#i can't wait to see what kind of luxury homes are going to be built there /src

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

Cw/forest fires

[weministertomonsters]

Siren Girlfriend (Isa) x female reader - 1

The first time you see her, she's on the floor, cowering under the threatening shovels and rakes of the farmers and being pelted with rotten produce by their wives.

"Stop!" You shout, unable to fathom why they would treat a person so cruelly.

They have their petty suspicions of you, but never would they go this far. At least, you hope they wouldn't.

"Leave her be," you plant yourself in front of the woman, causing the people to halt. "How can you do this?"

"She bewitched a man!" People in the crowd call out.

"And what proof do you have of that?" You ask, putting your hands on your hips.

The people glance at each other. No one seems sure of who started this claim. No one looks particularly sorry though. You scan the crowd until you see Mrs. Borough yanking angrily at her son's arm, trying to drag him away. The young man seems to be complaining and clutching at his bulging crotch.

"Donny Borough," you call to him in a tone like honeyed poisoned. "Do you have anything to say?"

You've lived here long enough to know that he's trouble and with that in mind, this probably has something to do with him.

"No," Mrs. Borough snaps. "We were just leaving."

She just about runs away, dragging her son by his ear. He stumbles after her, cursing. You turn your attention to the crowd.

"Shame on you all," you say. "Never raise a single finger in violence unless you know the reason that you are doing it for and that the reason is just."

The crowd melts away under the heat of your words until you and the woman are alone.

"I'm sorry this happened," you say, turning to her and extending a hand. "I mean you no harm."

Only then does she lift her head, fixing beautiful green eyes on you.

"I did not mean to entrance him," she says huskily, taking your hand, her dirty, chipped fingernails rasping at your palm. "I was so hungry and he told me sweet things."

"He lies," you say gently. "That particular one is not to be trusted. If you come with me, I can offer you food and shelter for a day, until you can gain your footing."

She plucks self-consciously at her threadbare dress, blushing a little. "I accept your offer. Thank you."

You can't help but look at her and wonder who she is and where she comes from. Her dress is of luxurious tailoring, even if it's now old, dirty, and torn. The necklace she wears is still in good condition, an azure gem lying nestled in the hollow of her neck. Her eyes though, look amused and confused at the same time as she peers around her.

Maybe she's fallen on hard times, or something has happened to cause her to lose her bearings because she doesn't seem to know where she is.

"I'll lead the way," you say. "I have soup at home."

She follows you, stumbling every now and then. You glance at her and notice she's barefooted.

"You don't have shoes?" You ask.

"No," she says cautiously.

Her feet look as tender as that of a newborn baby. All of her skin does. Like she has been living a life of luxury until now. That doesn't make sense either, but you shake it off.

"I have a second pair you can use," you tell her.

"I have done nothing to earn such kindness," she says. "And yet you give it to me."

You chuckle. "I'm not a monster."

Within a few minutes, you have reached your house which is built on a hill, slightly separated from the rest of the village. It's small and a little unkempt, but it's all yours.

You hesitate outside the door and look at her. "Wait here, I'll fill a tub for you."

You have several buckets filled with water in preparation for making medicines, but that can wait. Once the outdoor tub is filled, you gesture to it.

"I'll get you some clean clothes," you say. "I have some things that might fit."

You expect that by the time you return, she'll be in the tub, but she isn't. She's struggling with the buttons on her dress, biting her lip in concentration as her fingers fumble.

"I don't even know how I got it on the first time," she admits, her shoulders slumping. "Can I trouble you to help me?"

Curious questions tumble forward but you bite them back and put the clean clothes on a rock. You step forward and make quick work of the buttons, grimacing at the slick of egg yolks and rotten tomato that soaks the fabric.

"I'm afraid your dress is not salvageable," you say, stepping back.

"It was barely doing its job anyway," she says, shrugging it off her shoulders.

As the dress falls, your eyes widen. She's not wearing anything underneath, but that's not what you're focused on. Her back and arms are covered in thin, recently healed scars.

"Who did this to you?" You ask.

"My people," she says, lowering herself into the tub with a little grimace, her eyes drooping slightly when she discovers the water is pleasantly warm.

You stand there, confused. "What did you do?"

She looks up at you, her green eyes dark. "It is as natural as the tides. I lost the seat of power to my sister and as such, I was chased from the Kingdom."

"You... So you really aren't human?" You say, sinking on your knees beside the tub so you can look each other in the eye. "I had a feeling."

"I could sense you too," she says. "You have a strong aura. Otherwise, I would not have strayed so far into this village."

"You came looking for me." Your cheeks flush slightly.

"I was hoping you could help me," she continues. "I am forbidden to return to the waters my sisters inhabit. Perhaps there is a lake nearby I can occupy?"

You shake your head. "The nearest one is at least a day's travel away. I have water on my land, but it's only a pond. It would be barely enough space for you to turn over."

"With your permission, I would like to stay for a few days. I am very weary," she says.

"Stay as long as you like," you say earnestly, and she gifts you with a smile that shows you sharp teeth.

"So you're a siren?" You say cautiously, and she nods.

"Where are your wings? Wait, you don't have to tell me," you add quickly.

"An accident rendered them useless," she hums as she dips a washcloth and begins to wash her scarred arms carefully. "So I had them ripped off."

You recoil at that, and she laughs.

"Between my sisters, I am known to be the fiercest," she says and holds out the washcloth.

"Can I trouble you to wash my back? I can't reach."

"Sure." You take the washcloth and start on her back, making sure to be extra careful when you pass it over the tender scars.

There are two thick ones at the base of her shoulder blades where her wings must have been. Before you realize what you're doing, your fingers are tracing the scars. They are much older than the rest, and surely no longer painful. Still, she sucks in a sharp breath.

"Sorry," you say.

"They do not hurt," she murmurs, her face pressed against her knees. "But it is difficult to hold my glamour when I am touched."

"Oh. You don't have to. I won't tell a soul," you whisper, hand pausing on her shoulder.

The air between the two of you is electrified. You should be wonderful how it is that you feel so much for a literal stranger, but your heart is beating fast and your mouth is dry and you can barely think straight.

Maybe she's subconsciously entrancing you. That's her nature after all.

