well in their designs. The single tiefling I've designed for this story (Tragedy) is a cleric but might not come off as one in their design. But I specifically designed them to be easy for me to draw because I want to be able to tell this story through my art. Having someone say "oh, Avlan's armor isn't paladin enough!" or "Avlan's fur colors and patterns should be closer to a wild rabbit's because harengon shouldn't be based on domestic rabbit colors!" would fucking hurt (especially because I'm so attached to Avlan, but it would hurt just as much if similar comments were made about Ice, Spark, or Tragedy). I am so passionate about these characters and being told their designs are bad or wrong in some way would be like a stab in the heart, and it would still feel like a stab in the heart if this story ever got a massive fandom behind it. Giving Avlan more complex armor because you think it'd look cool or just want to see what it'd look like? Sure, if I could draw more complex armor I'd give him more complex armor too. Giving him more complex armor but also shitting on the armor I decide to draw him with? My motivation to draw him in his armor, potentially draw him period, would be dead for WEEKS.
Why is it suddenly okay just because someone's passion project was picked up by Amazon Prime? Why is it suddenly okay to be "fixing" someone's character designs just because the project has a much bigger budget than most artists get and is on a popular streaming service? It's not. I don't care if you're a professional character designer, or think a specific character would look better with certain traits, or just don't like the character designs.
Hazbin Hotel is still Vivienne Medrano's passion project, and redesigning her characters and making videos talking about everything you think is "wrong" with them is, honestly, disgusting. You can make videos explaining your choices in your redesigns without putting down the designs that already exist, whether you like them or not. Me thinking Lucifer looks better with his tail not restricted to his full demon form doesn't suddenly mean I don't like his official design, because I fucking love it. If you wouldn't do it to an artist whose passion project is just a webcomic here on Tumblr, don't fucking do it to an artist whose passion project got picked up for a cartoon by a big streaming service (or any company for that matter).
#hazbin hotel#vent#kinda#i just think it's a weird double standard#'yeah don't fix people's art! unless theyre working on a project that was picked up by a big company then it's fine to fix their art'#like???#why is that a mentality that exists?? they're still viv's characters#and you can still redesign them without shitting on the official designs#pretty much all of my redesign notes for hazbin hotel are 'how can i make this character easier and more fun for me to draw'#because i specialize in furry art. i don't usually draw humanoids lol#so giving vox some shark traits for example or making adam more birdlike would make them more fun for me to draw#why can't we redesign them based on that without saying 'i think it's weird that this decision was made for this character's design'#they're still viv's characters. they're still her designs. stop pointing out everything you think is wrong with them for fucks sake#we don't need to talk about hazbin's character designs. we don't need to 'fix' them#just say they aren't for you and move on. there's literally nothing inherently wrong with them#i also feel like not enough people actually do research into the historical contexts of some characters#and i think it'd be really fuckin cool to see people redesign characters more based on headcanons based on that than anything#look into how the mafia operated in new york in the early/mid 1900s for angel. look into radio hosts in the 1920s for alastor.#look into las vegas culture during husk's lifetime for husk. look into the culture surrounding tv hosts in the 1950s for vox.#LOOK INTO THE CULTURE OF THE ELIZABETHAN ERA FOR ZESTIAL.#(i just presented zestial ideas to anyone who wants them on a silver platter. you're welcome)#(also new headcanon that zestial was friends with shakespeare in life because why the fuck not)#(when the tags get wildly out of hand)
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wamtorical · 8 months
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New years eve 1899 / 1900
Though the death of Ethel scarred Elmer and Claudia, December marked the 10 year anniversary of their wedding and they danced the night away in bliss as the children slept peacefully.
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New years was the one occasion Jemima, Amos and Leroy were allowed to stay up, but as soon as the clock struck 12 they were ushered to go to sleep and celebrate the next day.
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Over at the forgotten homestead, Charlotte and Diana celebrated the entire night - or morning - and they too slept like babies throughout the January afternoon.
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Claudia reflected on the past decade. The 1890's changed both herself and Elmers lives, and while there were the natural bumps along the way, it all ended up being for the better. Still, she couldn't help but feel slightly worried for the 1900's - after all, it was a new century.
Current year: 1900
📜 next / previous / first
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justatiredwr1t3r · 1 year
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Tw! Scopophobia!
I wonder who it is
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smiledotdeer · 2 years
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[ Alastor’s sharing a video!
It’s very short (less than a minute long) and consists of watching Cujo from a head on perspective as he lays awake on the couch, presumably next to his owner.
This happens for about ten seconds...then, his hind leg lifts, as if about to scratch at his ear. It stops when the St. Bernard bares his teeth and growls, his big brown eyes darting sideways towards the leg.
He’s growling at his leg for trying to scratch at himself.
