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whokilledjared · 3 months

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the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself. (& takes on social media)

Hi.

I'm lonely.

The moment I got "two weeks off school" in sophomore year, life went to 4x speed & I can't turn it off no matter how hard I try.

Maybe COVID-19 adolescence did numbers on me. Somewhere between the iPhone 5c and ChatGPT, 14-hour screen times have live-streamed to me a steady, homogenous death of culture.

Nothing is cool anymore. Nothing is sacred. Every movement is a trend, and every cult classic a sequel.

The value we place on things being beautiful, on being "cool," and our gatekept appreciation of how hard these things were to find: it's been co-opted, or perhaps stolen. It's been stolen by the new merchant class. "Disruptors" and "innovators" turning our lives into a burgeoning black mirror prequel. Soon, we'll graduate too, and we'll wring every morsel of value in each others' lives dry for cash.

Plain and simple, I think we're being manipulated.

Your dates are an algorithm. Your music is a social signal. And Zuck knows when you sleep.*

God. What the fuck are we doing???

“Individuation is becoming the thing which is not the ego, and that is very strange.” — Carl Jung

Recently, I deleted Instagram. My first impulse was to post a story or something, announcing my departure. But then, I thought that would be lame.

I got rid of my account, too. Kinda. Over 1 year, over 800 followers removed, and what remains of me is a little grey icon, and "JM_0000000010" where my name and face used to be.

yay.

There were many people I wish I could have been friends with, but I wonder, too, why I find myself so drawn to the validation of others. Does social media affect me worse, or do we all just choose to ignore it, languishing in private?

At any rate, this last year has almost felt like re-learning how to be a human being.

Personally, I think one of the biggest markers for maturity is when you become willing to disappoint the people you know in favor of what feels right to you, when you start to unravel the stories you’ve told yourself (or been told) about who you are and what you should be. In short, the sluttiest thing a man can do is be himself.

And sometimes, I think about every college student that has ever lived. My grandmother, my dad, and so on. Just consider for a moment all kids who graduated before 2010:

What was it like for the ones in 1940? To walk around, before a campus had computers? In 2006: To meet someone pretty, but forget their number? In 1999: To cram into dorms, and watch Seinfeld live on-air?

Would I, like my dad in 1988, have braved cold night, brisk wind, & landline phone-call just to knock and see if my friends were too busy to hang?

What stories could I tell if there was even the slightest chance of getting lost on the way home from a party?

Humans are social creatures. We crave our friends like water. To me, the clearest difference between Dasani and Instagram is that one of them comes in a bottle.

Yet despite these distractions and comforts we have in 2024, somehow, we still have engineering students. People who carve out time in their day to sit down, look at paper, and solve differential equations. But then, that's not so hard, is it? It just takes time. Precious, fucking, time.

At Meta, leagues and leagues of these engineers power behavioral scientists, who are competing for the highest salary. Their benchmarks? Your FOMO. Guilt. Anxiety. Obsession. The worse you feel, the more you engage with their content. The more you engage with their content, well, you're starting to get the point.

Try something for me: Open up Instagram, but don't tap anything. What happens? How many little animations? How many tiny nudges prompting you to get lost? Our home-pages are billion-dollar diving boards, hoisting us over engineered catacombs of subconscious quicksand.

My homepage is my FOMO, my envy, and my crushes. The pain and struggle of trying to be someone who I am not. My little existential crises, bundled-up, packaged, and shipped with a like button.

To abandon your social networks entirely, however, requires a safety net of close friends. After all, your friends are online, and you'd be miserable without them.

This is the problem with our monkey brains. Millennia of sociological natural-selection have made us quite great at feeling terrible. We're damn good at making tribal status games to play with, too.

Seeking refuge in quirked up septum piercings and boygenius listeners, my time in counter-cultural, alternative "scenes" between St. Louis and Tampa has shown me that even the weirdest of folks and the most removed can accidentally find themselves reduced to nothing more than high-school popularity contests. Even if I love them. Even if they're amazing people. We're human.

We can't "quit social media" as much as we can't "quit bottled water" Sure, we can, but it's inconvenient. And even without a bottle, we're still drinking water.

So I lost touch with my friends. I got no new updates on their lives. I forced myself into the inconvenience of not having a phone to reach for in fleeting moments of boredom. Suddenly, I was out of the loop. Suddenly, I was bored. And suddenly, nobody missed me. My only friends were the ones I had the time to text. Everyone else ... does not exist.

Weekends have become more valuable than ever. Without the empty social calories of seeing my friends' pictures, I find myself planning hangouts as often as my schedule allows. I have more lunches, more study sessions, and more is done in the company of less.

And I have the time to breathe.

And in this calm, I think I found my answer: it's my misplaced ambition. These fears of anxiety and people I thought I would miss, they seem represent something I want to see more of within myself. Something I want to develop, lean into more deeply, as an individual. And I think that's quite normal; to look out into the world and feel attracted to things we want to see more of. This is, I think, how everyone develops their own definition of beauty — and of coolness. It's largely the intersection of what we find most interesting, and what we want to see more of in the world. Because beauty and coolness, by definition, are rare and hard to find. If they were everywhere, nothing be beautiful, nor would anything be cool.

When we all turn into wrinkles and cataracts, bad backs and heart attacks, for a brief, glorious moment, our lives are going to flash before our eyes. In this moment, you'll see your story. The ultimate progression of you.

How much of that will be skibidi toilet and reaction clips? How much of that will be arguing on the internet? Can you tell me, just how much of your life will you have skipped over to pacify your intentionally-lowered attention span?

That girl whose number you couldn't find Those passing questions over coffee that you couldn't search on Google The boredom of a subway ride

Those are not inconveniences, they're what the older generations refer to as "life."

* (oh, but if you can't sleep, consider this aside: Google knows the angle you walk at, how fast you're walking, and they've got crowdsourced pictures of everywhere around you at all times of the day. fun bedtime thoughts <3)

#scene #alternative #social media #social justice #instagram #college #coming of age #writing #blogpost #blog takes

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nanowrimo · 5 months

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A Message from the NaNoWriMo Board of Directors

Dear NaNoWriMo Community Members,

Thank you for reaching out to us with your inquiries about the forums, your support, offers to volunteer, and your legitimate concerns.

Our inbox has been flooded, and we appreciate all of the thoughtful responses from participants and volunteers who genuinely care about NaNoWriMo, our fellow writers, and the community as we do. It is impossible to respond to each message individually, but we wanted to let you all know we are working with purpose and sincerity.

Please see below the breakdown of the work that has been done since we last shared an update with the community. Our intention is to keep you abreast of all we are doing to make NaNoWriMo a better, safer, place:

We’ve overseen a full-scale review of business practices led by former Board Member, Kilby Blades, who has stepped in to assist the organization on an interim basis.

We’ve begun to implement new procedures around community safety, including:

Full revision and legal review of our employee handbook and codes of conduct.

Full revision and legal review of our Municipal Liaison(ML) agreement.

Development of a formal contract agreement for all (non-ML) Volunteers.

Development of a stricter vetting process for all volunteers (which includes identity verification and background checks, wherever necessary).

Licensing of a digital constituent management system that will enhance volunteer management capabilities.

Comprehensive background checks for all current employees.

Checks and balances to ensure that standards of conduct and ethics are adhered to (e.g., better leadership training, volunteer training, tech mechanisms, and active oversight).

We’ve made staffing changes and revised our staffing plan.

We have rescoped certain roles and initiated some staffing changes. (However, certain employees who left the organization voluntarily are in pursuit of their next opportunities.)

We believe that learning from this moment through addressing skill gaps in the organization is healthy and we will go through a hiring process to fill necessary gaps in open roles.

We’ve listened to other community feedback and are still in listening mode.

We’ve disabled the mechanism on the YWP website that allows users to self-identify as educators for the purpose of creating classrooms, and we are researching mechanisms that will allow us to verify adults as educators.

We’ve revised our technology roadmap to address usability issues and are hoping to introduce new features in 2024.

We are midway through a deep dive on forums and forum moderation; this has included benchmarking with other organizations with similar challenges.

In February, we will hold focus groups for continuing MLs. We are also thinking through the logistics of Town Hall meetings and other gatherings.

We’ve processed dozens of pages of community member feedback and are integrating it into our thinking.

With the staffing changes mentioned above, we are open to hearing from those of you who have reached out with offers to help and/or be a part of the organization’s future. Get notified about future job opportunities at NaNoWriMo.

We are excited about the future, and expect it to be brighter! We hope you feel seen and heard, and that you will stick with us as we continue supporting the writing community and our organization.

Kind regards,

NaNoWriMo Board of Directors

#nanowrimo #by nano hq #board of directors

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kiefbowl · 3 months

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hi! do you have any advice for negotiating a higher salary? i think the job i was hired to do a few months ago deserves a better pay but idk how to go about asking for it

This is so spooky I was literally thinking about making a post about asking for more money this morning. you must have been listening to my thoughts lol

Yeah, I have some advice, but keep in mind that different companies and industries might have little quirks I'm not aware of, take these points as very broad advice you might want to adapt for your own personal situation:

If you company does any kind of raise schedule (as an example: every year on your anniversary you are entitled to a 1-3% raise based on performance) - if you're about 8-12 weeks until that time, try to hold out until after you get that raise. I only suggest this because almost all companies will tell you the raise you negotiated takes over as your new raise schedule, so this is really just to get more money in the long run. The 8-12 weeks benchmark is just a suggestion to try to keep your request to negotiate and your scheduled raise in different financial quarters, which might help.

Have a clear goal of what you're asking for. Clear doesn't mean "super specific" but it can. At minimum, have the number you're going to be asking for. What's probably better though is to have the number you're going to be asking for if nothing else changes, and what more you'd be willing to do for even more money than that.

Only answer questions that are asked, only provide information as needed. You can start the conversation by saying "I'm coming to you requesting a raise" and let them respond to that. You can say things like "My duties have expanded including xyz" and you can say things like "I think my skillset is valuable" and "I think I provide x value to the company because of y reasons," but don't just launch into a spiel about what you think you deserve without seeing how they react first.

Talk in numbers. Just get straight to the point when they ask how much. Have a number for the amount per year if salary/amount per hour if hourly, plus convert that number into the percentage raise it would be. Asking for 20% more is a big ask, you know what I'm saying? Even if it's fair on the market for you industry, if they're paying that low from the market it means it's built into their business plan and you might want to consider a different company. and if they set a precedent with giving you 20%, they don't have much to stand on when you go tell all your buddies and they start asking for 20%. And if that's the situation at your company, at that point, you might wanna consider just unionizing instead lol.