She twists around to face you and some water sloshes onto your skirt, but you don't care.

The glamour melts away and you can see what she truly looks like. Her eyes are solid black and her nose is flatter, lips thinner, teeth sharper. Her ears end in delicate little points and her whole body is more streamlined and bonier. Her claws curl into her palm as she brushes her knuckles against your face. Her skin is ashen with green spots that match the color of her glamoured eyes.

"I must seem very strange to you," she says softly.

Even her voice is different. Harsher and at the same time more sultry.

You take a deep breath, glad to find that you're not even a little afraid, even though you probably should be.

"I've seen worse," you say lightly. "Once I was chased by a rather amorous cyclops and by god, it was terrifyingly ugly!"

She laughs and stands, the fine scales on her body shimmering. You hand her a towel and she wraps herself in it and gets out of the tub. She must still be in some sort of half-glamour in order to have legs, you think.

For a moment you just stare at each other. It's easy to fall into her endless black eyes. You shake yourself out of the stupor and clear your throat.

"I have soup," you say and duck inside quickly before she can see that you're blushing again.

[mysticdreamcafe]

Dream 4.3.24

Please leave comments to help interpret this for me. I really don't do well with dream worlds. I've never seen these people, any of them, before. Nor the car, hotel, restaurant, or area. The SUV guy was tall, well built, tanned, with dark hair. The other guy was average height, chubby, with curly black hair, and laughed a lot with the kids.

Sorry for typos but weather is tricky today so migraine is full blown and I'm finding it hard to see the screen. I'll try and edit later.

I dreamt last night that a man was interested in me but instead of acting towards me like you would when you like someone he was passive aggressive. He annoyed me in the dream and still irks me even now typing this.

He'd be nice and considerate then flirt with a blonde in an office. She was nice and very pretty so I could see his interest. What annoyed me was he'd constantly mention that she made more than I did, was prettier than I am, skinnier than I am, smarter,... just like he was. He couldn't go out with someone like me who was so much less than he was. He'd say things like, "You've not accomplished anything.", "You were a waitress. Any dummy can wait tables or serve drinks.".

I'd simply walk away and do my thing. He was good looking but I've dealt with narcissistic men and don't have the energy to try and fix what can't be anymore.

He asked if myself, my friends daughter, and the friend wanted to go for a night in a nice hotel and amazing meal a few hours, I'm from Michigan we use hours to tell distance, away. It was his treat and with a group less I'd have to directly deal with him. I wasn't sure I wanted to go but in usual dream like fashion we were on our way.

It was nice to drive on a sunny day, in his luxury SUV, through rolling countryside. It was relaxing as I was driving and everyone was getting along. We get to the hotel and it was HUGE and very nice. Each of us got our own room. He didn't say that he'd invited the blonde to join us and when it came time to go for the "amazing" dinner I was told I wasn't going in to eat and was just the driver of the group.

So I dropped them off and started walking back to the hotel when I ran into a man in a grassy plot of land. He had bags of apples and a bunch of children around him adding more apples to the piles. He was nice, a teacher, had kind eyes, not gorgeous but not homely, and we chatted a bit.

I didn't stay long and the road Y'd where I'd met the man. There was also a gas station nearby so I went and bought water which I put in my oversized purse before starting my walk again. I took the bottom road to the restaurant, where I left the SUV with keys in it, and decided to take the top route back.

A large farm wasn't to far up the road that had a sign saying Cherries. A couple of guys were wandering around when I walked up, thinking I'd buy some cherries, and they said they were just passing but that the farmer wouldn't mind if a took a few. I saw a lot of cherries and other fruits but no place to put any money so I walked on.

I got to the hotel, ready for bed, sandwich eaten that I'd purchased from somewhere, and only woke the next morning to leave with the others. However, I wasn't driving and my friend was. The vehicle was big so the back was comfortable except the man we went with reclined his seat fully and it was being sandwiched between two hot slices of leather.

When asked if he'd reposition his seat so it was smothering me he said sure and tipped the seat up then back to pressing me into the back seat again.

I'd had enough and asked my friend to stop the car and let me out. I knew we were at least 400 miles from home but I couldn't breathe and wanted out. He forcibly told her no so I stayed this way until she finally gave in to my loud badgering and I jumped out of the vehicle.

I grabbed my purse with the large bottle of water in it, the hotel hadn't been to far from restaurant so I still had it, and started walking. As I went I passed the teacher from the previous day carrying apples and surrounded by kids. I walked to were more apples lay in piles on the ground and helped bag them. He gave me a bag before I left to hike all the way home.

I woke up just after being hounded by the guy with the SUV. He kept having my friend go back so he could taunt me and try to get me back in the car. Finally, I decided to go back and ask the other man for a lift at least part way home... I woke up.

[stonewallsposts]

16 personalities questions: 49-51

49. Your personal work style is closer to spontaneous bursts of energy than organized and consistent efforts 

This one is kind of funny to me. So one of the things that drives me nuts when I'm watching, for example, a hallmark movie, is the way creative work is portrayed. Within Hallmark movies, there seem to be an inordinate number of creative professional. It's typical to see one stuck on an ad campaign, for example, waiting for a creative lightning strike for inspiration. This just isn't the way creative work happens. If I sat around and waited for this kind of thing, I'd never get anything done. I have had them on occasion, but I can't wait for that. What I do is take the things that the client wants, and then start throwing down ideas. The natural creativity kicks in and you come up with ideas from the things you've culled together. But that happens naturally for creative people. I don't know why, it's just the way we're built. So ultimately, even in creative work, it comes down to organized and consistent efforts as opposed to spontaneous bursts of energy. I'm no different. I have to come up with creative stuff for my job. I have a general procedure for getting started on things, and it involves an organized process. 

50. When someone thinks highly of you, you wonder how long it will take them to feel disappointed in you 

Disagree. I usually expect people are going to think well of me. If they don't at first, I figure it's just a matter of time before they do. I generally think all they have to do is get to know me, and then they'll like me. It's a very few who don't.  

51. You would love a job that requires you to work alone most of the time 

Well, there are certainly times when I like to be left alone, but considering I voluntarily came back to the office even at the beginning of the pandemic, just so I could be here with the few others that were here, I think I could say I have a real-world test of this statement. 