It happens more than once, too. Until the video ends, the dog keeps putting his leg back down, then lifting it back up...only to growl at it and put it back down all over again. It happens a total of three more times, and as it continues the sound of Alastor snickering, then outright giggling is heard at a close range.
The last thing that’s heard before it cuts is Alastor speaking in a highly amused voice. ] “You’re a goofus.”
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shitpostingsystem · 1 month
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shows from the 1970’s >>>>>>
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uniquezombiedestiny · 3 months
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hastily scrawled warning note?
hastily scrawled warning note: if you could go back and change one decision you made in the game, what would it be?
oh man. oh man
(spoilers for the blind pianists story below)
thats tough........ i immediately think of the comtessa and blind pianist... i wish i couldve solved the conflict so bad or at least let elise live, but mae never shared her secrets at all. elise literally had the carmen charm on mae and me. i miss her so bad
also on the comtessa... the choice i made. it hurts me so bad. but i wouldnt change it o7
it is a bit meta to go back and change the pianist storyline, since i only knew this after i did it, but. i feasibly could have a way for mae to betray (then reconcile) them so the pianist doesnt die. and that haunts me
otherwise, hm. honestly tough to think of anything id change yet, other than where angels scar comes from (a facial scar from her dueling in the fighting rings). i can easily retcon it though so yknow (item exists but eh. its not much lol)
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pynkhues · 2 years
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Thoughts on Colleen Hoover?
Honestly, I actually don't know that much about her. I've heard of her books and her success, and heard about how she got famous on TikTok, but haven't read any of her stuff. What are your thoughts on her, anon?
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bunicate · 7 months
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i neeeeedddd more wrio <///3 i don’t wanna wait so so long for him to come out <///3 and i wanna read more filthy filthy smuts and suuuper long angsty smutty fics :((( i need him in a way that would get me lobotomized in the 1900’s </3
dnt u hate how genshin is just stringing us along and taking 4ever to give us more wrio stuff ! ! I want him in a very gross way nd I dunno if this little fic is at all filthy, but i wrote smthn while I was having my breakfast earlier ^_^ I also probably misspelled his name so many times bc my grammar check wasn’t working nd i got lazy ! but just know nonnie, ur icky thoughts are welcomed here !
pairing ꒱ྀི wriothesley x fem reader — warnings ꒱ he calls you little girl once ! ! + slight exhibitionism + finger sucking + size kink + blowjob mention / wc ꒱ 1.3k / 18+
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you’d like to say that you were good at being discreet. it’s not that you’re intentionally trying to be, but when faced with several trials and tribulations, you believed the gods themselves were testing you.
after all this time, you thought you were inured to wriothesley’s effortless charm. it bothers you that he doesn’t even try— that your boyfriend with broad shoulders, a big chest, and big hands could stand there, and you were already thinking of all the sloppy, messy ways you could end your night.
you spend far too much time staring at veiny thick fingers that dwarf your tinier ones. especially when he holds your pink phone, hello kitty, and heart-shaped charms and all, and his big thumbs end up pressing a button he never meant to. how such a simple and mindless mistake makes you wonder about putting his big fingers somewhere else.
It was a newfound desperation you didn’t know you had in you and it just didn’t stop there. it’s the casual dominance in his behavior that makes butterflies erupt, fluttering their delicate wings in your belly.
when the brown sugar you needed to make a fresh batch of cookies rested on the tippiest top of the shelf you were irked to say the least.
it sat there mocking you because it knows you can’t reach it, and it’s none other than wrio himself who barely extends his hand above his head that brings it down with ease.
and then you see it.
it’s only a slither of skin, only a thick patch of untamed hair leading to his groin.
that’s all it is and that’s all you saw and yet you feel . . . bothered
“i didn’t need your help,” you mutter while pouring the contents into a pink porcelain bowl, careful not to make a mess.
you got snappy because of all things, it’s his height and taut stomach that make you flustered. you cut your eyes and upturn your nose busying yourself with the mixing and measuring, but wriothesley is no fool. your attempt to appear unfazed — not aroused was meaningless. he didn’t bother to question the veracity of you words when the soft cotton flush of embarrassment coats your cheeks like a paintbrush and he was the painter.
he excites you.
you know it and he knows it.