It's good to consider the other guy on the other side of the table when you're negotiating. People give you things you want if you're considerate of the things they want. Some things to keep in mind that might be on your boss's plate: annual budgets, quarterly budgets, hiring quotas, hiring freezes, established pay structures decided by powers that be way above them that they have no control over, the fact that they will have to take your request to their boss and/or HR to get approval...like speak intelligently to these concerns as best you can. And be in a quid pro quo mindset. The argument is either "I already do this incredibly valuable thing you don't want to lose so give me more money or I will stop doing this by going elsewhere" or "I will do even more incredible value you don't want to lose if you give me more money, or I will do nothing by going elsewhere." Focus on what do they get and what do they lose if you don't get what you want. Except in professional parlance :)

Have confidence that you have every right to just ask. You are not some shit covered indentured peasant speaking to your god appointed king. You are a human person who is allowed to have adult conversations with other adults. If you can keep that confidence of "I'm just an adult having a normal conversation" it'll keep you on track and not get swayed into whatever tangets your boss my hem and haw on. Short, sweet, and to the point as best as possible.

Your boss is probably not fantastic at negotiating because almost no one is. So don't even sweat it. Ambush them a little, be polite, lay it on the table, then ask them what's next. If they seem to be hesitant, weird, put off...you could read malicious evil intent into it, but they're probably just woefully under-prepared and might flail a bit as some distraction. Just be like "Well, we can table this and I'll follow up with you on Friday" if it really seems like they can't get nail down an answer, or if you know they have to talk to their higher up anyway.

You might just get it. It might be the easiest thing you've ever done. I've countered and gotten exactly what I've wanting in 0.005 seconds flat. That's always a bit bittersweet because you just know you could have asked for more lol. Your boss might already have numbers at the ready for when people ask for raises, they just need people to ask. If you're company is doing well and pulling in good revenue, you will probably have a very easy conversation. So go get 'em.

Most importantly, show them your switchblade have fun and just be yourself!!!

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kingdom-by-the-sea · 1 year

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The Not Valentine’s Date

Summary- Mutual pining, an office bet, and baby sitting make for an interesting Valentine’s Day between Spencer and Hotch’s daughter.

Warnings- fluffy fluff

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Hotch’s daughter

Word Count- 2.7k

A/N- This is something I randomly wrote last year after Valentine’s Day but didn’t post cause I felt like I had missed my window. Who knows maybe I’ll write something later this week that I’ll post in a year.

—————-

“Eww,” Emily complained, scrunching up her face in disgust, “Please tell me that none of those lines actually work on real life girls. I don’t understand why guys had to start going around saying stuff like that and ruin Valentine’s day for the rest of us.”

”Woah,” Prentiss stopped Reid mid-explaining, “You are not actually referring to that,” she gestured vaguely in Morgan’s direction, “as poetry.”

Spencer scrunched his face in consideration, “Not in the traditional sense, I suppose. However, in my opinion, some of the best lines of poetry about love have nothing to do with Valentine’s day so using it as the standard might not properly reflect what you’re looking for.”

“Oh really,” Morgan questioned, “And what exactly would you use to woo the ladies on the fourteenth?”

Reid considered the question seriously his fingers tapping to some indiscernible beat as he thought, “‘We loved with a love that was more than love.’”

“What?” Morgan’s reaction was quick and it seemed that everyone else in the group mirrored his sentiment, “Hate to break it to you, pretty boy, but no girl you mention that to is going to have a clue-”

“You quote a man who married his thirteen year-old cousin on love?” Y/N asked suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“They really are a match made in heaven…” Prentiss muttered only loud enough for Morgan to hear, who responded with a chuckle.

Reid’s face darkened several shades of red, “I just mean-”

“It’s fine,” Y/N let out a small laugh, “I’m just teasing. Annabel Lee’s probably my favorite poem. Just sucks that most of the romanticism poets were… just really weird.”

Spencer regained his composure and released an unexpected laugh, “Yeah.”

“Anyone want more coffee, I’m going to get another cup,” Y/N stood and left for the kitchenette after finding there weren’t any takers.

“So close and yet… so far,” Prentiss said once Y/N was out of earshot.

“Seriously, man,” Morgan started, “Just ask her to go to dinner or something already.”

Reid rolled his eyes, “Is this about your bet pool thing again?”

“Not anymore,” Morgan said, “I’ve been out since last month. Somehow I thought New Years would do the trick.”

Prentiss laughed, “You’re doing way better than me. I really thought the hormones would outweigh this nerdy stupidity,” she gestured at Reid’s face, “and said Halloween.”

“Halloween?!” Reid squeaked out before lowering his voice significantly, “There is no way you thought Y/N and I would get together by Halloween of last year.”

The two agents dutifully ignored him and Morgan continued, “Who’s even left at this point? I know Rossi chose St. Patrick’s day for whatever reason.”

“And Hotch said Valentine’s,” Prentiss finished and any air of concern left Reid’s face.

“Well now I know you’re making this up,” he turned back to his work, “There is no way Hotch would bet on his daughter’s love life.”

Prentiss tsked, “Your future father-in-law is going to be very disappointed if you miss this benchmark.”

“Seriously though,” Morgan started again, “Just ask her to hang out. Don’t even call it a date.”

“We hang out all the time though…” Spencer whispered, fiddling with his tie.

“Then it shouldn’t be that big of a deal,” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, “Go get her, lover boy.”

Reluctantly, Reid rose from his seat and made his way to the kitchenette. Y/N was busy filling up her mug with the right amount of sugar- that is as much as can fit in the cup- but smiled when she noticed him.

“Did you change your mind? I can grab another mug.”

“What? Oh- no, I’m good,” he glanced over at her searching for the right words, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to hang out on Monday…?”

Y/N’s face lit up at the thought before she scrunched up her nose, “I’d love to but I can’t. I’m actually watching Jack so my dad can go out but maybe this weekend?”

She returned to stirring her coffee not noticing the third person entering the vicinity.

“Or Reid could come over and help you with Jack?” Hotch said, forcing them both to turn suddenly in his direction.

“Oh no,” Y/N began, “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you to waste your Valentine’s Day.”

“No, no. That sounds great,” Spencer smiled at her and her heart seemed to warm as she mirrored his reaction, “Send me the times over the weekend.”

With that Reid walked back to his desk in semi-victory.

“Did Reid just ask you to hangout with him on Valentine’s Day?” Hotch asked with a mock accusatory glance.

“Yeah,” Y/N said absentmindedly, “I mean no- I mean he did but it's not like that. We are just two single adults who enjoy each other’s company and not having to feel lonely on a day devoted to love.”

“Y/N, what exactly do you call it when two single adults meet up on Valentine’s Day to ‘enjoy each other’s company?’” he could barely manage to suppress the smile growing on his face at the teasing.

Her face turned pink, “I’m not sure- but apparently you call it babysitting.”

~~~

As the evening waned on, Y/N was more and more glad for Spencer’s company. Outside of simply enjoying his presence, it helped to have a second person there to reign in some of Jack’s more energetic behavior. However, her appreciation wasn’t enough to keep her from noticing how her heartstrings tugged seeing the way Jack and Spencer both lit each other up with excitement. Spencer was beyond engaging and Y/N finally understood why Henry always seemed to immediately latch onto Spencer at BAU gatherings. It was intoxicating to watch them together and Y/N easily could have lost herself in the moment if it weren’t for the screaming six-year-old running around the house constantly threatening to knock things over. Luckily for Reid, Y/N, and their respective sanities, this level of energy wasn’t sustainable and an eventual crash was inevitable.

He nodded lazily in response, “Can we watch Encanto?” for a brief moment the sparks returned behind his eyes as he mentioned what was quickly becoming his new favorite movie.

“Sure,” Y/N said with a small laugh. This would have to be close to the twentieth time she had seen the movie but for Jack’s sake, it was all worth it.

Jack headed for the stairs and Spencer was quick to follow after him.

“I’ll help him get ready for bed,” he explained, noticing what was apparently a rather obvious expression of confusion and the slight tilt of her head, “You could set up the movie?”

Having your heart flutter this much had to be medically concerning, but there was nothing Y/N could do to stop it as she watched her best friend take her brother’s small hand.

“Okay,” she whispered and was met with a smile that sent her straight back into heart-fluttering territory. No matter how long she knew Spencer, he never stopped surprising her. Considering the effort and detail he put into every other aspect of his life, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would be so attentive with her brother. And yet he still managed to strengthen his hold on her heart with every little action that came as some unexpected surprise to her. In truth, she suspected it was a precautionary measure, if she truly let herself recognize how kind and wonderful Spencer was, she’d be done for in an instant.

All the precautions in the world couldn’t have stopped the back of her mind from spinning stories about him though. Spencer was too gentle and pure to keep the less hardened parts of her soul from imagining what it all could be like if she could indulge if she could step over the line she had drawn in the sand for herself.

Upstairs, it seemed Jack had stumbled upon a small reservoir of energy, taking the time to show Spencer his favorite toys and stuffed animals while Spencer attempted to offer him various pajama set options. Eventually, Jack settled on the set covered with small dogs.

Spencer didn’t mind the push and pull Jack, or other children gave him. There was something so strangely fascinating to him about a mind so free from insecurity and a child’s willingness to simply say what was on their mind. Despite his extensive memory, he couldn’t remember a time he truly felt like that and hoped it was merely a result of the fog around his earliest memories. Every decision he made was coated in consideration and accounted for every possible result. He couldn’t help but wish that his hypervigilance would let up from time to time and leave him free to explore the thoughts, and emotions, that remained.

“You work with my sister,” Jack offered up less as a question and more as a statement.

“Yes, I do,” Spencer responded to the not question.

The boy’s head bobbed in as much seriousness as a six-year-old could muster, “Can you still be friends with someone if you work with them?”

Spencer watched as he stepped away from him and began absentmindedly examining the toys around his room.

“Of course,” Spencer answered, not sure where this line of question was headed, “Your sister and I are very good friends then.”

Jack’s attention swiftly returned to Spencer, “So you like her then?”

“I do like her. She’s smart and cool,” Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly on the boy, “Just like you.”

Jack came closer to him and in what he seemed to think was a hushed voice said, “Did you know that sometimes when people really like they get married…?”

“And then….” he scrunched up his face and whispered, “They make a baby.”

Spencer’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened in what Jack considered to be genuine surprise.

“I know, right?” Jack stepped away and began picking up a blanket and stuffed animal to take downstairs with him, without looking up he added, “Do you think you and Y/N will get married?”

Spencer’s mind went completely blank. None of the dozens of courses he had taken over the years would provide him with any sort of answer that would satisfy Jack. Part of him wanted to say yes and not give any of it another thought but reason quickly squashed that idea. And yet…

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to say no either. It was far too permanent and left no room for the small bead of hope he hid away in the back of his mind.

“Maybe…” he answered finally, “I don’t really know though…”

Jack pulled the blanket and toy behind him and giggled, “I hope you do!”

Spencer’s stomach did a somersault and he scooped the small boy and his blanket up into his arms before he could notice the strange smile emerging on his face. I do too.