I'll grant that part of that equation is as follows. I'm an artist at law firm. Law firms make money by charging clients with billable hours. Part of my job, from 40-60% of my salary, can be billed because I am doing patent drawings. The rest is not. I'm in essence a luxury for the firm. There is some extra benefit in how quickly I can get drawings done too. For example, the previous guy would take around 3 weeks. I'll do them usually in a few hours. Sometimes it may take me a few days, but most of the time it's a couple of hours. This also translates into more freedom for the attorneys. So there are some benefits even beyond the direct billable hours, but still, my billable's don’t pay for my salary. 

I therefore feel like my presence in the office helps explain what I do. I'm here, and when I accomplish things, I'm usually pretty diligent in making it known to my boss. This is basically political, so that I can establish my worth in whatever way possible. If I were just working at home, at some point, he might be thinking: is it really worth it to have him here? 

So while part of my being at the office is my efforts to contribute to job security, the other is because I actually do like it here. I have a nice office with a great view. My wife worked for 33 years at 3M and the only people who got offices were with a view were upper management. I have a killer view and I'm a nobody. I'm also stoked about it because, let's face it, I worked in construction for a bunch of years, so I just think it's cool to be able to dress nice and go to an office. Yeah, I worked as a freelance illustrator for 22 years between the construction job and here, but still, I remember being dirty for work and wishing I wasn't.  

Add the people in too; like I said, we have a really social office, and overall, I'm really happy being here.  

But considering the question, it's probably not so much about my personal work setup, but where do I fit on the loner v socialite spectrum. I still think I'm further to the social side.  

[astromaki]

part 4 of second choice — ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1170 words)

part 1. part 2. part 3. (previous)

tw ; minors dni angst, toxic family, low self-esteem, mention of divorce, mention of alcohol

extra info; all the characters are aged up (they are 30)

10 minutes after the confrontation. your mother called you that night, a few minutes after you left your home.

it was exactly what you didn't need at the time. that endless lecture, one of the thousands she had been giving you since you were little. those words full of venom had lost their importance to you over the years.

all the time the same slanders, the same insults, the same belittling. but it was all your fault, right ?

you were disappointing your family to get your way. how selfish were you?

thanks to your rich parents, you had married a wealthy and influential man in this society. just go to the gala with him, smile at the reporters. be presentable.

and yet that's what you tried to do. for months, for years. you wanted to be perfect for him, for this man. but did he even acknowledge the fact that you were living in the same fucking house ? of course no. so, divorce you from shoto todoroki ? do it, do it and you will be disinherited.

is that what you really want ? to please your family, stay unhappy with this todoroki.

it's the least you can do. you were a spoiled brat, no better than your father said you mother. why didn't you take a cue from your older sister and brother ? they seemed to have made it in life, unlike you.

so don't complain, you had only one purpose in life. just one, it's not too much to ask. to marry a rich young man from high society to raise his children and continue the y/l/n dynasty.

instead you went to law school, studied instead of slutting around with the bourgeois sons of your family friends.

you succeeded, you created your own name, not the name of your maiden or your future husband. you created this image of an influential person. confident, arrogant, the men were at your feet. but then shoto came.

you knew him from afar, a friend of a friend of your father's apparently. the young man was polite at every event, gala. well-bred, intelligent, charismatic, eloquent.

how could you not fall in love with him ?

then you were married to him. and he only needed that haughty look to destroy all those years of work.

he made you feel like a kid by his side, a spoiled, naive and reckless child. that ridicule and shame he made you feel when you had done something you were proud of.

this feeling of inferiority that you had managed to escape from your family, you had found it again with this frightening man. you had become the clown in your own house, the servants must have laughed at your domestic scenes.

he had succeeded in making you forget your wedding anniversary, savoring the pleasures that a man can give you with a simple compliment, or even a small sign of affection. the todoroki had always been a respected, even feared name. because of the father, now because of the son.

so, you were a fool to develop ever stronger feelings for him. ever bigger.

but it wasn't your fault, your parents didn't show you any love, any gesture of affection, you didn't talk that much except for business and inheritance.

their love was cold. reserved, distant. you knew they loved you, and that was enough for you.

you were used to that kind of affection, that was your definition of love.

that's why you were so easily attracted to those who didn't deserve you. those who so easily played on your true love. so easily in love with shoto todoroki and his cold love. that's what you knew well. you felt protected with that, and in danger when they gave you too much. too bad it wasn't reciprocated.

too bad you couldn't see that green jealousy tinting katsuki's cheeks. oh let's talk about katsuki.

that poor idiot who had made this rivalry in his head between him and shoto. he hated him for treating you so badly, neglecting such an extraordinary person as you. what did he see in momo that he didn't see in you ?

this asshole must have had very few neurons to miss the treasure that you were.

but he hated you too. how could you fall in love with him ? when katsuki was standing right in front of you ?

bakugou started from nothing, created this company, built a flourishing empire. and now he's playing with billions of dollars so he can approach you and your family with dignity at the most coveted galas of the moment in all of east asia. fuck, for you, y/n, he even became the enemy of shoto todoroki !

and all you did was complain that shoto didn't compliment your outfit or your new hairstyle. you were brainwashed. he knew that you would always return to shoto like a dog to his master. that all shoto had to do was whistle for you to come back and beg him to let you love him, again and again.

he love you sincerely, it's so pure, so loyal. and itd be the most genuine passion you would ever meet again. but his desire to destroy the todoroki son far exceeded his love for you, y/n.

what a pathetic fate. even in the eyes of your soulmate, between you and revenge, you would be the second choice.

todoroki was standing outside his window with a glass of scotch in his hand. he saw you leaving in the arms of your charming knight, now fleeing him like the plague.

katsuki was waiting for you in his luxury car, ready to take you to your so-called business meeting. seeing you walk away from him, from your home, to throw yourself into the lion's den.

he wasn't jealous, he wasn't happy either. he did not feel lighter or heavier. it's strange, it can't be explained. shoto finally got what he wanted for years. to see you go. and yet.

he turned his head slowly as he saw the car leave the property. his gaze fell on the bed, he foolishly expected to see you in your nightie on the bed, asleep on the edge of the bed. a tired sigh escaped from his lips. the same sentence ran round and round in his head.

you hadn't learned anything from your mistakes. you were always running to rich men who didn't care about you. like him, like bakugou katsuki.

he was almost tempted to look back you. it's true, even though, you had always been a pain in the ass for him.

what did he owe you now ?