“sure you don’t.”
he’s smug and you don’t like it. you hate it, even. why is he always quick and sharp-tongued, and so astute?
it was one of your earlier dates together. things were still new and you wanted to make a bit more effort and maybe you went slightly overboard. you cursed yourself for wearing heels that day. they were a tad bit too high— but they were pink, and glittery, and a butterfly charm dangled by the strap of your ankle.
you couldn’t not wear them, your outfit depended on them. they just had the unfortunate luck of succumbing to the little pebble that laid in the middle of the sidewalk.
before you could even register your heart-dropping, warm, big, bulging arms enclose your waist, keeping you from colliding with the ground. when you instinctively reach out to grip them you felt the muscle beneath your fingers. you were sure your silk panties were ruined .
and to your dismay, the twitch of your legs trying to smother that burning heat between your thighs didn’t go unnoticed.
so observant wriothesley is, and you hate how easily he could read you, but the desire was mutual.
he constantly had to fight every signal in his body that yearned for you — that yearned to separate those plump thighs and perfectly ruin, and stretch that seeping little hole with his fingers. the thought plagues his mind the entire time.
you both go out for another outing and it was just meant to be an innocent dinner, but god — would you stop looking at him like that?
just stop pouting, stop doing that little furrow with your eyebrows, and stop putting on that sparkly lipgloss.
it’s moments like this where he’s thankful for his status. he’s quiet, and big enough to deter people from peering over his shoulder. a booth far away enough in a corner, makes it easier for the duke to get away with acting out in public— stuffing your mouth with his fingers.
even when sitting he towers over you. the dip of your clavicle kisses by the ends of your hair. so put together even in the process of ruin.
two of his wriothesley’s daft and ring-clad fingers stroke your tongue, spit coating the appendages. he could’ve busied them separating your puffy lower lips, but why would he when he can make you gag instead?
soft moans escape in the form of gurgled cries, you suck his fingers like a lollipop that was just too big for your tiny mouth. he’s rubs the insides of the orifice as if it were your pussy, with expert strokes that send your eyes reeling backward.
you pucker around them, lips tight, and you just croon like a good puppy.
“you like it when I stretch your little mouth? yeah, you do.” as if the arch in your back and the clench of your legs weren’t enough it would be your eyes blinking up at him submissively.
“you can open up a little wider— just like that, baby.”
and he’s knuckle deep by now and maybe he should stop, and not encourage you to be so obscene but he wasn’t thinking straight. it’s been a long enough week, [its tuesday ] but wriothesley works hard and some trouble once in a while can’t be that bad. neuvillette shouldn’t mind. he’s sure if he could see you now he’d be at your mercy. drooling around his rings, tits pushed up and makeup smeared— could anyone actually resist you?
“that’s my good girl, perfect little throat.” and he can’t wait to fuck it. If your mouth looked so delicate stretched around his burly fingers, what would it look like around his much bigger cock. that excites him — to think about the tip of his length poking the side of your cheek and thickening in the expanse of your throat. to be gifted with your drunken expression because he’s just too big and your brain can’t compute.
“you can pretend it doesn’t bother you, but I know you like when it when I get rough with little girls like you,” he drawls, in a deep and husky tone, low enough to fall on your ears alone.
there’s a fire that it ignites within and he controls the flame. you want to tell him no, to defy him, but it would be so unconvincing. you’re nearly falling apart, bursting at the seams with wanton hunger and thirst and it’s written all over your face.
it gives wriothesley a rush the more he fixates on your mouth. he talks big, knowing you're teetering on the edge of a mind break. he whispers how filthy you are for letting him fuck your mouth with his fingers. he teases you breathlessly that spit looks better on your lips then the lipgloss and that you can’t seem to stop re-applying.
things were fairly new, only soft gropes, intense kisses, and humping between leather and lacy frills were exchanged . this was the most erotic he’s seen you as of yet and its the closest you both have ever been. it made him eager for so much more.
“ you like how big I am thats why you’re letting me stuff your mouth."
and he dreams bout filling it some more— to the brink with his milky white, breeding your throat like it was your cunt until rivulets spill from the sides. Its right then and there that he wishes for no one else to be in the room so he can finally have you . he’s broken you down, and all you can do is listen.
"when i take you home, you'll be a sweet girl for me, right? no back talk and no more attitude ?”
you nod and even with a mouthful, you obediently open to speak.
“y-yes sir.”
such dangerous words.
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sulieykte · 7 months
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𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 - 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏
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pairing: dilf!jake sully x avatar!reader a/n: this one got a little bit away from me, and ended up a lot more plotty than i intended. warnings: 18+ mdni, age difference, uneven power dynamic, hints at cheating, accidental stimulation. barely proofread word count: 1900+
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"Do I have a choice?"
"'Fraid not, kid." Jake said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips at the glare you shoot him at your least favoured nickname. You hated being thought of as a kid, especially by him. As pathetic as it was, from the moment the hormones had kicked in, you'd held a torch for Jake and you can’t bear the thought that the man who so often visited your dreams thinks of you as a child. By the smirk that graces his annoyingly gorgeous face each time you protested, you had begun to suspect that it only egged him on.
You were younger than all other Avatar drivers, besides Spider, having got your Avatar at twenty-one, over two decades after the others. A much more exciting coming of age than the earth tradition of being allowed to drink. By human standards, you'd been an adult for several years, but you had still not passed that threshold by Na'vi standards. 