~~~

“I swear that kid is pure energy,” Y/N said, shutting the door behind them and stepping out into the cool night with Spencer.

Y/N pointed a somewhat accusatory finger at him, “And don’t say something like ‘technically we are all energy since we’re made of mass.’’

He rolled his eyes at her with a smile, “I was going to say that while he may have been more energetic than I expected- I had fun hanging out with you guys.”

She couldn’t help the smile that immediately bubbled up to the surface of her lips, “I had fun too. I’m glad I didn’t completely waste your Valentine’s day.”

“Never,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Y/N said when they reached the end of the driveway where Spencer’s car was parked.

His eyes narrowed slightly on her, “What are you doing? How are you getting back to your apartment?”

“Oh I have an uber coming in a little bit. I”m just going to wait here until they get here.”

“You want me to leave you here on the side of the road and drive away?” he questioned.

“No,” Y/N corrected, “I want you to leave me at the end of my dad’s driveway.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Spencer said definitively, “I’ll drive you or we could go back to my apartment and watch awful romcoms and start working on the mound of candy Rossi and Garcia got us.”

She blinked at him, “Really?”

“Yeah,” his movement suddenly became awkward and choppy, “I mean you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” Y/N smiled, “I’m just surprised. You spent the past five hours with me and my hyperactive brother and you want to hang out more?”

“I always want to spend time with you,” he said shyly.

“Sometimes I just forget that you’re you, Spence,” Y/N shook her head slightly and took a step closer to him.

“I hope that’s not a bad thing,” his eyes were slightly wider than usual.

“No, not at all. It’s the best thing actually,” Y/N smiled up at him, “And just so you know, I’d gladly spend every moment of every day with you.”

He looked down at her, not able to suppress the smile growing on his face.

“You know,” Spencer said, clearing his throat slightly, “Jack said something to me earlier and I didn’t know how to respond to him.”

“Oh gosh…” her voice faded into a slight chuckle.

“He was asking me all these questions about you. Like if we were friends and if I thought you were nice,” Spencer watched as Y/N glanced up at him, “I said yes to both of those… but then- then he asked if we were going to get married.”

Y/N’s lips let out a silent “oh.”

She blinked and glanced down at the ground momentarily, “What did you tell him?”

He scratched absently at the side of his head, “Well I wasn’t sure what to say so I told him maybe?”

Y/N’s face broke into a smile and near laugh, “You told him ‘maybe?’”

“I’m sorry I just didn’t know what to say. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, no,” she let out the rest of the laugh, “I just think we should go on a date before you start promising these kinds of things to my brother.”

Spencer blinked and swallowed before looking down at the ground, “Would you have said yes if I asked you out?”

“Yeah,” a soft smile settled on her lips, “I mean of course. Don’t tell Jack but you’re kind of my favorite person in the world.”

“Really?” his eyes settled on hers.

“What? Did you think I’d say no?” Y/N asked with genuine concern.

“I don’t know I just thought that it would make things difficult since we work together and-”

“Spence, hey, hey, stop it!” she said with a slight laugh.

A beat passed where she just looked at him.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Y/N smiled, “I just want to remember the moment right before I kiss you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly.

“Is that okay?”

He nodded not sure if she was referring to the moment or the kiss but it didn’t matter either way. She smiled up at him again, looking into his eyes and her hands moved up till they met behind his neck. After inhaling slightly, Y/N perched on her toes and gently pulled Spencer’s face down until their lips met each other.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #comfort fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagines

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Request for a F!reader who has experience. I noticed that a lot of the times they make it seem like the girl has negative experience and I just thought about how would they be with someone who has had boyfriends and girlfriends before and they were the ones who had less or no experience. Obviously some of them have made it clear that they have some but i thought it would be interesting to see it play out. Only if you can and want to❤️❤️

Thanks for the request! I would love to think that for everyone the experience isn't a factor, but appreciate that the culture is more conservative than I'm used to so my hc may be completely off.

Lookism with Experienced Reader S/O

Boy's reaction to S/O with previous romantic history

Insecure but trying to play it cool

Vasco: Oh... It's fine that you're not each other's first with everything. And Vasco guesses he's a bit of a late bloomer and has been married to Burn Knuckles. How far did you get with your previous partners? Just holding hands? No?! Further?! Oh... yeah, that's fine too...

Vin Jin: So what? He has lots of experience. Sort of. Uh... back in Cheongliang. You wouldn't know them. Why don't you just mind your own business! ... He's still the best looking, right?!

Samuel Seo: 'Cool' might be a stretch. Generally doesn't think anything of it, afterall he has been around... unless he is in one of moods. Who are they? Are they better than me?? Will snoop around until his ego is soothed.

Johan Seong: Lingers on his mind. Lashes out when he's feeling particularly childish or immature. It'll take him a while to get over it, and to be honest it's completely up to you whether you can put up with this pretty poor behaviour.

Insecure and healthy about it

Warren Chae: It's not your fault that you have experienced the normal highs and lows of romance. Warren just had other priorities. He doesn't mind playing catch up to be the perfect boyfriend.

Jace Park: It's fine, it's fine. You have to kiss a few frogs to meet your prince and luckily Jace is now here to treat you like a queen.

+ Daniel Park, Zack Lee

No feelings one way or another

Jake Kim: You're beautiful inside and out. Of course other parties would be interested, it's probably more surprising if you haven't had any romantic experience. Just tell him he's the funniest guy and he's all good.

Gun Park: Doesn't care. He's confident that he's stronger than any of your previous partners, and that's the only benchmark that matters.

DG: It would only matter if there's any potential scandal that could come out and could impact his reputation. DG loves you though. Would deal with any headlines or tabloids on your behalf.

+ Goo Kim, Ryuhei Kuroda, Xiaolong, Eli Jang, Jay Hong, Sinu Han

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thenightfolknetwork · 6 months

Note

Back when I was in school, I thought it'd be great fun to create an urban legend or local cryptid. I got some friends together, managed up some costumes, snuck out at night, wandered around looking creepy. And it was; great fun, that is. Sure we were all tired the next day whenever we did that, had weird scrapes and bruises from stumbling around in the dark, and at most we ever heard someone mention that they thought they saw "an animal" out where we were lurking; but we were out with friends, doing something we probably weren't supposed to do, we were young, it was wonderful.

We grew up, as tends to happen. We found more interesting things to do late at night. A bunch of us moved away, including myself. Gradually, we mostly lost touch with each other. I mean I could probably still contact all of them if I really needed to, it would just be awkward. I never mentioned those "adventures" to anyone, because as I got older, it just seemed more and more embarrassing, plus -- as I came to realize -- INCREDIBLY insensitive to the creature community. For the last few years, I've been trying to forget all about it.

Until recently. I was chatting with my mother on the phone, and she mentioned that in the past few weeks, there have been Sightings in the area. She'd never shared it before now, because it was just some minor local gossip, except she'd seen it herself the day before; just a glimpse, but what she described, it matched how we'd dressed up, how we'd moved, even the places we'd done "appearances" in.

My first rational thought was that maybe she'd known the whole time -- as a kid, you're a lot worse at being sneaky than you think you are -- and this was just a very time-delayed prank on me. But I looked into it, and it's not just her telling this to me; I won't bore you with the details, but if this is her prank on me, it's better planned and coordinated than most military operations.

There's three explanations I can think of. The first is that one of my friends has decided to start it up again, after all these years, for whatever reason; or they'd shared it with someone who decided to do the same. On the face of it, this would be easy to check, but that's not taking into account the crippling awkwardness that doing so would entail, plus I know for a fact that the person who'd be my best suspect for doing this, doesn't live within easy travel of the place any more. There's other reasons that make this option seem unlikely to me, but they involve personal details I'm not going to share.

The other possible explanations I can think of, are more up your alley. That either somehow a bunch of dumb kids managed to close-enough replicate what an actual being, that actually exists, is like, and now one of them is there, maybe as a coincidence, or maybe to find the "other one" (which never actually existed, because it was just us). Or that somehow, that same bunch of dumb kids managed to accidentally CREATE a being. To put it in the silliest possible way that my brain keeps repeating on endless loop, accidental catfishing or accidental parenthood.

Should I look into this further? Do I need to swallow the awkwardness and talk to the others? Come clean in public with what we'd done? (I don't think any of it was technically illegal, plus we were children at the time, but it would still be even more awkward than my current benchmark for 'extremely awkward'.) Is it none of my business? Should I start actively hiding any involvement? I go back there about once a year, to visit my parents, and it's a few months still before I'd be expected, so I have time, but I'd need to have a plan in place first.

First of all, reader, I'm glad to hear you have since come to understand how incredibly inappropriate and insensitive your actions were when you were a teenager. I hope young sapios today are a little better educated on the matter of treating liminal cultures and identities with respect, but I confess, it is not a particularly robust hope.

I hear your concerns that you and your friends may have participated in some kind of accidental manifestation. I think I can put those fears to bed. Bringing forth an entity through the power of imagination alone is an astonishingly difficult feat, and one which requires a great deal of concentration, dedication and, frankly, natural magical talent. It would be unusual to the point of near impossibility for a group of teenage pranksters to stumble their way through such a working without knowing it, and even more unlikely that the effects of that working should remain hidden for so long.

I think it equally unlikely that you somehow happened upon an accurate representation of an existing, but as yet unknown, genus. The creature community is vast and varied, and the chances of you managing to cobble together anything like an accurate representation of a genus you've never seen before seems highly unlikely.

However, there is always the possibility of… let us call it “suggestion”. When you think back to that period, is there anything you can remember that motivated you to design the costume as you did? If you can trace your inspiration directly to, say, a particular book or a certain film, then we can set this aside as a possibility.

But if at any point you felt your decisions were driven by something less tangible – if it felt as if “inspiration” had struck, and you moved by shared instinct, all seeming to strive for the same end without communicating that end to one another – then we might start to consider the possibility of external influence.

This could also explain why these sightings have started again. Rather than being a living creature suddenly coming out of hiding, this sudden apparition seems more likely to be another group of young sapios, subject to the same external influence as you and your friends were all those years ago, compelled to don the same costumes and cavort in the same places.