"a couple of jerks, what a great pair. tell me you're going to win all her money in the divorce." sighs momo at his side.

shoto had his back to her, now following with his eyes the tiny point of light that was bakugou's car.

"i don't know. but at least we're free of that pain in the ass. she's gone." he says, almost whispering.

the young man put the pen on the desk, close to the sheet of paper that now contained your two signatures.

go check 5000$ if you want more toxic shoto <3

🔖 tag list ; @nveusii @angelofthorr @missmolliemoo @jazzylove @loki-an-idiot @deepestranchgoopdeputy @mhasimp666 @shotorozu @chscklvr @devilsbooksworld @beigeunburdened @marshmallow12345 (those in bold cannot be tagged!)

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—chapter nine ; with heat & wet skin.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta. 

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, implied nsfw, drinking, mentions + drug use

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

MASON was quick on his feet when he was given the slightly odd request Teresa had asked him to do last minute. It had nothing to do with the gallery or with separation of last minute business meetings to be scheduled in the margins of the diary. It was just that he had to safely track down a dangerous man. Luca Changretta was still in England, hot-headed with a plan.

Teresa loved fur shawls. Though she detested how the cheap ones she could afford wore out from time to time, from the "fur" falling out like leaves from a tree in autumn, or even its colour turning from new to depressed (and even she grew so envious over the women who wore the luxurious, expensive ones at parties). Tommy Shelby never bothered with buying her what she wanted, which she was fine with, but one man with the Italian genes spoiled her with one that she kept in her closet. A grey-ish white. Teresa often takes one look at it, before sliding it over to reach the silky see-through shawl when she is simply relaxing in her home. At parties she debated even thinking of taking it out, but then there was the other shawl that was made of black fur, and it closed together with a silver clip to keep her shoulders warm.

The fur shawl was just like the painting she avoids at her own work. Both were so beautiful and timeless, both sharing personal meaning. But tonight, it finally saw light from staying in the wardrobe closet for too long. Teresa held it out in front of her, then clutched it in her arms.

The bar was built together with grey walls, none sound-proof. On the other side you could hear the jazz band playing music for the party, or footsteps from the owner or a bartender heading out back for more stocking of gin. If you were on that side, you'd hear the giant doors spring open from the doorman that allowed Teresa to enter inside. The man at the counter watched as her dress fell all the way down to her heels, not too long so she wouldn't trip. Her hair was in its curls once more, and wrapped around like comfort was the fur.

She reached a booth and set her purse on the table. "White wine."

"Ma'am-" the server goes.

"A man will be joining me very soon." Teresa made a smile, as the unescorted woman if Luca were to not show up. Had she imagined if Luca burned the invitation letter she mailed to his hotel, or simply tossed it away, in future to be used as scratch paper, or even as a roll up (if Luca is one of the many people that did snow), she may have just wasted her time getting dolled up just to not be served at her booth.

"Last time I met up with a woman at a bar, she proposed a deal, and lied straight to my face."

She shot her head up.

Those eyes.

Looks like her night wasn't going to waste after all. "Are you talking about Polly?" She watches as Luca Changretta helps himself on the other side of the booth, the same server coming over to Teresa with her white wine.

Teresa waited while staring down at Luca's own glass being poured with four fingers of whiskey. Luca glanced at Teresa's outfit, not answering her question. "You're wearing the shawl I got you? I can't believe you still have it."

"What, like I got rid of it? Why would I give it to someone else who would treat it like a rag?"

"Hm." Luca took a sip. "So, why did you summon me here? Actually, I know the answer to that one. You're a businesswoman, as we both know. You invited me here to propose some kind of deal, eh? Like I got the time to spare one more fucking thing before I go do what I came to England to do?"

"I know about the vendetta, Luca." Teresa began. "And I know the deal you made with Polly, which was a lie, by the way. I know about that. What I also know is that you don't just plan on crushing the Peaky Blinders. You have more on your mind. You're so greedy that you would want to overthrow Alfie Solomons as well. If he were to betray Tommy with the deal you made with Mr. Solomons, you know you and your men would come after him as well and take over his business."

Luca nodded. "I had a feeling you knew. I had a feeling Tommy Shelby brought you back to Birmingham, no?"

"I know your patience is wearing thin, and you're done giving people more time. But then there's me."

"Right, forgive me," Luca places a hand on his chest. "Why not talk about the royalty in front of me as well? What could she possibly request for this time?"

"I wanna know why I was never sent a Black Hand."

Luca laughs, trailing his fingers around the rim of his glass. Whatever Teresa said or did, she definitely wasn't laughing. Nothing seemed funny to her on her end. She did, however, miss that laugh of his. It was more of a chuckle, but she loved it like it was honey in hot tea. "Let me tell you something. It's best to stay out of this, right? Since you resigned, messing with us is like throwing stones at the devil."

"I'll play in the snow with the devil to prove you wrong."

Luca scoffs harshly. "So you're one of those people that snorts white lines just to feel good?"

"That was just my own figure of speech, Luca. I don't do Tokyo," Teresa replied. She cringed at the habit Arthur and Michael carelessly picked up on. "It's everyone's thing now, but not mine."

"That makes two of us." He took another sip. "I'm doing you a favour here, Miss Griffith. Stay out of this and do your own thing."

"There's no need for you to call me that," she comments.

"Why the hell not? Formalities are a thing of the past now?"

"You're talking to me as if we just met. We had something together."

"Yeah, had."

Teresa gave a glare, grabbing her wine. Luca smirks. "All right. Whatever you say. Jesus, kid. You're so fuckin' difficult."

"Kid," she scoffs at his remark. "And Ada Thorne is on your list and she doesn't get her hands covered in blood. So why wasn't I included?"

"You feel left out?" Luca snickered.

"I just wanna know why. I know damn well you haven't forgotten about me. Even if what we had to you was just for pleasure, you found out that I was once a Peaky Blinder."