The subject of your iknimaya had been a source of many arguments within the clan, and you knew that Jake had done his best to protect you from it, but even his power had limits when faced with the outrage of several clan elders. You were proficient at riding Pa'li, and that had saved you for the first year, but the pressure only got worse after the move to high camp. 
It wasn't that you didn't want to, but your terror of heights had been discovered In your youth when at Lo'ak dragged you along with him and Spider to the Hallelujah Mountains and it took several hours and scratches to poor Norm's face to get you down. Norm had been insistent that you be sedated for the move to High Camp.
"Look, you’ve always wanted to be one of the people, and I know they haven't always been the most welcoming..." His face scrunches in discomfort at the thought, he had done his best to foster a good relationship between the Omatikaya and the humans that remained, but there was only so much he could do after the trauma your people had caused to the Na'vi. You couldn't blame them, but you and Spider, whose only crimes were being born here, had both faced the sting of that trauma many times. "But you see how they are with Spider, he's one of the people now. Don't you want that, kid?"
One of the people was stretching the truth a little in your opinion, but you did want that and you were well aware that your refusal to partake in their clan traditions didn't help matters for you. 
"Besides, what is there to be afraid of? You love Bob!"
"I do love Bob." You agreed, giving the Ikran a pat on the neck and receiving a nuzzle in return. You'd tried to make up for your lack of participation in clan traditions by helping out more around camp. That included caring for the Ikran, and you had grown quite fond of Jake's Ikran, and he you. You look up at Jake, your ears pressing back against your head in a performance that rivalled the many you’d given as a child to get Norm to let you leave Hell’s Gate unattended, looking for an ounce of sympathy that you might elicit from him in a last ditch effort to get out of it. "I also love not hurtling thousands of feet to my death."
You knew it was all over for you when the lines around his eyes became more pronounced and he burst into laughter. 
“Nice try, but if I let you get away with it any longer, people are gonna start thinking I’ve gone soft.” He climbs up onto Bob’s back and reaches out a hand to you. “Come on, you wouldn’t have me ruin my reputation for you, would you? It’s just one ride, I’ll ease you in.”
Defeated, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up in front of him. You were grateful to be sat facing away from him, it would at least save you from the embarrassment when your body is overtaken by terror, and would disguise some of the blush that heated your cheeks at being in such close proximity to him. You were even more grateful that he’d called you to the edge of the camp under the cover of darkness, so any members of the clan who might spot you would hopefully miss the colour of your cheeks.
You knew your attempts to hide your crush on the Olo’eyktan were not as effective as you might wish. Spider never failed to let you know how obvious your bodily reactions were whenever you were in his proximity, teasing you endlessly for every blush or stutter of your words. Though Spider was sure that Jake was well aware of your infatuation, you were certain he didn’t. He was way too happy to have you around, only giving that devilishly handsome grin of his whenever you found yourself lost for words in his presence. 
“Good girl.” Your body stiffens to stop the shiver that threatens to run down your spine at the sound of his voice, so deep and so so close to your ear as he reaches around you for Bob’s kuru. “When was the last time you trimmed your nails?” He asks, a deep chuckle vibrating against your back at your mumbled ‘that was one time…’. “Okay, you ready?” No, you weren’t and the shake of your head didn’t stop him from guiding each of your hands to grab onto a kuru. “Mirrors. Signal. Manoeuvre.”
Before you can question what the hell that means, the ground disappears from below you and High Camp disappears from your view. You only realise that the sound piercing your eardrums was your own screams when your voice begins to crack, your throat sore from sustaining the sound for so long and his laughter breaks through the sound.
“You back with me, kid?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over the whipping of the wind against your ears, and as awareness of your surroundings returns to you, you see that he’s settled you into a steady glide now, little over the treelines of what used to be the Omatikaya’s home. You’re so focussed on being so close to the place you used to think of as home and the adrenaline rushing through your body, that has your blood pumping and your head spinning, it takes much longer than you’d have liked to realise the position you’ve put yourself in.
In the panic of the descent, you’d all but climbed into Jake’s lap. Leaving no space between your bodies, your tail wrapped so tightly around his calf that you were sure you were cutting off his blood supply and although you’re thankful that it’s no longer Bob you were holding onto when you see the half moon indents in his wrists.
“Oh shit– Fuck! I’m so sorry.” Your body temperature rises several degrees over what you’re certain is safe when the reality of your situation hits you and the dizziness is no longer from height. There’s no way you’re thinking clearly through the blood rush to your head, and either insanity or stupidity takes over you when you try to detangle yourself from Jake all at once, releasing your hold on his arms and leg as you attempt a half baked lunge towards Bob’s neck and away from further humiliation that only leads to you nearly falling head first off of the Ikran and towards your greatest fear. 