Quite why anyone or anything would be exerting psychic/phasmic influence to this end, I can't guess. There doesn't seem to be any harm in it, apart from inducing sapio teens into insensitive behaviour – and let's be honest, it's even odds they would have done that anyway. And in any case, I think this explanation falls firmly in the “none of your business” side of things.

I say, draw a line under the affair, and move on. Someone in your town may be playing silly buggers, but as an erstwhile silly bugger yourself, I'm sure you can allow them their bit of fun.

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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grogusmum · 11 months

Text

JULY: Buck Moon

Frankie Morales x gn!Reader (nicknamed Rocket)

W/C: 1200ish

RATED: M

WARNINGS: Smut, missionary, unprotected sex because it's fantasy. If I've inadvertently indicated gender please DM me and let me know, and as always if there is something I missed please let me know in my DMs and I will add it.

A/N: Here is the July installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023. Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms

This is a companion to my one shot Your Spot Okay, I should admit from the jump. This is not all that pagany. It’s smut. Sorry. But not really. Oops. I just, okay, this is what happened on Frankie Friday, I was thinking about him and Rocket. I also kind of got interested in the challenge of writing a smut for a gender neutral reader, if I could manage it. Fingers crossed.

“Why is it the Buck Moon?” Frankie wondered aloud, sitting by the fire in his camp chair, watching the full moon rise.

“It’s called that by some North American tribes, its also called the berry moon and salmon moon by others. Cuz it’s berry pickin time and like spawning season- you know how salmon are,” you laughed. "Anyway, it's the Buck moon because, you know how they drop their antlers each year… then new antlers grow and are bigger? July’s when the male deer’s antlers are at their peak size,” you explained as you held up two bottles of beer, "want one?”

Frankie nodded.

You sat, handing him the beer, he murmurs his thanks as you clinked the bottles together.

“Peak size you say?” Frankie said after taking a long pull from the bottle, his cocked eyebrow and smirk didnt go unnoticed.

You snorted a laugh.

You and he had decided to take it slow, but there were definitely times when putting on the breaks was getting more challenging, especially since you did so much camping together. There was a lot of necking and humping like teenagers. Since there was no benchmark either of you were waiting for, frankly, the question no one was asking but mostly definitely wondering at this point was why?

“Like it represents, virility … abundance… passion”

“So, mmmm what do people do?”

You swallowed, “well, you know we’re doin it. We caught fish and grilled it along with the veggies we picked from your garden- which is amazing. Did you know you had such a green thumb?”

Frankie tucked his beer in the little holder on the arm of the canvas chair. Then he took yours, and did the same, his warm hand came to your jaw, turning your face to his-

“What else might someone do?”

“Well, you know people … just try … to tap into that energy and you know start something new?”

Frankies lips pressed against yours to punctuate every word-

“Tap virility?”

“Yeah” you whispered after he pulled away infintesably.

“Tap passion?”

Your ‘mhm’ was swallowed by Frankie sealing his mouth to yours. When he pulled away he pulled you out of your chair, and ran his hands down your sides.

“Are we done waiting?”

“Yyyyeahh” you groaned.

As it was a perfect July night, you had planned to sleep under that moon and the stars, with no tent. So you both just tumbled onto your bedrolls. The clearing, your spot, was so protected, so out of the way that neither of you held any self-consciousness at pulling at each other's clothes until you were both completely undressed. The large moon shown on his body, his broad shoulders, and the slight curve of his belly. Sitting on his knees in front of you, your eyes traveled lower to the part of him you have only ever seen and felt through his clothes, above his strong thighs his length jutted proudly, to your mind perfect in size, with an enticing curve. You knelt before him, and when your eyes came back to his face, he wasn’t smug, though with your mouth hanging open, he probably had every right. He was busy looking at your body, fully naked for the first time in front of him. It was worshipful. When his eyes met yours, there was a question.

Am I enough?

You shuffled over to him, taking the forgotten ball cap off his head, and ran your fingers through his hair. Then, you climbed onto his lap. Caging his hips with your thighs, his hard shaft pressed against you made you both moan into each other's mouth. He gave an involuntary buck, and you gasped at the feeling.

“Which way do you want me,” you asked.

Frankie groaned at the question, and in a swift move, he had you on your back, your legs high for full access.

“I want to look at your face, Rocket,” he murmured, rutting up against your opening. “See you come undone, and you can see what you do to me.” His hands ran down your chest, then his teeth grazed one of your nipples, raising it. He licked his hand and brought it between your legs, preparing your entrance for him. A finger entered slowly, and then he pressed another into you as you whined at the stretch of his thick fingers.

“Shhhhit, Frankie.”

“Rocket, you- fuck, you feel good.”

His fingers slid in and out, languid and purposeful, and your breath quickened. Frankie watched you as he lined himself up and slowly pressed into you. The stretch was exquisite but not painful. Frankie had made sure of that. But it’s his eyes that had your chest heaving, those dark chestnut eyes, the crinkle that is almost permanently etched between his brows, searching for your face, for discomfort, for whatever else he can offer you. Full seated, he rested his forehead on yours, grinding his hips slow and deliberate. The way he does everything. Thoughtfully, with purpose. When you pushed back and it was like you flipped a switch, he began to piston into you, deep, hard. His hands on the back of your knees hold you legs high, opening you completely, you held on for dear life. His open mouth on your shoulders and neck.

“Gods Frankie don’t stop-” you gasped as delicious friction pushed you closer and closer to your peak, at that moment he tipped your hips just a bit more and hit your walls at a different angle and the next thrust sent fireworks behind your eyelids, toppling you over the edge. Frankie felt you tighten around him, and the warmth of your release. He let go of your legs and caged your torso holding you in place, grounding you.

You knew he was getting closer, his rhythm became erratic, until the rubberband within snapped. Frankie fell forward, covering you, murmuring your name, your real one, peppering you with kisses.

Finally, your breathing slowed, your heart beating at a restful pace -

"So, um, whadoya wanna do for the sturgeon moon?"

Frankie's shoulders quaked with silent laughter, and he rolled off you and onto his side, though his strong arm kept you close, tucked into his chest.

"Whatever you want, Rocket."

You both lay sleeping, in the early hours. In the night Frankie had rolled over and you took over as "big spoon", your arm wrapped around his ribcage, legs tucked behind his.

"Rocket," he murmured, patting your arm, his voice rough from sleep, " Rocket, ten o'clock."

Your eyes opened, and you muttered the words back to him in confusion.

"At ten o'clock, Rocket. Look," he whispered with urgency.

His words clicked, and you looked up, away from "twelve o'clock" and saw a twelve point buck in the clearing, morning mist surrounding him.

Your arm tightened around him, and his warm hand that covered yours squeezed in return.

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my Frankie stories or any of my writing you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

#wheel of the year series #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x you #year of creation 2023

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foreverlogical · 18 days

Text

It was a time of fear and chaos four years ago.

The death count was mounting as COVID-19 spread. Financial markets were panicked. Oil prices briefly went negative. The Federal Reserve slashed its benchmark interest rates to combat the sudden recession. And the U.S. government went on a historic borrowing spree—adding trillions to the national debt—to keep families and businesses afloat.

But as Donald Trump recalled that moment at a recent rally, the former president exuded pride.

“We had the greatest economy in history,” the Republican told his Wisconsin audience. “The 30-year mortgage rate was at a record low, the lowest ever recorded ... 2.65%, that’s what your mortgage rates were.”

The question of who can best steer the U.S. economy could be a deciding factor in who wins November’s presidential election. While an April Gallup poll found that Americans were most likely to say that immigration is the country's top problem, the economy in general and inflation were also high on the list.

Trump may have an edge over President Joe Biden on key economic concerns, according to an April poll by The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs. The survey found that Americans were more likely to say that as president, Trump helped the country with job creation and cost of living. Nearly six in 10 Americans said that Biden’s presidency hurt the country on the cost of living.

But the economic numbers expose a far more complicated reality during Trump's time in the White House. His tax cuts never delivered the promised growth. His budget deficits surged and then stayed relatively high under Biden. His tariffs and trade deals never brought back all of the lost factory jobs.

And there was the pandemic, an event that caused historic job losses for which Trump accepts no responsibility as well as low inflation—for which Trump takes full credit.

If anything, the economy during Trump's presidency never lived up to his own hype.

DECENT (NOT EXCEPTIONAL) GROWTH

Trump assured the public in 2017 that the U.S. economy with his tax cuts would grow at “3%,” but he added, “I think it could go to 4, 5, and maybe even 6%, ultimately.”

If the 2020 pandemic is excluded, growth after inflation averaged 2.67% under Trump, according to figures from the Bureau of Economic Analysis. Include the pandemic-induced recession and that average drops to an anemic 1.45%.

By contrast, growth during the second term of then-President Barack Obama averaged 2.33%. So far under Biden, annual growth is averaging 3.4%.

MORE GOVERNMENT DEBT

Trump also assured the public that his tax cuts would pay for themselves because of stronger growth. The cuts were broad but disproportionately favored corporations and those with extreme wealth.

The tax cuts signed into law in 2017 never fulfilled Trump's promises on deficit reduction.

According to the Office of Management and Budget, the deficit worsened to $779 billion in 2018. The Congressional Budget Office had forecasted a deficit of $563 billion before the tax cuts, meaning the tax cuts increased borrowing by $216 billion that first year. In 2019, the deficit rose to $984 billion, nearly $300 billion more than what the CBO had forecast.

Then the pandemic happened and with a flurry of government aid, the resulting deficit topped $3.1 trillion. That borrowing enabled the government to make direct payments to individuals and small businesses as the economy was in lockdown, often increasing bank accounts and making many feel better off even though the economy was in a recession.

Deficits have also run high under Biden, as he signed into law a third round of pandemic aid and other initiatives to address climate change, build infrastructure and invest in U.S. manufacturing. His budget deficits: $2.8 trillion (2021), $1.38 trillion (2022), and $1.7 trillion (2023).

The CBO estimated in a report issued Wednesday that the extension of parts of Trump’s tax cuts set to expire after 2025 would add another $4.6 trillion to the national debt through the year 2034.

LOW INFLATION (BUT NOT ALWAYS FOR GOOD REASONS)

Inflation was much lower under Trump, never topping an annual rate of 2.4%, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The annual rate reached as high as 8% in 2022 under Biden and is currently at 3.4%.

There were three big reasons why inflation was low during Trump's presidency: the legacy of the 2008 financial crisis, Federal Reserve actions, and the coronavirus pandemic.