Luca stares. "You wanted out because you felt like it would devour you forever, so I respected your wishes. You told me why you threw in the towel. And I know you're not a Shelby, you don't wanna be a Shelby."

The server comes up to them. "Sir? Ma'am? Would any of you like to hear the specials tonight?"

"No, thank you." Teresa smiles.

"More whiskey," Luca says. "And for the lady, she'll have more wine." Teresa raised her brows. She didn't mind more wine, would she care so much about knowing her limit before it was time to wince at the tab?

"I forgot you love whiskey," Teresa points out.

"Italian whiskey," Luca made a hand gesture. "As I was saying... have you thought long and hard about this, as to why I'm here? As to why I want Tommy Shelby dead, how I now want everyone dead?"

"Your father." There was a pause between the two. The jazz band transitioned their music to a much slower song this time, and it started easing the nerves in both the former couple's systems despite the volume of alcohol consumed. "Arthur Shelby killed your father. John Shelby killed your brother Angel."

"If things didn't happen the way it did, my men and I would be cozying up in New York counting stacks by stacks."

"And I wouldn't be seeing you here," Teresa added. "Almost ever again," Teresa thanks the server for the excess wine refilling in her glass, then Luca's. "Now can we talk about the giant elephant in the room?"

Luca furrows his brows.

"I know why you left, Luca. I know it's been five years, but you really just packed up and left. I've never seen you so frantic until that day when you were running to the train." Not even an eye bat. "I grew miserable ever since."

"Can I say this?" Luca leaned forward, placing the cuffs of his tailored suit that it laid flat on the tablecloth. "Whatever emotion you saw in my eyes on that day, whatever it was, it was for the sake of being alive for my family. Someone's gotta help keep the business up and runnin'. None of it works if I'm not there."

Teresa stares at Luca. This man wasn't wrong. It wasn't like he was running everything in his family all on his own. His father led the family in Birmingham that Angel was a part of, even his mother lived with them, but what makes New York so important and comforting to Luca must have felt like a whole outlet of anything he ever accomplishes, how many Tommy guns he can hold and keep in his home like picture frames, how many men he has to hire from Sicily and America just to help kill one family. All of that was justified when he boarded that train to the Liverpool docks.

"Oh," Teresa straightened her back. "So much for being the big, bad capo."

"Be careful," Luca warned, pointing a finger at her. "Don't question a gangster's honour."

"You know I crack jokes here and there," Teresa's lips curled into a smirk as it reached the rim of her glass.

"So do I," said Luca.

She looked down at his hands that rested on the table. His experienced, non-scrawny hands that had a black hand tattooed on his wrist, one with a crown, and maybe some other new ones Luca got over time. She used to kiss all of them, even the one on his neck that was a cross. His right hand was wrapped with big, gold rings on two fingers, except he only kept his ring finger free of anything, that was something she wanted to bring up. "You got all those rings on your fingers but not a wedding ring.

"Not like you got one on yours, either. Unless you took it off before coming here," Luca jokes.

She shakes her head. "I've been too busy to fall in love with another soul. But you? You didn't tie the knot with Viviana back in New York?"

Luca scowled, knowing Teresa hadn't forgotten about that woman as he did. "No. I still see her occasionally."

"Yet you haven't done anything with her? Never bothered to find anyone to satisfy your mother?"

"My mother says any woman from New York or even from the old country would do."

"What did you say, after?"

"Mamma, you're killin' me.'" Teresa had to chuckle at that, Luca smiled at her. He then looked around the bar, seeing how more of the guests had gotten up to dance with their dates as the jazz music cranked up their higher tunes like a machine. "Don't tell me we're gonna be sitting here all fuckin' night. You wanna dance, Miss Tour Guide?"

The nickname he gave to her the first time. Did he really sit in front of her and tell her he couldn't remember everything they had, then? "I'm a little rusty," Teresa declines.

'We gotta stretch our legs somehow. I ain't even see your whole getup for the night."

Teresa had no problem getting up from the booth. She stepped out so that her heels were shown as well, and she placed the fur shawl down on her seat so her shoulders were out. The dress wasn't purchased by Luca, but by her, and she felt like a Grand Princess, like a little girl playing with their mother's dresses and makeup. She was never too insecure about her looks since it never bothered her, but she felt beautiful, and she wondered if Luca will still ever see her as beautiful whether or not she is clothed in front of him.

Luca kept on staring. "Then perhaps we can head somewhere else," he suggests. "Somewhere we're both quite familiar with."

How and why didn't matter, the young man who looked to be around Arthur Shelby's age paid no second thought to his surroundings as he aggressively snuffed the thick lines of cocaine that formed on the ledge up his nostril. He begins wiping away any excess off his face, exiting the balcony seats just as the Italian mobster escorts Teresa inside the dark theatre to their respected spots.

"You're a lover of theatre," Teresa spoke quietly as the show resumed to its first act.

"If you dress like one, you are one." Luca hooked his leg over the other, folding his hands on his lap.

It was silent, not the awkward or tense silence, but silent to respect and see the performance. Silence or absolute noise, the stage was the latter. The good kind of noise. The skimpy dancers twirled with batons, the man and woman playing the perky main lovers belted the note they must have spent days and nights rehearsing over and over.

Luca knew there would be performances every night back in New York City. There was always something to do and somewhere to go, otherwise you'd be glued to your chairs at home.

The show was about to end, and Luca, for the first time in God's glorious mysterious time, took Teresa by the hand and curled them together on his lap, his eyes were fixated to theatricality in front of the hundreds of people.

Teresa reacts, slowly looking down. It was nearly dark, but she could feel the giant, lumpy rings from his fingers bump into hers. He always held her hand during a show, and would only let go to join the applause when a number came to its big finish, or when the grand finale brought hypnotic joy and bliss in each audience member's senses like himself that he just had to give the standing ovation.

But just as the audience erupted in deafening applause, cheers and whistles, Luca and Teresa remained the only two members seated, their hands still holding.