“Jesus- Kid!” A strong arm pulls you backward, saving you from hurtling off to certain death but putting you back into the situation you were trying to escape, his thick bicep holding you tight around the shoulders and pressing you into his body. “What the hell are you thinking?” His voice reverberates in your ear, anger or irritation, whatever the tone was it had you blinking back tears. 
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” The apologies flow out of you as the tears wish to, your attempts to wriggle out of his grasp in vain as he only pulled you closer, uttering soft words that you couldn’t hear through the blood rushing to your ears. Your hands reaching to pull at the arm that imprisoned you, every inch of your body moving in the attempt you escape his grasp and further mortification, your nails were much sharper in your Avatar body, but Jake was not as deterred by their assault as Norm had been. “Oh Eywa just let me fall, I’m never getting on one of these things again, you might as well give up–”
Your spine stiffens as he says your name, voice booming to interrupt your shrill rambling. 
“Fuck– stop moving.” He orders, and you realise he’s breathing heavily, his chest pushing against your back as it rises and falls in quick succession as if he’s trying to catch his breath. His bicep tenses, still pressing you securely into his body as he brings you below the treelines and your body relaxes as you see the ground approaching and the comfort of fresh earth below your feet and the omatikaya’s former settlement.
Your body jolts against Jake’s, the landing a little too rough in his rush to get you on solid ground. He grunts, like the wind has been knocked out of him and as quick as he is to break Tsaheylu, he isn’t so fast to let go of you.
“Jake?” You ask, peering over your shoulder as far as his grip would allow. Your body might have relaxed, but he appeared to have picked up all of the tension you’d lost. His eyes were squeezed shut, nostrils flaring in a sharp intake of breath.  Your heart drops, the last person to show understanding for you had finally lost his patience. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak like that. I’ll call Norm and get him to pull me out of the link so you can take my body back.” 
A hand stops you before you can reach your comm, a hand stops your wrist, and when you look around his eyes are open and there’s something in them that you’ve never seen before. No one has ever looked at you like this. Not in any body. Not with the hunger you see looking back at you. 
And then you feel it. Hard and thick against your lower back and you realise why he’d been desperate for you to stop moving. The heat that rises to your cheeks pools between your legs as you realise that you had done that to him, however unintentionally. It could’ve been just a natural reaction, something he couldn’t help, you had been grinding against him in your escape attempt and despite appearances, he was only human. 
But you couldn’t believe that. Not as you hold his gaze, neither of you able to look away. Not when he’s looking at you like he’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life, his arm dropping as he releases his hold on you, only for his hands to find your hips, his fingers gripping at your skin. The silence is deafening, only filled with both of your heavy breathing until he breaks it, voice rougher than you were used to.
“Damn, kid. You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t ya?”
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storywriter007 · 8 months
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Life or Death - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader
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summary: in which y/n realizes thomas shelby hasn't been good to her
warnings: character death, cursing, poverty, catcalling, mentions of sex,
genre: heartbreak
word count: 2.9k
.....................................................
Birmingham, 1900
"i'm starving." a young thomas shelby said aloud.
"have you not had anything to eat today?" a young y/n asked.
"money's been tight, i've had to skip meals." tommy explained.
the two ten year olds sat in silence for a moment.
y/n knew what it was like for money to be tight. her family's income had been tight, after the passing of her father. her mom went to teach children at a local school while making dresses on the side to keep the two of them afloat.
"it's almost suppertime, why don't you come to my house?" y/n invited.
"really?" he asked.
"of course." she nodded. "you're my best friend, why would i want to see you hungry?"
that evening, y/n and tommy walked home together and were given a warm welcome by y/n's mother.
"tommy! welcome!" she exclaimed. "come on in you two."
they sat down at the table and began eating supper. stew and dumplings. it was warm and delicious.
to tommy, y/n's house often felt more like home than his own. it was quite small, but it had home-like decorations everywhere. it was nice and toasty since it didn't take much fire to heat the place, and moreover y/n was there.
"you children cannot stay out in the cold during this time of year." y/n's mother scolded, putting her hand on tommy's cheek and seeing how cold it was.
"but we were playing a game-" y/n argued.
"play games inside. i don't want to see you to freeze to death." she continued.
"yes mom." y/n laughed, looking at tommy, knowing they were going to go outside the next day anyways.
it was getting dark out and tommy was full.
"i should probably get going. bye y/n, by ms. y/l/n!" tommy said, getting up.
"wait!" y/n said, running to the kitchen.
she came back with tupperware.
"here, take some home." she insisted.
"no, no, i couldn't-" he argued.
"take it! tell john, arthur, and ada i say hello!" y/n said, shoving the tupperware into his arms.
that night, tommy's siblings had a warm meal.
"this is delicious tommy! where'd you get this from?" arthur remarked.
"y/n. she insisted." he responded.
"you better marry her for this one." arthur laughed.
.....................................................
Birmingham, 1904
"look at the body on that one." a classmate remarked as y/n walked by.
she just rolled her eyes and continued walking. this wasn't unusual.