Trump entered the White House with inflation already low, largely because of the slow recovery from the Great Recession, when financial markets collapsed and millions of people lost their homes to foreclosure.

The inflation rate barely averaged more than 1% during Obama's second term as the Fed struggled to push up growth. Still, the economy was expanding without overheating.

But in the first three years of Trump's presidency, inflation averaged 2.1%, roughly close to the Fed's target. Still, the Fed began to hike its own benchmark rate to keep inflation low at the central bank's own 2% target. Trump repeatedly criticized the Fed because he wanted to juice growth despite the risks of higher prices.

Then the pandemic hit.

Inflation sank and the Fed slashed rates to sustain the economy during lockdowns.

When Trump celebrates historically low mortgage rates, he's doing so because the economy was weakened by the pandemic. Similarly, gasoline prices fell below an average of $2 a gallon because no one was driving in April 2020 as the pandemic spread.

FEWER JOBS

The United States lost 2.7 million jobs during Trump's presidency, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. If the pandemic months are excluded, he added 6.7 million jobs.

By contrast, 15.4 million jobs were added during Biden's presidency. That's 5.1 million more jobs than what the CBO forecasted he would add before his coronavirus relief and other policies became law—a sign of how much he boosted the labor market.

Both candidates have repeatedly promised to bring back factory jobs. Between 2017 and the middle of 2019, Trump added 461,000 manufacturing jobs. But the gains began to stall and then turned into layoffs during the pandemic, with the Republican posting a loss of 178,000 jobs.

So far, the U.S. economy has added 773,000 manufacturing jobs during Biden's presidency.

Campaign Action

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kaidanworkshop · 9 months

Text

Workshop Progress: Post Summer Update

Hello Workshop followers! We've been hard at work over the last few weeks separating and voting on the second set of lines from our VA, as well as completing another commissionship session with Mr. Warren this past Sunday. While usually we feature the work being completed by all three teams separately, we'll be summarizing the current state of the mod in a single long post for this update; as we approach the finish line in wrapping up the framework rebuild, more and more of our staff are working with the CK & Assets team to assist with build testing and finalizing various features.

So firstly, the benchmarks we're most proud of:

All assets have officially been replaced with high texture models! Everything from Kaidan's physical appearance, to his armor and weapons, to the little cherry tree you can marry him under, have been updated.

The CK & Assets Team have completed their rebuild on all but two quest frameworks -- specifically for his personal quest 'Blood and Fire' and his Mehrunes Dagon quest commentary. Our nickname, pronoun, and outfit systems are all functional as well. All of these quests are now ready for line implementation and beta testing.

As of our most recent VA session, we are officially over 50% done with the total script revoice, with 836 lines out of the original 1400 projected lines recorded. The final total of lines will fluctuate a bit to accommodate the extra lines being added for the aforementioned new systems, as well as the new platonic Autumnwatch acquisition route, but it shouldn't be by very much. We will update the community with a final total in a future 'community receipt' post detailing our full business expenditures.

We continue to operate solidly under budget! Using the formula outlined in our budget breakdown post, we have enough money for approximately 7 1/2 hours of Mr. Warren's services ($1885/$250), but the remaining scripts should be completed in approximately 5 hours. As we get closer to our final sessions with Mr. Warren and the final total for that budget surplus becomes more concrete, we will be able to hash out the details of what else the community can vote to have added in the 1.0 launch. You can read about a few of those ideas here, but feel free to submit your own ideas via our inbox or on our Discord.

So what's next on our plate?

Completing the last of the framework rebuild

Continued line implementation as voting and splicing permits, as well as necessary subtitle corrections and emotive animations to match the new lines

Staff bug and beta testing to tweak new system functionality, as well as editorial reviews by the Writing Team to tweak in-game journal updates and other miscellaneous text

Finalization of new dialogue for acquisition of Autumnwatch

Scheduling our final 2 - 3 VA sessions (woo!)

Getting distracted by Baldur's Gate 3

Our Community Team will be setting up another series of livestreams to feature lines from our third commission in the coming weeks. This round of scripts included his commentary on the main quest & factions (College of Winterhold, the Companions, etc), the dialogue associated with gifting him books and having him read some of them back, as well as his personal quest involving Shadowgreen Cavern.

Thank you again for all of your continued interest and support!

#kaidan 2 #kaidanworkshop #kaidan skyrim #custom voice follower skyrim #skyrim kaidan #custom voiced follower #tes v skyrim

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umgeorge · 3 months

Text

george russell is interviewed during the press conference, saudi arabia - march 6, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, why don't we start with you? Mercedes were difficult to read at the pre-season test, and it feels they were a little bit difficult to read at the first race weekend, as well. What conclusions did you draw from the Bahrain Grand Prix?" George: "I think the conclusions we drew were the car has potential. I think when we saw the pace on FP2, that was genuine. Lewis and I had P1 and P2. I think probably not everybody turned up, but we were genuinely fast. And then in the race we had some really big cooling issues that caught us by surprise, and we know there's at least a fifteen second loss just in the battery and the power, and probably more after you consider the effect it had on the tires. And just an extra couple of seconds in stint one, when I had Checo beind me, would have been pretty handy, so I think we'd have been in the fight for P2, for the podium, with Checo and Carlos, but definitely we didn't show our true potential." Interviewer: "Were those cooling issues a simple miscalculation, or something that actually needs a fix?" George: "I think it was definitely a miscalculation. It would have been quite straightforward to just open the bodywork very slightly and make things much easier, but we don't know how we fell into that place… Sorry, I'm just distracted by Charles walking in." [laughs] Interviewer: "Charles. Welcome!" Leclerc: "Sorry." George: "Yeah, lost my groove now. [laughs] No, but we don't really understand why, because we didn't change anything from testing-in FP2, as well-and it suddenly caught us out on Saturday, so I'm sure it'll be better this weekend." Interviewer: "I was gonna say, are you worried about it this weekend? George: "We need to get on top of it, and we've got some tests tomorrow to try and understand further what happened." Interviewer: "Alright. Thank you, George." [time jump] Journalist: "Nelson Valkenburg, Viaplay, for George: F1 media, everybody, is obsessed with the possibility of is Max going to Mercedes. How would you feel if a driver who had some choice words for you a year ago would join the team?" George: [laughs] "Yeah, I think… As I said last week in Bahrain, this is my third season now alongside Lewis, greatest driver of all time, and I feel like I've done a pretty good job alongside him, so whoever were to line up alongside me next year or the years to come, I welcome anybody, welcome the challenge. You always wanna go against the best, but ultimately, for me, just focused on myself. I believe in myself, I believe I can beat anybody on the grid, and you just got to have that mentality, so as I said, having Lewis as my benchmark for the last couple of years has been a pretty good benchmark, for sure." [time jump]

Journalist: "But what chance, George? What chance is Max Verstappen really going to Mercedes? From the inside, could you see it happening? 'Cause it would be perobably the biggest story since your current teammate signed for Ferrari." George: "I think any team want to have the best driver line-up possible and right now Max is the best driver on the grid, so if any team had a chance to sign Max they would 100% be taking it. So I think the question's more on the other side, on his side, and on Red Bull's side. Obviously so much going on there. We don't know what truly's going on behind closed doors and ultimately it's none of our business right now. Yeah, I guess it would be exciting." [time jump] (NOT SHOWN:) Journalist: "David Croft, Sky Sports F1. You all did 57 laps. Everyone did 57 laps, apart from those that were lapped, on Saturday in Bahrain. You all went into the race optimistic, I'm sure, because it was the first race of the season. How was your optimism levels at the checkered flag? That's to all of you." George: "I think after three days of testing everybody knows Bahrain pretty well. It all panned out as we probably expected, but obviously we all hope that the field tightens up a little bit right at the front. But the fight behind Max, I think, is really, really tight and it's gonna be quite exciting, between ourselves, Ferrari, Aston, and McLaren." [time jump] (NOT SHOWN:) Journalist: "Diego Mejia, Fox Sports Mexico. Both Charles and George, about the issues you had with the cooling, with the brakes and the power unit, is that a worry here? Was it probably the changing conditions in Bahrain that caused that, that we had probably the lowest temperature before the race started and then it was increasing over the race weekend?" George: "Yeah, similar to Charles, it was definitely a bit of an odd one for us, but we're confident we're on top of it and won't face the same issue this weekend."

#george russell #f1 #formula 1 #saudi arabian gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #saudi arabia #saudi arabia 2024 #saudi arabia 2024 wednesday #yuki tsunoda #charles leclerc #valtteri bottas #lance stroll #nico hulkenberg #tw max #with lewis

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sashimiyas · 2 years

Text

Atsumu calls his brother almost every night and purposefully says something stupid so he can hear his proper name.

"Tsumu, you fucking idiot."

Even an insult is a gift just to feel like himself again because he's long accepted he'd journey a road without Samu, but never did he realize that this change would result in a new identity as well.

Miya, he's called by his new teammates. Miya, he's greeted, when he holds the building door for his neighbors. Miya Atsumu, they introduce at the beginning of an interview.

Atsumu does not know how to bear the weight of his name. It almost feels like a benchmark, something both he and his brother bear. He should find solace in it but instead it feels exclusionary. He watches the way his brother carries the branding on his chest, placed near and dear to his heart while Atsumu burdens the weight of it on his back.

It’s Miya who falters on the unstable footing of a future he’s never imagined. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, lost in a dream that no longer feels romantic.

Tsumu had been a dreamer, ambitious and excited for a future he was ready to take hold of. Miya lays awake at night imagining something that could have been.

He finds himself sluggish in his steps, downtrodden as he spends more time in the mornings walking with his hands in the pockets of his track jacket instead controlling his breath on a run. He looks down at his feet, watching his step, wary to stumble, until one day he finds himself in a coffee shop.

It’s bustling with people whose eyes are forward and confident in who they are and filled with others whose eyes cannot be kept from a screen, whose lives are consumed by a position that they must be passionate about.

He’s weaving through a crowd who have made names for themselves, called upon after the hollow sound of a paper cup placed on a table. He remembers mornings novel in Tokyo with his teammates and brother and captain. Straws that had met multiple lips as they shared each other’s drinks and heavy yawns accompanied with shoulder leans before a tournament. He thinks of the past and is comforted so Atsumu finds himself in line, pointing at the menu to something that sounds mildly interesting.

“What’s your name?”

He finally looks at you at that, mussed hair from a rush that’s obviously been busy but still, you give him an amicable smile. The tip of your sharpie is flush against the paper cup and saturates the surface with a large, black splotch.