HIS hotel room was neat and tidy before he left, now the sheets on the giant bed wrinkled like aged skin when Luca held Teresa down to remove her stockings. She missed his touch. The feeling of being pinned on a bed as he dominated over her, practically tearing what she wore for the occasion just to see her underneath as a sight for his sore eyes, it was definitely there, and her heart pounded.

"Luca," she breathed out a moan. He kissed her softly, now only responding with pacing movements, from positioning her to grabbing the protection from the nightstand drawers. Though he was careful with the dress and fur shawl that was set on the office desk he sat in earlier, within seconds her brassiere was tossed on the floor. With the help from Teresa, she managed to undress Luca from head to toe by just sitting up, and he was now unclothed from the fresh tailored suit his uncle made back in Mott Street.

They kissed again, and Luca went in.

+ me writing "smut": 🧿👄🧿 but ooooo shiiiit their “business” meeting was quite a night lol.

[neoculturetechxgot7]

Gardenia on the Crown - J.J.H.

3; White sheets and frustration

pairing: Jung Jaehyun × Reader

genre: angst

length: lil less than 1k words?

warnings: mild language

``

The moment your hand comes in contact with the bronze coldness of the handle it's impossible to stop your chest from overfilling with waves of relief. You're only seconds away from walking into your newly acquired room, your personal maid awaiting on the other side of the door and fresh, perfumed sheets silently pleading to rest you.

Jaehyun is hot on your tail and although his suffocating grasp fell after reaching the top of the staircase, you can still prominently sense his presence behind your back, each one of his footsteps bouncing loudly against mosaic decorated walls and shiny marble. The burning feeling of his fingers curving around your wrist has now turned into a dull numbness, spreading out like some kind of venom over your skin with a unique lingering warmth.

Without sparing him a single glance, you push the heavy, wooden door open and enter your chamber, gaze instantly landing on the white bedding you've been longing to see all day. A light scent of flora and dust seeps into your lungs as you take a hesitant step inside, observing the room you'd be calling yours until the damned marriage for the first time.

Having arrived too early in the morning to meet both the prince and his father, you haven't had the chance visit it, only sent your maid to settle the luggage and assure everything is in order, even clean if needed. Judging from the looks of it, the royals were very generous with the choice of your temporary place...

Engraved walls, adorned by thin, intricate streaks of gold that shimmer so stunningly under noon sunlight, luxurious furniture on every corner and a bed almost bigger than the one back home, to house all your peachy dreams and grey nightmares. Upon walking further inside with slight precaution, you spot a gigantic bookcase taking up the entire expanse of the west wall, a colourful variety of book spines placed neatly in order on the shelves.

Thank God, they have books in this hellhole.

At least you will be more than comfortable while hiding from Jaehyun in here now.

The very next moment, a girl dressed in crimson red appears in front of you, bowing with her humble eyes falling to the ground in respect. The sight of her, one of the most trustworthy people in your life and probably your closest friend, instantly draws the curve of a smile on your face. Suddenly, it's almost as if that hideous morning fades into wrinkled scraps of memories, as if everything is going to be okay because her mere existence feels like home and that calms you in more ways than imaginable.

She greets you with the kindest voice, a small bow following.

"Can you please bring me my sleeping gown?" You order with a newfound liveliness dripping from your tone, fingertips reaching up to untie the front of your tight dress; sleep, sweet sleep how it's seducing your eyelids so greedily...

But the girl remains still, her gaze only rapidly moving from the floor to your face and on then something far behind you.

Then, it hits.

Swiftly and more aggressively than needed, you spin around on your thin heels just to find his overly too annoying figure leaning against the door frame, eyeing you with bare impatience.

"Why are you still here..." you ask, not able to conceal the obvious irritation oozing from each word.. "...your Highness?"

Jaheyun promptly nods at your maid and proceeds to casualy walk further inside your room -without permission-. "Could you leave us alone for a second, servant?"

Your blood immediately starts to boil upon hearing him. Who does he think he is to invade your private space so carelessly and give orders your maid in such a rude manner? Prince or not you aren't having it.

Watching her bow again and scurry to the door, you want nothing more than to pull the poor girl back and proudly show indiscipline to your future husband, but for the sake of honour, you manage to contain yourself to a dramatic cough to gather both their attention.

"Excuse me, but she is no servant. She's my maid and you have no right to boss her around!" You are nearly yelling, arms crossed over your chest, as the built up frustration has the chance of a small release for the first time today.

He moves aside for the girl to leave and keeps a quiet stance while slowly swinging the door closed.

"First of all, I do have the right." His voice revibrates into the room louder than you expected, before he turns to focus a pair of icy, freezing eyes, with all the intimidation and arrogance they carry, on you. "And second..."

His long strides quickly lead him just in front of where you're standing in the middle of the room, hands folded behind his back.

"What the hell were are you doing?"

You're utterly taken aback by his sudden reaction, not fully understanding what he means. Even so, you stand your ground, taking a step forward and wearing the most stern face you can master, hands subconsciously running over the ruffles of your dress.

"What am I doing?"

"Why did you fake a headache?"

And your limbs fall still, lips slightly parting at a loss for words, your glance descending from his face to the thin white shirt cladding his chest. This is a second blow you didn't expect, although it was quite obvious the pretentious pain and dizziness back there wasn't all that believable.

Does he have confront you for it though, as if he hasn't realised you're practically running away from his oh so noble existence the whole day?

"How did you know I was faking it?"

"Well, you just confirmed it." Damn him "But also, you're a terrible liar."

"The hell I'm not!" Your voice is growing steadily louder and if he steals any more time from your life to kindly piss you off with stupid, pointless accusations, the whole palace will hear your rage.

"Well, for a princess, your acting was awful, sorry to break it to you." His eyebrow arches mockingly, a grin pulling across his lips to reveal the breathtaking grace of pearly teeth and for a second you think how this is the first time he's ever shown you his smile; as much as you hate to admit it, the entire room just got a little brighter and your head feels a little lighter, a little drowsy...

And it miraculously only appears while he is making fun you. How fitting.

"I grew up in royalty. Do you know how good of an actress one must be to pretend they're not bored out of their mind when dancing with princes who's name they don't even remember?" At this point, you're close enough to kick him straight where he deserves for being such a jerk and the air buzzes heavily with the electricity of every tense emotion radiating off of you.