"you'd make a ton of money at the whore house!" the boy yelled out again as laughter followed.
so would your mother, y/n thought of saying, but decided that it was best for her to not. this boy was twice her size.
"so would your mother." another boy's voice called out.
y/n turned around to see tommy and the other boy standing chest to chest, about to fight.
"what'd you say shelby?" the boy asked.
"so would your mother." he repeated, not an ounce of fear in his voice.
a teacher came and pulled the two apart.
"both of you seperate. if i see this again, i'll make sure to tell your mothers!" she scolded.
both the boys backed away from one another. tommy caught up with y/n.
"thanks tommy." she said.
"it's nothing, i've wanted to say that to him for a while now." tommy laughed.
"my mum's sending me to get groceries today? would you like to join me." y/n asked.
"of course." tommy agreed. "can't wait to eat apples out of the farmer's cart."
"don't do that! you got us chased down last time!" y/n scolded, remembering a set of angry farmers running after them.
they settled down after they were paid, at least. otherwise, who knows what could've happened.
"it was fun!" he argued.
"it was." she agreed.
as she watched tommy walk away, y/n realized that she had a crush on him. but it was just a crush, it wasn't that serious.
.....................................................
Birmingham, 1914
"glad to see you dr." tommy smiled, opening the door to the pub.
"happier to see you mr." she returned the joke.
y/n had always wanted to save people's lives, so she entered the medical field. after gaining main patients, it became more difficult to see tommy as often as she used to. even tommy was on the rise in the business world. it was hard to hangout with one-another, but they always made time.
over the years, y/n's crush on tommy had turned into love, but she didn't know how to tell him. no time ever seemed right.
"there might be a war." tommy said, drinking whiskey at the pub.
"you think you'll get drafted?" y/n asked, wanting him to say no, but knowing what the answer was.
"yes." he answered. "unfortunately."
"it'll just be me and ada." y/n chuckled. "she's better company than you."
"oh really? go drink with her." tommy laughed. "you'll miss me when i go off."
"you know i will." y/n smiled.
.....................................................
y/n realized her worst nightmare had come true as tommy stood at her front door.
"i have to go to france." he said.
she felt water fill up her eyes, but she stayed calm.
"i'll miss you." she smiled.
"i'll miss you too." he smiled back.
he turned around to leave.
"tommy, wait." she said, trying not to cry.
he turned around.
"i didn't know when to tell you this because no time ever seemed right and we were always so busy." she rambled. "but since you're going to france, and i might not see you again, i just want you to know i love you. it's no use for me to say i don't, because it's true. i've loved you ever since i've known you."
the tears started falling. he stared at her for a minute. did she ruin their friendship? did he not feel the same way? would he never talk to her again? did she have to do this before he left?
lost in her thoughts, y/n didn't realize tommy had leaned down and kissed her.
.....................................................
Birmingham, 1918
y/n got down on her knees, that had already been bruised from how much she'd kneeled.
"dear god, please keep tommy, john, and arthur safe." she pleaded. "please keep tommy safe."
she'd done this every morning and every night since the boys were drafted.
"please make it end soon." she continued.
she looked at the couple of photographs her and tommy had together from years before. they used to love taking together, and writing the story on the back.
she got to their last picture. taken four years ago. it was hear and tommy making silly faces. on the back, it said, "tommy's going to france."
she felt a tear run down her cheek. what if he never came back? what if that was their last photo together?
.....................................................
Birmingham, 1919
y/n was overjoyed when all three brothers returned, alive. she hugged tommy so tightly, glad he was alright.
but something had changed. tommy wasn't as happy as he used to be anymore. he didn't smiled as much, but he still did when they were together, and that was all that mattered to y/n.
y/n knew all about the shelby business, having grown very close to ada and polly, she was informed about everything. even when tommy was doing gang work before, he was never as gloomy as he was now. he was much more serious.
she tried desperately to comfort him, and it did work. he did talk about the war with her, and y/n understood he was traumatized. she didn't try to change him or tell him lighten up, she understood the mental toll it had taken on him.
countless nights would tommy tell her about the memories of war and they would end up falling asleep on the floor, in a mix of papers and books.
they were never officially together, they had never gotten then chance. but when tommy was ready, y/n hoped they could make it offical.
one night, they walked into the garrison. y/n had just finished with a long day of patients.
"dr!" arthur greeted y/n with a hug.
"arthur!" she laughed back.
however, there was a new face at the pub. she was pretty, with blonde hair and blue eyes. y/n came up to her.
"i haven't seen you around! are you new?" she smiled, asking.
"yes, i am new." the barmaid responded, quite curtly, y/n noticed.
"i'm y/n! what's your name?" she asked.
"grace. my name is grace." she said, briefly.