You raise a brow, a small tilt to your head and it reminds him that he still needs to answer.

“Tsumu,” he says without a thought.

“Tsumu,” you say back with a smile. Something erupts in his throat, a small sob that the din of the cafe obscures, “is it your first time here?”

It is his first, but he comes back. Every morning to the sound of his name called upon by your lips, until one day, he accepts Miya.

Miya that is shared, between you and him, and upon a stable future that he looks forward to.

#reina.writeshaikyuu!!#haikyuu angst #something during the last few weeks of school!#pls if you guys read any cool fics at this time send them to me #i’m gonna miss out and i don’t wanna!#i love atsumu btw #i know i use him as a device a lot of express my love for osamu but i love atsumu as himself too #he’s so good to me

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Text

The Boy in the Window 12 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: The Boxing Match and the Aftermath

Notes: Part 12 already... I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Mentions of domestic abuse. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 3714

Part 12

[Previously]

(Y/N) pretended not to notice, but soon it became unfeasible to ignore and almost impossible to bear.

The closer the date came, the more nervous Tommy got and like a disease it infected her too, creeping in under her skin and spreading its icy shadows inside her. All she could do was to try and keep it contained and away from the children.

Why on earth he had decided to organise a boxing match was beyond her- well, not exactly.

She knew he was bored, despite the fear, despite the terror. All of it still wasn't enough to fully occupy that mind of his, that had gotten stuck halfway between genius and insanity.

Thomas Shelby had bought another race horse, begun to distil gin in grand proportions, dealt with the strikes and negotiated with the workers, had expanded the foundation but all that hadn’t been enough, so now, he had organised a boxing match.

But the closer it got, the longer the silent periods grew, the more his eyes sought to spy something in the distance, something neither she nor the children could see.

Food remained mostly untouched, and only smoke seemed to pass his lips in absence of words.

All of these little signs seemed to amount to a wall he had built around himself and his thoughts, separating him from the rest of the world, from them.

But while his mind and words sought to push them away, his body did the opposite. He was displaying that same need for attachment she had experienced before, in the days and especially the night leading up to the trap and the shootout at Artillery Square with Luca Changretta and that was what frightened her.

Tommy Shelby became clingy, in his own, distant way.

He wouldn't talk, nor engage with her in any way apart from holding onto her hand as if he feared he'd drift off in the vast, stormy sea of his thoughts if he let go of her for a single second.

During the day, work and the children distracted her, but during the nights, this contrast grew ever more apparent.

Some times, some nights, he'd reach for her with everything but his words- with his hands, his lips, his body.

There, she could feel the desperation in his touch- not for release, otherwise he would have just turned his back once it was over.

It was the opposite really- holding her hand would turn into an embrace, embraces would turn to kisses, and kisses into more. Somehow, it all was an inevitability with him and she let him.

Afterwards, he'd lean into her, his arms still wrapped around her waist and holding onto her as if he feared she'd vanish if he didn't.

It merely added to the storm of confusion raging inside her, which only eased up when the children kept her busy, but it never cleared fully, no matter what.

Their game of the day was throwing a ball up against the wall of the courtyard and trying to clap as many times as possible before catching it again.

She only hoped they wouldn't accidentally smash a window.

Currently, they were desperately trying to break the benchmark six, when she heard a knock on the door.

Drying her hands on her apron, as she took it off, (Y/N) approached.

She knew that no one would have come anywhere near her house unless approved by the Peaky Blinders but she glanced out all the same.

In the absence of context, she had to take a moment to recognise the woman in front.

But when her lips tightened in disapproval, she remembered the gaze from Charlie's birthday and opened the door for the wife of Arthur Shelby.

"Mrs. Shelby.", She greeted.

Saying it, without seeing a tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed woman in front of her felt more than strange. It felt wrong.

She returned the greeting with the sweetest smile.

"May I come in?", She asked.

(Y/N) stepped back and led her to the living room, making sure to pick up the toys Emma and Charlie had left.

She hadn't been expecting guests, or any one really, apart from Tommy, and so she hadn't tidied up.

The other woman didn't seem to be in a rush, as she turned on her heels, inspecting anything and everything her blue eyes could reach.

"Would you like some tea?", She asked, hoping she would decline.

Of course, she didn't.

When (Y/N) returned, she found her standing at the window, looking out at the courtyard where the children were playing.

"They seem to like each other.", Linda Shelby said, unable to hide her surprise.

"Yes."

Mostly at least, and whatever childish quarrel they had was easily squashed.

"How curious.", Linda mused.

(Y/N) didn't agree in the slightest, but she kept her words to herself.

"Sugar?", She asked, as she poured.

The blonde woman nodded.

"A second spoon, please.", She asked, batting her eyelashes, but only once (Y/N) had already been ready to pour.

So she had to set it down again, open the lid of the little sugar box and add a second spoon.

"Arthur says you used to live here when all of you were still children.", She said, glancing at the pictures.

"I did."

She hummed and took a sip of tea.

"And you are still here."

(Y/N) set her cup down and tilted her head as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, thankful that the children were outside.

"Again, not still.", She corrected. "After my husband's death, I moved back in with my brother."

His arms had been the safety net she fell into, the only safety net remaining to her.

Before too long, she had become his nurse.

It wasn't easy seeing him go, but when he went, they both were somewhat relieved. He had taken the wound in France, but it had taken years for it to kill him and by that time, he had long made his peace with death and was glad only to be rid of the pain.

"I suppose it is lucky,", Linda continued, stirring the already dissolved sugar.

"For Tommy I mean."

She smiled again, but the wrinkles next to her eyes were a little too pronounced for her to believe it.

"Hm.", (Y/N) said.

"Truly, it couldn't be more convenient,", she said, "someone to watch his son, someone he knows from before and trusts who is able and willing to help him and take care of his needs- and all in arm's reach."

She smoothed down the fabric of her skirt, glad to have something that occupied both her hands and her eyes.

Still, it didn't do anything to prevent the heat that rose in her cheeks.

But she still wasn't finished.

"You must know, we are all very grateful to you, (Y/N)- you don't mind me calling you that, do you, (Y/N)?"

Linda Shelby didn't wait for an answer.

"We know Tommy is far from easy to endure, especially with that temper of his,"

She smacked her lips and reached for one of the biscuits with pointed fingers.

As she broke it apart, a few crumbs landed on her dress, which she quickly brushed off onto the floor.

"We are glad you're helping him take the edge off.”

Leaning over, she gave her hand a little squeeze.

“I want you to know, we appreciate your effort."

Do you now?

(Y/N) felt rather faint at her words, but she did nothing to deny them.

She just tried to take deep breaths and not let anything show.

"But that's not why I came here today.", Linda mused. "No, not at all."

"No?", She asked, raising her eyebrow.

"You're surely not going to the boxing match, are you?"

(Y/N) shook her head, slightly surprised that a good, Christian woman as Linda Shelby was diligent to remind everyone she was, would seek entertainment in two men hurting each other.

"Well, I have naturally been invited.", She announced, "and since you are the one watching the children, I'll be dropping off William at six."

"Will you?"

With a smile she nodded as she unclasped her shiny leather purse, a Parisian model, and pulled forth a folded piece of paper.

"Here's a list of instructions. They should be simple enough for you to follow."

She held them out to (Y/N) and when she didn't take it out of her hand, she raised her eyebrow.

"Any questions?", She wanted to know, her voice as sweet and bright as silver bells.

Sometimes there were no words.

Sometimes she did not know how to voice her desperate pleas, her fleeting hopes, the chaos in her heart and mind.

Tonight was one of these nights where all she could do was clasp her hands tighter and hope that the turmoil she felt was able to reach someone who could help her- that her mental repetition of 'please' was enough.

Her head snapped up when she felt the door handle turn.

Tommy entered, his jacket already over his arm, halfway prepared to get ready for bed.

Once he realised what he had interrupted, he froze.

(Y/N) felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she stared up at him, mirroring his uncertainty.

"I can go and wait outside.", He offered, shifting on his feet.

The damage was done now, and besides, it wasn't like she had reinvented the Lord's Prayer tonight with her incoherent babbling.

So she sighed and shook her head.

Looking up at the crucifix over her bed, (Y/N) made the sign of the cross and rose, feeling the ache in her knees as she got up.

Then, she took off her robe and placed it on the hanger before slipping under the covers.

Once she had granted her permission for him to enter, Tommy walked towards the chair in the corner of the room.

"You don't have to, you know?", Tommy said. "With Billy."

One hand rubbed his temple as the other undid the buttons of his vest. He shrugged it off and placed it over the jacket before undoing his tie.

The silk hissed as he pulled it froth from under the collar.

She hadn't told him, but he had found out anyway- from Arthur perhaps.

"Someone has to watch them. I already told Ada I'd watch Karl so it wouldn't have been right to turn Linda down."

Once the first buttons of his shirt had been undone he took a deep breath and let his head drop back.

"Alright.", He sighed.

"Is it, Tommy?", She asked, watching him sit there with his eyes closed.

He looked so exhausted (Y/N) thought he might fall asleep right then and there.

"Because I can't shake the feeling that something awful will happen- that you think something awful will happen."

He opened his eyes again, staring over to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, his collar undone, tie, vest and jacket gone.

Then he frowned and tilted his head.

"What were you praying for, eh?", He wanted to know, sounding more like disbelief than suspicion, as if she had presented him with some curiosity.

His simple, short, soft spoken question set her face ablaze, as if she was some insolent child and in a way, she was.

"For things to be alright.", She admitted.

His eyes met hers for but a moment, and then she quickly glanced away.

But it wasn't fast enough to hide the truth from him, not nearly.

"There's no point in praying."

Still he sounded so detached, which was somehow infinitely worse than if he had said it in anger or spite.

And that cut deeper than it should have.

(Y/N) had a long list of reasons to give him, some selfless, some selfish, but she bit her tongue.

They weren't hers to say.

Today had been a reminder for her - a harsh one, yes, but one she seemed to need to bring her back to reality.

"Well for me there is.", She snapped- or tried to snap. Instead it came out as something in between a whisper and a sniffle, only adding to her shame.

(Y/N) turned her attention to the ceiling and closed her eyes, listening to the whispers of the fabric as he began to unbutton his shirt.

And then it stopped.

(Y/N) could hear his breaths, but what gave him away was the feeling of his eyes on her, burning through her skin into the depth of her mind.

Without opening her eyes she turned on the bed, facing the wall- for now. As soon as he'd settle, she would turn the other way.

His footsteps were incredibly light, almost inaudible if it weren't for the creaking floorboards.

Then the noise stopped, before he had the chance to walk around the bed.