Jaehyun only drops his gaze to the leather shoes he sports, a chuckle escaping him in the process and if you didn't hate his guts so much, it would've made your heart skip a beat or two at how gentle and beautiful the sound is. "Is that so?"

The prince comes to stand just a breath away from you, minimizing the distance with his eyes rising to render you helpless under their dark pits where a lone spark of mischief shines. "Did you feel the same way on our first dance?"

Did he seriously bring that up?

The smugness on his smirk solely grows, he's teasing...

At the reference of the very first night he laid eyes on you, the most obvious shade of red tints your cheeks as you stand frozen, mouth slightly agape in search of an appropriate answer. He managed to leave you speechless, a river of memories from that ball flowing into your mind ceaselessly and after a moment of silence, it strikes you how you are embarrassed yet again in his presence. No man has ever made you blush three times in a day.

Damn. Him.

"Either way, you might need to learn to lie a little better if you want to stand by my side like a true queen one day."

The words slice through your chest harder than a sword as Jaehyun carelessly backs up towards the door, after just having insulted your dignity and simultaneously rubbed this stupid arranged marriage at your face.

It doesn't surprise you anymore how you long so intensely to grab the closest heavy object and throw it straight at him to wipe that sinister smirk off of his face once and for all. He has surpassed the level of patience you're willing to have with him.

How dare he?

"I don't want to stand by your side like anything!" You shout, startling him as the suppressed anger finally bursts and he halts in place, still like a boulder.

He didn't see it coming.

The faintest trace of shock is written across his face in narrow eyes and a parted mouth, the one emotion he doesn't manage to mask all that well.

You're waiting for him to yell back, scold you and degrade you even more for mouthing such a thing, openly showing your disagreement towards marrying him. You're waiting for bad consequences to come, seeing his lips slightly quiver when he tilts his head.

If he meant to say something, you will never know, as Jaehyun spares you one last glance that hides a mixture of anger, disappointment and something else you can't quite define before reaching for the handle. He leaves you in a deafening silence, interrupting it only by banging the door closed with force and you're alone, at last.

Only that now sleep won't seek out for your eyelids so easily, his words tormenting your mind like restless spirits, a bitter echo to remind you how cold the prince truly is, after all.

//

previous || next

[messyheady]

Day 6: On the other side of Charles Bridge - Prague.

People said that if you have not been to Charles Bridge, you have not been to Prague. I decided to spend my entire day to cross the Charles Bridge and see what Prague has to offer on the other side of the Vltava river.

A view from Charles Bridge.

I started the day with a brunch at Lourve cafe. It is a long-established cafe sitting in a old giant building, giving the feeling of luxury and nostalgia, but the price is not luxurious at all. I had a Goulash soup with chopped onion, as I heard it is one of the recommended dish here. In the first impression, the smell of the soup is really good. However, to my surprise, the soup was too salty and the beef was not tender enough. I asked for bread, and they brought me a basket of 3 kinds of bread. One is white bread with salt on top, one is brown bread and another one is with herb. 

Goulash at Lourve cafe, a bit salty, only soup and meat, no veggies. But the smell is delicious.

The atmostphere at Lourve cafe. I would definitely recommend to come here and enjoy a nice drink and some cakes.

Prague never disappoints me with its sights. I slowly passed the Charles bridge and enjoyed the ancient sculptures as well as the view of Prague castle from the bridge. It was beautiful, and could be more beautiful if there were fewer people on the bridge. Since this is the most famous attraction, tons of people gathered here. 

On Charles Bridge.

The weather was warm and sunny so I craved an ice cream. I wanted to try a gelato ice-cream to compare with the one I had had in Vienna. There are plenty of ice cream shops in the old town, I simply picked one out of convenience. It happened to be a shop named Angelato. I wanted to try something non-ordinary so I picked the flavour poppy seed. Poppy seed indeed has the highest production in Czechia. It was a wrong choice for an ice cream. 😂 I tasted nothing but a lot of seed powder mixed with ice and milk. The poppy seed has a particular kind of smell, but it is not strong. I recalled my delicious ice-cream with pumpkin seed oil flavour in Vienna (which is even cheaper) and regretted that I did not have more. I should have had 10 cones when I was in Vienna. It was so good.

Over the bridge, I headed to an interesting destination - the narrowest street of Prague. The street has a space enough for only one person walking by, hence, a traffic light is built to indicate when to go and when to wait. It's funny how people think of this trick and how it becomes a visitor attraction. The difference between something ordinary and something special lies in those little details. One would be surprised how subtle it could be.

The narrowest street of Prague - with the traffic light.

Next, I turned to the Nerudova street, the street characterized by many pastel colored buildings, leading to another excellent view of the Prague city. It is not difficult to find. One only needs to go straight from the Charles bridge and finally reaches this pastel-colored street. On the street, there is a small Ginger bread museum, which I can't resist to step in because of the sweetness and the cuteness of those little cookies.

The sweet pastel-coloured houses along the Nerudova street.

Sweet little cookies from the Ginger bread museum.

The Nerudova street leads to a small "hill" where tourists can admire the whole city from the top. I would say this place gives the most excellent view through-out the whole trip. Next to that would be the Wrestling Titans sculptures standing right in front of the gate to the Prague Castle. I found the two giant sculptures very interesting because it reminds me of the Greek myth stories I read long time ago.

The view from the hill at Nerudova street.

The Wrestling Titans

When it's dinner time, I decided to go for Vietnamese food because I heard that it is cheap and easy to find here (for there is a large population of Vietnamese in Prague). I randomly bumped into a Vietnamese restaurant and ordered a Phở Bò (beef noodle). It was a bad decision. The soup is so plain that I couldn't taste the strong and special flavour of Vietnamese beef noodle there. There weren't sufficient ingredients in the soup bowl, no bean-sprouts, no variety of meat. My expectation was a bit too high. However, the soup is generally comfortable for almost everyone because of its lightness and simplicity. It was pretty cheap too (5 euros), half the price of a bowl of Pho in France (10 euros) and Netherlands (12 euros). Whatever, a bowl of Pho always gives me a warm and pleasant feeling.

Vietnamese beef noodle (Pho).