"well, grace, i just wanted to say, i think you're absolutely gorgeous." y/n smiled.
grace gave a brief smile back and went back to bartending.
odd, y/n thought, but assumed it was because of how busy the pub was, her mind was probably on working.
.....................................................
"there's this new copper who's been on my ass." tommy said.
"that sucks. has he been sniffing around?" y/n asked.
"yes." he responded, taking a long drag out of his cigarette.
y/n noticed grace very clearly listening to their conversation.
"he's been asking me about, well, y'know." he continued. "they're taken care of, but still. he's onto me."
of course she knew. the guns. tommy had told her everything. his plan and why.
"that's enough about that." he ended. "how's your business, doctor?"
"it's going well." y/n chuckled. "i'm seeing entire lineages now."
"whiskey?" grace asked, coming over.
"no thank you." y/n smiled. "i should get home now."
tommy smiled and said goodbye. y/n thought that was odd, since usually tommy would've walked her out.
"thank you grace." she said, before leaving.
grace ignored her.
.....................................................
y/n was sitting with the shelby's at the garrison. she noticed something about tommy, something odd. he straightened up whenever grace entered the room and he always smiled.
this wasn't the first odd thing tommy had done. since she came, he was at the pub more. he also took her to a horserace. not to mention, his eyes foretold a story between them. it had been a while since tommy looked at her that way.
but there was something odd about grace. she was always listening in and trying to get closer to tommy.
y/n asked to see tommy privately, and that's when she made her point.
"the barmaid, she seems suspicious. do you notice how she's always listening in and trying to get close to you? and how that copper start bothering you the same time she came here?" y/n said.
"her name's grace." tommy responded.
"yes, grace, seems odd." y/n corrected.
"what is it y/n? you can't stand there's another friend of mine?" he said, clearly aggravated.
"no, i don't care about that. i just don't want you to get hurt-"
"hurt? hurt is when i was in france." he interrupted.
"tommy, will you just try to listen?"
"to your bullshit? no." he said.
that hurt.
"you're free to leave." he said simply, taking a drag out of his cigarette.
y/n chuckled, and left.
.....................................................
can y/n say it came as a shock when tommy told her grace had betrayed him and fled the country? not really.
"i told you so." y/n said, plainly. "it was obvious."
tommy seemed pissed at that comment.
"that doesn't mean you can talk down on her." tommy stated.
"well tommy, you can't really control what i say and what i think." she responded back, beginning to get aggravated at his blindness. "and what i think is that grace is a traitor."
"what i think is that you should leave." he said.
"always running from the truth, now-a-days, aren't you?" she smiled, leaving.
y/n would be lying if she said she didn't go home that night and cry, because she did. why was tommy so wrapped around grace? had he fallen in love with her? no, no. it was probably just attraction. it had to be. right?
the next day, tommy apologized for being so harsh to her, and everything was back to normal. no more grace, no more deception, and no more stupidity.
.....................................................
y/n was still waiting for tommy to make it official, but he still hadn't. the war had been over for two years now. she had thought about tommy everyday for the past seven years.
she missed him, she missed what they used to have. it was almost midnight, and she decided she wanted to go see him. she couldn't keep waiting.
she called his number three times, but he didn't pick up, so she drove to his home, and knocked on the door. no answer. she was starting to get worried. she opened the door and walked in on something that made her stomach drop.
it was tommy with grace. and they were having sex on the sofa, and he whispered how much he loved her and how he thought of her everyday. it seemed they had finished, because now they were getting dressed. when tommy turned his head and saw y/n, his eyes grew wide.
y/n felt tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat.
he dragged her into his office.
"what the hell y/n! you can't just fucking barge into my house!" he yelled.
"i called you three times. i knocked on your door and waited outside for five minutes. with the life you live tommy, i got worried." she said, wiping her nose.
"y/n, you have to leave." he said. "i've got something here, and i can't lose it again."
again. y/n felt her stomach drop and her heart break into a thousand pieces.
"again?" she asked. "again! tommy, i have waited for you! i waited for seven fucking years, waiting for you to say you want to try something with me!" she yelled.
"do you not remember! do you not remember the night you got drafted, because i sure as hell do!" she screamed.
"y/n, calm down, you're going to scare grace-"
oh that sent her.
"grace! you think i give two fucks about grace! the one who deceived you, lied to you, manipulated you, and now comes running back!" she screamed even louder.
"i love her!" he yelled.
"you love her! you love her! than what about me!" y/n yelled, tears starting to flow. "what about every day and night i prayed for you during the war! what about every time i invited you to my house for supper! i have waited and waited for you to say that you love me and you just don't!"
tommy was silent.
"i have loved you throughout everything. i was always kind to you. i was good." she continued.
"i'm a bad man, y/n, we know this." he said.
"and i love you even though you're a bad man! you believed every one of her lies of all of my truths. and i still loved you! you kicked me out everytime i brought it up! and guess what? i still loved you."
tommy looked at her.