When the bed dipped her heart began to thunder. It had dipped on her side and not his, and she felt his hip press into her back.

Then, his fingers found the back of her head and began to stroke her hair away, exposing her neck to him.

His touch was so light and fleeting, she felt the warmth more than his fingers.

Still, she didn't react, at least in no way he could see, as she closed her hands into a fist under the blanket.

He braced himself with one hand on the other side of her, trapping her between him as he bent down and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Unlike the touch before, it wasn't fleeting.

Unlike the touch before, he allowed his lips to linger.

His hands found her neck again, stroking over the delicate skin in the way he had grown used to knowing how sensitive that part of her body was- how pliable to his touch.

When the tingling began to spread beyond the places he touched, she shifted, rolling onto her back and opening her eyes, before she realised the mistake.

Quickly, she tried to blink away the unshed tears before he saw them, all the while knowing that his own eyes were too sharp to miss it.

She found him sitting on the side of her bed, one hand close to her waist, the other still stroking the side of her face.

It only stilled when he saw the look in her eyes.

"I shouldn't have said that.", He muttered.

Instead of responding, she only sighed.

(Y/N) wasn't in the mood to argue, too tired and too worn out after everything.

And for what?

Charlie was young enough to believe her, but no one could convince a grown man to change his ways. She wouldn't waste what little energy she had left in a futile attempt.

Tommy Shelby didn't take her silence well.

Instead his eyes seemed to widen with worry as his thumb began to stroke over her temple once more.

When he realised she neither tried to stop him nor turned away, he leaned in, but hesitated before his lips could brush against hers.

She knew what he was doing and if she had been any stronger she would have pushed him away.

But she wasn't. She was weak- he made her weak.

And so he kissed her, not her temple or her forehead but her lips.

He kissed her slowly, cautiously, and by instinct (Y/N) kissed him back. Once she had, he leaned further into the kiss, seeking out to capture hers with his.

And (Y/N) stil kissed him back.

His right hand left her head, running down the side of her body until they settled at her waist, his fingers coiling in the fabric of her nightgown, dragging it up her legs.

Her breath hitched as his hand found her bare skin. She did not know if it was her hand that brought his knee up or her knee that brought his hand up, only that his fingers tightened around it.

When he kissed a line down her neck, she took a shuddering breath, but Tommy being Tommy knew exactly where to find her most sensitive spot and sucked.

A gasp escaped her lips, but then her hands found the back of his head, feeling first the roughness of the shorter strands and the softness of the hair he didn't cut short.

"Tommy-", she whispered, pulling his head away so she could look at him.

"Tommy, what are you doing?"

Between her words, a plea lay hidden, but he did not hear it.

He sat up, his hand still on her knee, that familiar shine in his eyes, his usually pale lips gaining colour.

"What do you think?", He asked, shifting back. There was a slightest hint of a smirk on his lips as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, then to the inside of her thighs, and upward once more.

(Y/N) closed her eyes and leaned back into her pillow.

It wasn't what she meant- not even close.

What are you doing in my bed…in my arms…Tommy - please - tell me what you are going.

And most importantly- why

But she knew she wouldn't get an answer, even if she got him to listen to her, and yet at the same time she didn't need him to spell out what she already knew.

Ada had arrived with thank yous and kind words, Linda with a long list of requirements and demands as they each left their son in her care.

Karl, more than halfway to seven years old now, wasn't at all fussed to be spending the evening away from his mother.

William, barely one, was a different story. He was at that age where familiar faces made all the difference, and it was difficult to settle him at first, not without lots of rocking and coos.

Finally, after at least two hours, he accepted her and stopped crying in her arms.

The sofa dipped, she turned to find Charlie climbing up beside her. Without another word, he leaned his head into her side.

"Careful.", She told him, "I'm holding the baby."

He glanced at his cousin in her arms and frowned.

"Why do you have to hold him all the time?", He wanted to know, wrinkling his nose.

"Because little babies just need to be held more than big boys like you."

Charlie huffed and began to let his legs sway.

"I'm not that big.", He argued after a while. "Emma's taller than me and Karl too."

(Y/N) shifted the baby carefully so that she could reach out and stroked over his hair.

"But you're bigger than Billie."

He grumbled and leaned into her touch.

"Still."

Before she had a chance to pull her hand back, he wrapped his arms around hers, clutching it to his chest.

"Charlie?", Emma asked, appearing in the doorway. "Come play!"

Karl came up behind her and as soon as he appeared, Charlie's expression changed.

"No.", He said with unusual sharpness.

"Why not?", Emma wanted to know, coming closer. "Karl says we can play cowboys! He knows all about cowboys."

Karl nodded eagerly but Charlie kept his resolve.

"He doesn't have to come play if he doesn't want to, Emma.", (Y/N) reminded her softly.

"You can join whenever.", She offered, before disappearing back through the door with Karl.

"I won't.", Charlie hissed under his breath, making her eyebrow rise.

"And why is that?", She asked.

Instead of answering, he dropped his head and pouted.

(Y/N) began to stroke over the back of his head, which made him soften soon enough.

"Everyone acts like we're supposed to be friends. But he's not my friend.", Charlie hissed.

"He's your cousin."

He only shrugged.

"I don't like the way he talks - it's weird…"

"That's because he lived in America.", She reminded him.

"Why can't he go there now? We don't need him here. And not the baby too. It's too crowded."

He stretched out the last word and threw his head back against the sofa in dramatic fashion.

"They are just here for tonight. I think we can manage that, don't you?"

"Only tonight?", He asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her.

"Only tonight.", She promised.

"Then they leave?"

She nodded, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

He still stayed by her side until she changed Billy for the last time and put him down on his cot.

As she checked in Emma and Karl who were still playing cowboys with little figurines, Charlie slipped his hand into hers, but he didn't want to join their game.

"Billy's asleep now.", He told her as he climbed into her lap, the hint of a grin on his lips that he failed to hide from her.

"I know."

"That means I'm the littlest now."

(Y/N) knew where this was headed and couldn't help her own smile, even if it stung a little, as Charlie snuggled into her embrace.

Clasping her face with his hands, he stroked her cheek gently, the way she did with him or Emma.

Then he leaned up and pressed a kiss to her forehead the way he had seen her do with him and Emma countless times before.

Only then, did he lean his head against her chest.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, knowing he liked it more than Emma ever had.

It wasn't that Emma hated being held, she just came and went impatiently, while Charlie despised any and every cause that made him stray from her embrace.

"When are they leaving?", He asked, his voice slightly muffled against her chest. His fingers had begun to play with the small cross she wore on a chain around her neck.

It was usually hidden under layers of clothes but his curiosity had fished it out once and ever since either her cross, the clasp of her watch, the buttons of her dress or the edge of her sleeve became a toy for him to occupy his fingers with.

"When their mums come to pick them up."

"And until their mums pick them up, they are staying here?"

"Yes.", She affirmed.

Charlie lifted his head to look at her.

"So they'll only go if their mum comes to pick them up?"

(Y/N) confirmed it once more, although she didn't understand where he was going with it.

But her answer seemed to please Charlie greatly as snuggled back into her.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, glad that he couldn't sense the burning in her eyes.

She tried to make note of it all- the smell of his hair, the softness of his hands as they wrapped themselves around her waist, the weight of his head against her chest and the slight strain in her arms.

With William asleep in the cot next to her armchair in the living room so she could keep an eye on him, and Emma and Charlie in their beds while Karl borrowed hers, it was just her and the baby downstairs.

Her, the baby and all those people mounted on the mantelpiece and she knew they were watching.

Don't you judge me, she thought. I don't deserve your judgement.

Besides, she judged herself just fine.

David would have given her hell for it, Edith would have been caught somewhere between shock and confusion- not unlike (Y/N). But it was her husband's picture her eyes lingered on.

She sighed, leaning back against the pillows and watching him.

It was the only picture she had of him, the one so many people had.

The government had called it a kindness, to allow every man doomed to serve to take a picture for his family to keep - in full uniform and standing to attention.

She had met him after the war, so the man in the frame was a stranger to her in more ways than one.

He did not look like her husband. His hair was too short, his chest not broad enough, his skin too pale.

He had never been the most beautiful of men, but he had been honest and kind and she had grown to love him.

When they had married, she had seen their whole life in front of them- a house full of children, chickens in the garden, a dog maybe. It wouldn't have been much but it would have been enough for her, more than enough.

Those dreams had charred and crumbled, turned to dust in her hands and left nothing but black marks on her soul.

She knew she should be ashamed.

Any good woman would be, after taking another man to bed, especially a man like that. But she wasn't. Not anymore.

(Y/N) knew she would have to pay for that, eventually. But she didn't feel shame or even regret, not even when she looked at his picture.

If he hadn't died, none of this would have happened to her. She'd be away in the country with Emma, maybe even a sibling or two for her, happy, healthy- safe.

But then I never would have met Charlie.

It was a selfish, foolish thought that made her heart clench.

She had no right to the boy…none at all.

And yet she knew it was too late for lectures like that.

The damage was already done.

The commotion at the door made her head snap up, tearing her from her thoughts.

First, there was banging that made her heart sink, then voices and finally a key in the lock. Only to reveal Linda Shelby.

She was dressed in a gorgeous pale evening gown- right from the pages of one of these shiny illustrated magazines, laced with pearls and sparkling stones.

Her bare shoulders were covered with pale fur and in her hair shimmered a diamond clasp.

She paid her brother in law no mind as she pushed past him, then her, seizing her child. Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran.

"What's going on?", (Y/N) demanded to know, as Tommy stormed towards the kitchen and right out without another word.

Ada was dressed just as glamorous as Linda had been, with shiny fabrics and shinier jewels, her lips painted red- like a grand dame. She looked like she belonged in the movies and not in Small Heath.

But her eyes were red too and wet with tears.

"They snuck in.", She said, her voice trembling. "Arthur's dead."

(Y/N)'s mouth dropped open.

"Oh Ada, I am so sorry.", She whispered breathlessly, opening her arms.

For the first time in nearly two decades, Ada leaned into her touch, her hands clinging to her back.

She held her tightly, feeling her shudder in her embrace, like a leaf in the wind.

Like she had done when the shouting in the house on Watery Lane grew too loud, when her fear grew to big, when she had run out in the night to hide with her so that she wouldn't have to stay and be witness.

Never, never ever would (Y/N) Hale forget that one horrid night when Ada and her had been but five - Charlie's age, she remembered with a shudder. It was that night that Tommy had stood up to his father for the very first time. That was all Ada told her, curled up in her bed, her wide eyes staring out towards the other house.