One more day in Prague and I will be back home. After 6 days of doing nothing but wandering freely, seeing wonderful things and eating good food (and spending money), i started to feel a bit guilty already. This whole trip is a kind of guilty pleasure.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I can't wait for Dean to enter the amnesia phase! Dean and Cas formed a strangely intense relationship from the beginning and I wonder how Sam's gonna describe Cas.

Aaaah it’s now almost certain that that line from the last Shaving People Punting Things promo was from 12x11 - the “my name is Dean Winchester, blah blah Sam and Mary, a-and Cas- Castiel is my *wibble* best friend” line that nearly killed us all even completely out of context. Since there was 2 episodes between us and it I was trying not to get too excited I was trying not to pin my hopes on it being exactly what it sounded, but without rewatching the promo I think 12x11 may be the only episode left in it that we’ve yet to see stuff from. It’s also always kinda been the logical episode to have Dean reminding himself of who his nearest and dearest are but there you go, this is my 3rd year of watching with fandom, I’ve learned not to trust promos as far as I can throw them :P

There’s this post from last night squeeing about the line here:

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/156999800760/nerdylittleshit-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh-i-just

And now I’m just enjoying the detail that Sam will almost certainly be responsible both times for using the word “friend” to describe Benjamin & his vessel and Cas and Dean… Like, in 12x10 there was one of those weighty pauses where everyone immediately thinks “…oh. They were in love” and then someone goes and uses “friend” - we’re not exactly unfamiliar with that sort of pause when it comes to Dean n Cas stuff, either… 

I do think Sam’s maybe a bit more certain about misdiagnosing Dean and Cas as BFFs because he’s had way more time to think about it than trying to work out the correct word for - well, *I’m* not sure about the correct relationship description for an angel and its vessel and I’ve been thinking about it all week :P - so it will seem more natural to him to call Cas that. So I won’t be too bummed if Sam is really chill about the concept, because as much as we talk about shipper!Sam, and he’s used as the punchline of a LOT of jokes about Dean n Cas’s behaviour throughout the years to sell it that they’re old-married-couple arguing, that is kind of a trick for the viewers at home to be in on, not necessarily a comment that Sam ACTUALLY thinks that. I mean, he probably still thinks Dean is STRAIGHT can you IMAGINE. 

I don’t think this episode is gonna expose Bi!Dean but like with 10x12, going back with Dean into his past was used as the most overt exploration of Dean vs repression and how the whole performing!Dean thing worked, and gave us the cipher of the cake which got way more mileage than we expected, because season 10 actually was fairly good at breaking Dean down for us, though I think the way season 11 and 12 have been putting him back together is far more enjoyable watching… Anyway, this is a great second chance to take a crack at what 10x12 started, and to make Dean well and truly vulnerable. They were comparing the episode to Yellow Fever, of which I have written a whole bunch as part of my wide-ranging “Still not over the Siren Episode” series of metas: 

http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/151056070938/shower-thoughts-harping-on-season-4-because-being

The main point I guess being the one about how it intentionally turned Dean inside out in front of Sam to make him look extremely vulnerable. In front of season 4 Sam, whose entire arc was built around feeling strong - and specifically stronger than Dean - and falling down the rabbit hole based on those feelings - those 2 episodes are really bad for Sam’s perception of Dean in that immediate moment because they’re stepping stones to make Sam think Dean’s not just lost his edge but is completely incapable of stopping the apocalypse and Sam is the only one strong enough to do it. Aka, Sam is in the worst place in the world to benefit with positive lessons from watching Dean get turned inside out in front of him. In 10x12, again Sam is all caught up in saving Dean, even so far as wondering if abruptly having to deal with having an extremely mouthy little brother until he grows back up into an extremely mouthy adult at the normal speed these things happen, was actually preferable to Dean with the Mark. Again, he’s on a descent arc that again plays off him being, well, the responsible adult, because that episode wasn’t a metaphor for the wider picture or anything :P - the burden of saving Dean from the Mark is a distraction and a weight on him and the whole Taylor Swift moment at the end shows how he’s not learned anything about Dean from the experience, and in the wider picture, carries on down his path and trying to save Dean his way (when Dean seems to have given up shortly after), so Sam is basically left to make the decision about how to save Dean on his own (and his isolated thinking is highlighted by deliberately leaving Cas out of the decision making process even though they’d seemed to be on the same page for a while). 

Anyway! In season 12 guess what we have another Winchester off making the bad decisions! Sam and Dean are freeeeeee (and, uh, should probably be concerned about what their mom is doing but that’s a problem for another episode :P) - since the middle of season 11 Sam hasn’t had the sort of burden on him that he’s carried on and off for most of the show (seriously, like, the last quarter of season 7 is the only other time I can think of Sam didn’t have a Thing outside of just being along for the ride with the main plot) - Sam can be concerned about Dean, but since the start of season 12 he ALSO doesn’t have anything wrong with him, internally or externally, and so they’re kind of in a healing and growth stage (this has been also achieved by letting Cas have all the awful happen to him >.>) Anyway, all that means that now we get one of those episodes that emotionally eviscerates Dean, in front of Sam, and Sam doesn’t have any roadblock to understanding and learning about Dean except for all the emotional walls Dean’s put up to keep him out that will baffle Sam with their absence (the sneak peek scene shows Sam missing a ton of really huge neon flags that we can see from miles off because we know Dean from this outside perspective Sam has not got the luxury of) or reasons Sam will be too distracted or take developments completely the wrong way to actually genuinely understand what Dean is going through and what these things mean… 

He’s going from a standing start though, so I expect he’s going to catch maybe like 1/10th or less of all the things we might be able to explain about Dean, but even so :P 

… Anyway all’s that to say is that Sam is going to probably write down a list of everyone Dean absolutely has to remember: Himself - brother, Mary - mom, Castiel - best friend, and leave Dean with it. And then we get DEAN’S delivery on that line which we have very hopefully already heard for ourselves (or we have wasted a lot of ink on this :P) and Deana stumbles over the concept of “Castiel - best friend” with all that stammering and wobbling voice that we’ve heard. And there’s going to be the difference in how Sam describes Cas and how Dean thinks of him, or is confused about how he’s supposed to apparently think of him :’D