"who was there by your side when you were scared and alone? who was there every night when you got back from the war and had terrible nightmares? who was there taking care of finn while you were off at war, because i don't think it was fucking grace!"
"i'm sorry." he said.
"no you're not because if you were, you wouldn't have done this in the first place!" she screamed through tears.
"who was there thomas!" that was the first time she had said his full name. "i'm done. don't fucking call me, don't show up to my office, don't come near me. i'm done playing your dark and twisted games just for you to switch the rules so someone else wins. i'm done dealing with a different you every fucking night. i'm done."
thomas looked at her.
"who's it going to be?" y/n asked.
"so well." he responded.
y/n smiled and turned around to leave, but before she left, she said he final words to thomas.
"i'm never going to aid you again. whether it be in life or death."
that was the last conversation between y/n and thomas.
.....................................................
Birmingham, 1924
"just have some soup and rest up, and you'll feel a lot better." y/n advised her last patient of the day.
work had become more of a thing for y/n after word of her spread all across birmingham, she was getting patients from everywhere. and for right reasons, she was a damn good doctor.
she walked them outside before sitting in the waiting room with her receptionist.
"thank you edward, you're free to leave." she said, smiling.
"see you tomorrow doctor." edward smiled as he exited.
y/n was left to close her office. she began putting files away and cleaning equiptment. the doors and windows were locked. the stationary was put away.
suddenly, she heard a loud knock on her door. she turned around to see a face she thought she'd never see again. she stared into his bright blue eyes for a moment, before realizing he was actually here, and that it was just a figment of her imagination.
y/n opened the small window on the door. she looked down to see him carrying grace. she had been very clearly shot.
"she might have a chance, please y/n."
"you chose her over me." y/n said, looking into his piercing blue eyes.
he froze.
"and i told you that very night, i would never aid you again, whether it be life or death." she reminded, shutting the window door.
he banged on the door, pleading. she shot him one last look before shutting the blinds, turning the lights off, and leaving out the back.
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Text
Inspired by @hotvintagepoll, here's another bracket featuring some hot vintage actors- but instead of being about actors from a particular medium, this one's about actors associated with a particular genre:
The Hottest Vintage Sci Fi/Fantasy Actors Bracket!
I'll be starting with a men's bracket.
Submissions for the men's bracket are closed! More info about the polls coming soon!
What makes an actor eligible for this tournament?
In order to keep this tournament on-theme and not have it turn into a free-for-all vintage actors tournament, all actors submitted should have some kind of strong connection to Sci-Fi and/or Fantasy media. This might mean that they're an actor who has appeared frequently in various Sci Fi/Fantasy works, or that their most well-known role is from something that's Sci-Fi/Fantasy. Actors who aren't necessarily exclusively or primarily thought of as Sci-Fi/Fantasy actors are allowed, provided that they have at least one Sci-Fi/Fantasy work that is considered an iconic role for them. You are free to submit actors you aren't sure count! I'd rather have more submissions than less. Just keep in mind that its possible some people may be cut if it doesn't feel like they really fit the tournament.
(Also, as a side note: horror movies with some kind of fantastical/sci fi element also count for this tournament!)
Other rules for submissions & propaganda:
You can submit actors who appeared in work from as early as 1900 to as late as 2000 (so pretty much it has to be 20th century). That way we can cover a range of classic sci fi/fantasy, from some of the earliest SF/Fantasy films to some of the cult classic works of the 80s and 90s.
You can submit actors and propaganda from both movies and television! It just must be from or related to SF/Fantasy material.
Please only submit propaganda where the actor is at least 18! This also means if someone's only notable and eligible SF/Fantasy role(s) is from before they were 18, they are not eligible for this tournament (even if they continued to act generally as an adult, or were in more notable sf/fantasy roles past the 2000 date cutoff)
Live action roles only; voice roles will not be counted for propaganda/eligibility
Actors who aren't considered primarily Sci-Fi/Fantasy actors must have at least one iconic SF/Fantasy role to qualify for the tournament; however, if they've had other lesser known SF/Fantasy roles as well, you are more than welcome to send in propaganda related to these roles, too!
I might put up an FAQ as well if I get a lot of similar questions/for things that need clarifying.
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neil-gaiman · 1 year
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Hi :) I listened to your episode of Betwixt the Sheets and just wanted to thank you, and Kate Lister, for introducing me this part of history because I think I thought it had all been very prim and proper up to basically the mid-1900s, and it’s nice to be proven wrong. Hours of entertainment to come over the dark evenings!
You are so welcome. It's a terrific podcast about what humans do and have done for so long. I was a fan, so was thrilled to have been asked to be a part of it, doing something I could do with delight. (I'd love to release a take of the complete "Imperfect Enjoyment". It goes to such interesting places.)
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