They hadn't seen Tommy for weeks after that, as apparently Polly took him on the road.

That night was the only night Ada had clung to her, and now she did so again.

Brave, bold Ada Shelby shook and all (Y/N) could do was hold her, trying to banish those memories, and fight the ache in her own heart, which remembered the pain the other woman felt all too well.

There were no words she could say to ease this agony, to mend that shattered heart.

From behind the mantle piece Edith glanced at her, giving her an almost knowing look.

When Ada let go, she wiped her face with her sleeves, but the tears kept coming.

"It's alright. I'm alright.", She lied. "I'll just fetch Karl. Thank you for watching him."

(Y/N) stepped aside and watched Ada climb the stairs, a quaking hand clutching the bannister so tightly her knuckles turned white.

But before her sparkling dress had a chance to disappear from view, (Y/N) turned her back.

The cold night air hit her in the face as she stepped out into the small courtyard, icy fingers finding their way through the fabric of her clothes, and -like fear- settled in every part of her body.

The first time she glanced around, she did not see him and had already thought that he must have entered the house on Watery Lane.

Something inside her told her to look a second time and so she did.

Thomas Shelby was sitting on one of the barely knee high boxes, his pale eyes staring out at something she could not see.

"Tommy?", She asked softly.

Her footsteps echoed through the night as she approached him with the same caution she had all those years ago.

Only back then he had been drunk and erratic, pacing and mumbling to himself.

Now, she couldn't even be sure he was still breathing.

Even as she came into view, he didn't react.

Only when (Y/N) crouched down in front of him and cupped his face, did he allow his eyes to close.

"I am so sorry.", She whispered, stroking her thumb over his cheek.

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, taking a deep breath.

When he got up, she came with him, just in time for him to lean into her embrace.

"Oh Tommy."

Her hand found the back of his head, her fingers trying to draw calming circles. Unlike his sister, Tommy didn't shake, didn't even tremble. He was completely still in her arms, as if he had been frozen.

And that made her stomach turn.

"Come inside, Tommy.", She told him. "It's too cold for you to be out here. Please come inside."

He shook his head, his eyes still wide and gleaming.

"You need to warm yourself up.", She tried again, her voice growing more desperate.

"I need to think.", He hissed.

No, (Y/N) thought, that's the last thing you need.

Her hand found his and laced her fingers with his.

"You need to rest.", She assured him, but he didn't budge.

He only stood there and stared.

Then his lips began to move, but the words he said only unsettled her more.

"I need to talk to Arthur."

She remembered the turn in Mrs. Shelby, decades ago when she had begun to talk to spirits, when she had hosted seances to contact those no longer among them.

The reddish lights from behind drawn curtains and the smoke had scared her, but the chanting had terrified her to the core.

"No.", She begged, shaking her head.

"No, Tommy, please!"

Her hands clasped his face and turned it so that he would look at her.

"I know you're hurt, but you can't…you can't start like this. Please-"

Her voice broke but she did not look away.

She couldn't let him go down that road- it wasn't right, it just wasn't right!

Those that talked to the dead would inevitably lose contact with the living and she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let him slip away.

"Think of Charlie. You can't do that to him. You can't!"

Tommy stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before speaking.

"Arthur's alive."

(Y/N) shook her head, as her eyes began to burn.

She could feel his sanity run through her fingers.

But the harshest thing was that it didn't surprise her.

Tommy and Arthur had always been different, in appearance, speech and mannerism but they were brothers- the kind of brothers that were only whole when together. Which meant he wouldn't ever be whole again.

His hands clasped her face to steady her shaking head.

"(Y/N), Arthur's alive.", He said once more. "They nearly got him but he's alive. I came in time. They think he's dead, but he's alive."

She searched for the glint in his eyes, for a mad smile, but he was deadly serious.

"Tommy-", she whimpered. "Tommy, if this is true-"

"It is true.", He insisted and she almost believed him.

"Then we have to tell Ada."

She had already turned back towards the house when his hands grabbed her wrists, pulling her back until she crashed into him.

"No!", He hissed, holding her hands to his chest. "No, nobody must know. Nobody can know."

"But Tommy-"

"Promise me!", He insisted, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Promise me, (Y/N). Nobody must know if…-"

He broke off.

"If? If what, Tommy?", She demanded to know.

He closed his eyes as he leaned into her. If he had stood even a step away she wouldn't have caught his next words.

"If I am to end this."

End of Part 12

Part 13

I plan on posting every two days but on making altering posts from now on so that it's not just this series. On Friday, there will be a Tommy X Reader one shot.

Thank you so much for reading, I can't wait to hear your thoughts

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108garys · 1 month

Text

Manny Sherman dialogue transcribed

I really enjoyed transcribing the little hope puritan dialogue a bit ago despite it being one heck of an undertaking and I've always wanted to do a similar thing on a much smaller scale(this time) so as an afternoon task I pulled up a video of the four Sherman tapes and typed out his on screen dialogue, it'll be good for writing him and better understanding his vocabulary and maybe some time around I'll do something a little more substantial like Randolph Hodgson's journal but that aside I feel Sherman's dialogue flows really well and does a great job with characterisation, can you believe there's barely more than a thousand words from him all up? Regardless I've tried to follow the in game captions on the video which can be a little hard at times due to white text on a grey background with the occasional white detail obscuring stuff but I believe I got it at least 99% accurate and beyond that I added in places in brackets that he laughed but not the uncaptioned sounds of him getting his ass kicked because I thought one added something and the other wouldn't(and here's the video I used)

youtube

(interrogation - tape 1)

Manny Sherman. Born January one. Nineteen fifty-six.

Come on, you already know all this. What do you want?

What's this?… Huh… You've been doing your research, haven't you Special Agent Munday?

What are my favorite television programs?

Describe my first pet.

What were your friends like as a child?

What is this?!

You taking a survey or you trying to learn something?

Would it kill you to be direct?

You wanted to know what inspired me? As if I wasn't an original?

Well… maybe there was one man I found myself a little fascinated by.

Henry. Howard. Holmes.

Why? Because he was numero uno.

America's first. The guy invented the trade. He set the benchmark, you know?

Learn your history, Munday. Read a book.

You think because I stuck a blade in some people and get off on it I'm not smart?

I, heh… 'allegedly'… killed 13 people before you got smart enough to find me…

(interrogation - tape 2)

…had to build my own little castle, just like Holmes did.

Most people like me do their business where their target lives. That's just asking to get caught.

Holmes had the right idea. It was all about the honeytrap.

You bring me some smokes? Like I asked?

Lucky Reds? Yes! These are like gold in here. Damn that's good. So yeah, the honey pot.

Holmes built a hotel about a mile from the World's Fair and CALLED it the World's Fair Hotel and bought ad space in the papers alongside ads for the expo.

Rubes from far and wide assumed it was the official hotel!

Ma and Pa Kettle take a train in from Nebraska, takes three days, they roll up into that joint ready to rest, get to their room… and whoops- what do ya know… Holmes had a gas pipe hidden under the bed and poisons them.

Or maybe he pulls a trap door on them.

Maybe he separates them and makes one watch through a window while he slits the other's throat.

That's the advantage of a honey pot: no shortage of targets.

That's why I picked all those houses north of the airport.

That whole neighborhood was scheduled for demolition and yet…

All those lovely realtor ladies must not have gotten the memo.

Call up as a contractor, tell them I'm flipping, have them meet me out there… and look at that… we're the only two people for miles.

The first couple times I'd wait for a plane to fly over, just to hide their screams, but…

after a while I realized they could scream as loud as they wanted.

No one was gonna hear a thing.

That's what I remember most.

Those screams.

You can try to understand why I am the way I am. You can forensic science up all the data you want.

But you'll never know… You'll never know, Munday… You'll never really know how it feels when you watch the fire burn out of somebody.

(interrogation - tape 3)

(laughter)

A whole carton this time? You trying to get on my good side or something?

Think I'll save them.

What? No questions? What's going on with you, Munday?

You seem different.

(laughter) I see that that glimmer in your eye, you little devil.

I can keep secrets, man… we all have them.

That prosecutor is trying to get numbers out of me. Know that?

Of course you know that. Numbers. They got Holmes for 27… but we know he was closer to 200, right?

Can you imagine that? I wish I'd had the time to try and beat that.

Sure they know about those nice realtor ladies… they got families after all.

But the numbers the D.A. is asking me about… I think he knows there's some people out there- rejects… misfits… the kind of people that when you see them coming you look the other way.

Does anyone notice if they go missing?

My father always told me to leave my mark on the world.

I never knew what he meant by that- not until I watched that first girl bleed out.

I call it art. That's my signature on society.

It's not murder, it's an aesthetic response to what this has world made me.

Ask people to list killers, and they'll drop five, ten on you before they can't think of any more.

Ask them to name the detectives that caught those killers- no one is going to say a damn thing.

No one knows them. No one cares.

No one makes movies about them.

No one puts their faces on t-shirts.

No one gives a shit.

(quiet chuckle)

I've left my mark on the world…

…have you?

(interrogation - tape 4)

You want to know what it means to be a killer?

You ever been to the art museum downtown?

They got this painting by a guy… forgot his name. Famous painter.

He did portraits of slaughtered cows hanging on hooks.

You take a normal person to a slaughterhouse and they will puke their guts out.

You make it into a painting and suddenly it's art.

There's no difference between the two. Not really.

Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right.

You get it. I know you get it.

You got to do something that matters. Make people feel something they've never felt before.

Shatter the illusion that any of us are really in control.

Think of the most profound thing you've ever done… the most beautiful thing you've ever created… and I promise you… it's nothing compared to watching the life bleed out of someone.

To see the fear in their eyes, to feel them pawing at you for release, to hear them pleading- begging…

That moment when someone realizes they are at their end…

That's when you feel it. That's true art.

That's what you have to be- an artist… a sculptor… an architect.

I see the gleam in your eye, Agent Munday, You're not fooling me.

Oh, look at you now, huh?

Am I going to be your first?

Well come on then- I'm right here.

This room is soundproof- you don't even have to wait for a plane to fly overhead.

There… There you are… I see you now.

Not bad… not bad at all.

Bare hands can feel good, huh?

But the blade makes for such a prettier picture.

You've got potential. Agent Munday…

If you truly want to be an artist.

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @aydeenchan

@tinynightmarewoman @kindheartedgummybears @mybrainrotforreal (Know idea as ever with this character on who'd be interested in this but it was a good exercise at any rate)

#the devil in me #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures the devil in me #Manny Sherman #The beast of Arkansas #ramblings #supermassive games #Supermassi transcribed

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